Hipsters are a breed commonly associated with the life in a city. We like to get our Starbucks coffee on a street corner where there are 3 other Starbucks. We like to strut our ridiculously tight pants (not conducive to childbirth) down the streets of a metropolis.
However, for some young hipsters from the mountains of Pennsylvania, we like to get in touch with our nature roots.
We long for the smell of pine trees to cover up the cat urine, the rush of a spring creek to distract us from the spilt alcohol that litters the ground, a refreshing scent of fresh-cut grass to make us forget the hobo vomit on our stoops.
This is not enjoyable.
Just one glimpse of nature is all we ask for.
So, I would like to start an official hipster tradition. Let’s go back to our roots! Let’s go camping!
“Camping?” You ask. “In the city? That doesn’t make any fucking sense. If I went camping I would surely get mugged by a rogue cat.”
And you sir or madame, would be correct. However, last night, I discovered a new form of camping that destroys all these fears! You can still be with a group of people roasting marshmallows (on a lighter), telling ghost stories, and freezing your ass off. You can be at one with nature again. Sort of. All you need is roof access and a lot of ambition!
Roof camping. It’s the hottest thing since Barbara Streisand invented hell.
I have proof this is a hipster activity because when I was on the roof last night snuggled up in my amiga’s comforter, someone yelled out the window at five in the morning, “Get off my roof you fucking hipsters. Woodstock is over you fucking hippies!”
All the cred I need.
toasty redhead
05/14/2011
I didn’t know that.