A new tradition has been started between the Keigley Men and the Stanton Men.
It has been dubbed Mantrip (and then we cleverly add the year).
Tyler and I decided that we should ease our way into such a manly trip with our sons.
We briefly considered living off the fat of the land for a week, but decided to rough it at Great Wolf Lodge in Concord, NC.
It was amazing.
After returning safely to our homes, I created a list of a few things you should consider before embarking on your first Mantrip:

1. Need to Have a Son or Two
I have 2 and Tyler has 2.
It is perfectly fine to not take your boys, but if you have them, they should be included in the beard-strengthening event.

2. Have a Destination Planned
Be sure to have a good place to go.
Make a plan ahead of time, and be sure to go the wrong way for at least 30 miles at some point.

3. Bring a Plastic Barrel of Cheese Balls
Not necessary, but draws lots of attention from people at Wal-Mart while the Cheese Balls are being purchased.
This could create an opportunity for you to talk about the Mantrip and test your knowledge of the event.

4. Have an Obscene Amount of Fun/Adventure
For us, it was watching our boys dive into uncharted waters. Literally.
We were able to see them face a fear, laugh at it and then want to do it again and again.

5. Tell the Tale
Upon returning, be sure to have your stories straight so that some of your embellished accounts check out at both camps.
Be sure to use fresh wounds or scabs for visuals as you recall the events of the trip.

If you have taken your little dudes on a Mantrip, what other details should we know?

This is a photo of me at London High School where I played soccer and baseball.
I can remember when this photo was taken, and how I was trying to look cool.

[This is a letter to my 18 year old self]

Dear Kevin,

Hey jerk, sorry to distract you from yourself, but I have a few things to suggest:

1. No one cares about the cut of your thigh muscles.
2. You are not a tortured genius (a phrase you picked up in a book about The Doors front man, Jim Morrison).
3. No one cares that you know all about the history of The Doors.
4. Why don’t you try reading that copy of Beyond Good and Evil by Nietzsche that you carry around on top of your school books.
5. I know you think that you are Admiral Youth Group, but really you are lame and pretty shallow.
6. Hug your mom a lot.  Tell her you love her.
7. Ask your dad a lot more questions — you are about to go to college.
8. A backbone isn’t just to help you stand straight — you should definitely get one.
9. When you drive through town with your shirt off coming home from your lifeguard job whilst wearing your Oakleys and blaring Queen from your Pioneer tape deck, no one is wanting to be you.
10. You should know that if I could go back in time, I would beat the crap out of you.

Sincerely,
You

While I know that you have been asked this question before (by me and on this blog even), I am sure there are still things you would like to tell yourself when you were 18 years of age.
Let it fly.

On a recent business trip to Myrtle Beach, I found my bed for the week to be on a sleeper sofa.
While I was grateful to not be sleeping on a bed made of broken glass, I came away with some pros and cons of the
sleeper sofa guest experience.

PROS
1. You have a bed and someone loved you enough to not make you sleep outside.
2. …that’s about it

CONS
1. We all know about the paper thin mattress, so there is no need to beat a dead horse (though oft times I would rather sleep on a bloated equine than a sleeper unit).
2. There is also no need to mention the bar that would slice you in half were it not for the paper thin mattress being a buffer.
3. The shame of feeling like a disheveled slob as you awaken to find your hosts up early making you breakfast.
4. Discovering that your hosts last used the hideaway bed for their hair, crumb, candy and popcorn kernel party.
5. Having to reorder the entire living room before the day can proceed because your possessions are smattered everywhere, along with the cushions and relocated coffee table.

Most of you that read this blog will know that there was a F0 tornado that swept through camp where I work.  Not only did that tornado bring some minor devastation to our camp, but it also brought a whirlwind of media attention.  Having a little television experience, I ended up being the point man.  I snapped some photos of the downed trees and sent them in to our local network affiliate.
The station liked them.
A lot.
Maybe too much.
After my photos hit the 11 o’clock news, my phone rang.  It was the station asking if I would mind doing a live remote at 5AM the next morning.  I accepted, and my path to local stardom began.
I arrived at the location of the remote broadcast at 4:45AM having donned my finest man-wear — Carhart pants, Columbia jacket and a sweet cap featuring my camp’s initials on the front.
The camera rolled and so did all the dollar bills.  I started getting $5,000 a gig.  The local media couldn’t get enough of my description of the tornado — how it “sounded like a freight train” or how the “trees were topped as if Paul Bunyan himself laid waste to the camp with his axe.”
As the sun rose, my fame was skyrocketing.  At least 2 or 3 channels had my face on the top story intro.  People were sticking products in my hand so that I could endorse them in my interviews.  A pro football player by the name of Walter Payton asked me if I would wear his new brand of K-Swiss shoes.  I told him that I didn’t think those cameras would be focusing on my feet, but for an extra $200, I would wear them.
By 5′oclock, I had purchased a limo made of diamonds, I had nearly OD’d on Pixie Stix candy (I was buying by the box) and I demanded that everyone call me Mr. Media Magicface Donaldsonton.
But my fame was short-lived.  For not long after 5:05PM, I noticed that my cell phone made of bronze stopped ringing.  I also noticed that though I demanded to be called Mr. Media Magicface Donaldsonton, my name appeared as Dan Hill on one broadcast (coincidentally, that same station burned to the ground that night).  Not only was I being ignored and being misrepresented, but my long time manager of 3 hours quit and started working for some guy that saw an image of Jesus on his toast.
I was on my way out and I knew it.

The nail in the coffin was when I was confused with Tyler Stanton in an image I had provided.   I couldn’t stand it anymore.  I had to get out.  I had to leave.  I had to get away from it all.
I went home.
Across the street.
And that is where I am this very day, writing to you about the rise and fall of a media darling.
That’s me, the media darling.
I am available for birthdays, Bar Mitzvahs and car shows.