I spent the majority of my childhood summers at a two-week sleepaway camp on the shores of Lake Michigan. So when I found out there was an adult version of summer camp just two hours from NYC, I packed my bags, grabbed my friends and hit the road to Club Getaway in Kent, CT.
While prepping for the trip, I was a little nervous it might be one giant bender-orgy combo—my weekend in particular included an open bar and was hosted by a Manhattan club promoter. But in reality, my action-packed weekend left me tired, sunburnt and all smiles. The trip starts the minute the bus leaves the traffic-jammed West Side Highway with a full bar and the chatter of fellow campers. The ride flies by with the help of a couple glasses of red wine, and before you know it you're at camp!
Now let's recap the four main things I learned during a weekend at Club Getaway:
You actually don’t mind waking up early.
On a typical weekend, you'd be hard-pressed to get my ass out of bed before 10am. But this weekend, I was up before my friends, pushing them out the door so we could get in as much as possible. Between zip-lining, a giant swing, Geronimo (a 30-foot free-fall from a tree), kayaking, bike rides and so much more, I didn’t want to miss a thing.
Communing with nature is a thing.
Manhattan is a concrete jungle, so you better believe that you will want to roll down the grassy hills (points if you can do it with a drink in hand) or just be in awe of the mountain backdrop while you sit on the dock with your toes in the water.
You will dance the night away at the boathouse.
Every weekend at camp has its own particular theme with corresponding activities. My weekend was a flashback to the ’90s à la Wet Hot American Summer. A cover band played all the hits while campers showed off their beer pong skills or made their way down the Slip ’N Slide. Later that night, I pulled out my best Gwen Stefani outfit and headed to the ’90s prom, complete with a homemade wrist corsage.
You will not want to go back to the real world.
Once Sunday afternoon rolled around, I planted myself in a chair with a drink in hand and seriously contemplated holing up in one of the cabins and spending the entire summer there.
As the bus pulled away from camp, though, I was sure of one thing: What happens at Club Getaway, stays at Club Getaway (besides this story, of course).