Lotdocking Points

Katiedid Langrock
Fri, 26 Feb 2021 21:00:00 -0800
Lifestyle

"I used to keep a list of my favorite airports," I said to my friend on our most recent girls trip, referring to a time in my life long ago when I was jet-setting around the South Pacific as a backpacker.

"I still keep a list," my friend said. "Gotta know how you're gonna sleep."

"Exactly!" I said.
Updated: Sat Feb 27, 2021

"I used to keep a list of my favorite airports," I said to my friend on our most recent girls trip, referring to a time in my life long ago when I was jet-setting around the South Pacific as a backpacker.

"I still keep a list," my friend said. "Gotta know how you're gonna sleep."

"Exactly!" I said.

"My airport point system is based on how far I have to walk to get to my first-class lounge room, the comfort of the bed there, the strength of the shower and how long it takes me to get my Champagne delivered. Also the food."

"Oh, so maybe not exactly," I said, having absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

"What did you judge the airports on?" she asked.

"Whether the TVs were too loud for me to sleep, whether the AC was too cold for me to sleep and whether they'd even let me sleep on the floor overnight after I got my bags."

"Oh," my friend said, having absolutely no idea what I was talking about. She works for a major tech company. She flies in a reclining pod.

This year in science studies, both of my children learned about what humans need to survive. We need air, they learned. We need fuel, they learned. We need shelter, they learned.

"Is Tube Toilet our shelter?" they asked.

Tube Toilet is the name the children gave the RV. My husband wanted Romeo Victor, based on the International Radiotelephony Spelling Alphabet. Tube Toilet won out. I wanted White Whale. I wanted Belly. I wanted The Boss, because "Badlands" is the theme song of our adventure. Tube Toilet remained the winning name.

"Can't we call it TuTo?" I asked.

"No, Mama, we have to call it Tube Toilet," they protested. "Because the toilet is a tube. Get it?"

"Yes, believe me, I get it. And yes, this year, Tube Toilet is our shelter."

My children danced around and kissed the walls of the RV.

"We love our Tubey Toilet," they sang. "He's alive," they said. "He needs air, fuel and shelter, too."

My husband tried to protest. The RV is part of the family, sure, but it isn't exactly alive. My husband was quickly shut up by the kids.

"He is!" they shouted. "He needs air, fuel and shelter!" They pet the walls and whispered, "Don't listen to that mean man."

The kids aren't entirely wrong. Tube Toilet is our shelter, but where we park him each night becomes our shared shelter.

"I keep a list of my favorite Walmart parking lots," I said to friends on our last girls call.

"Oh, my gosh, what does that even mean?" my friend who keeps a list of airports with the speediest Champagne laughed. She had just given us all a virtual tour of her new $2 million condo. Seeing as my children were asleep in the shelter of Tube Toilet, I gave my friends a virtual tour of the campground's restroom, which was next to where I was sitting during the call.

"It's a list based on whether you're allowed to sleep in the parking lot at night. Do they kick you out in the early morning? How noisy is the parking lot? How safe does it feel? And how many other RVs or trucks are parked there?"

"This is worse than your airport list," my pod friend said. "Can you get room service to the parking lot? Champagne?"

"No. But extra points if we can walk to a good breakfast," I said. "Negative points to the one time a guy urinated next to the RV."

Even if his name is Tube Toilet, he doesn't deserve that.

"And you're continuing on this journey by choice?" my friends asked.

We are. Tomorrow we head west again. It is a change to plans. We thought we'd lazily head up the East Coast as the weather turned, but the adventure and escapism Tube Toilet has provided our family during this horrific year is calling to us. A few campgrounds are booked, and a few Bureau of Land Management locales are noted, but mostly the calendar is dotted with parking lots — a star next to the favorites.

I was recently told our Walmart stays are called lotdocking. It's not for everyone, we know, but we are so grateful for our lot in life. And our air, fuel and shelter, Tube Toilet.