My first few days at Archeology Summer Camp have been a huge disappointment, culminating with last night's disagreeable situation in which I was forced to refuse the filthy spade offered to me by the course instructor. I told him, quite bluntly, that I was under the impression that real archaeologists hired native laborers to do all the strenuous digging, and that I would spend my working day in a comfortably furnished tent, interpreting five-thousand year-old hieroglyphics, piecing together fragments of shattered antiquities, and mocking the fez-wearing local mystic who claims that it is a grave mistake to excavate in that sacred area.
Evenings on the site are also extremely tedious. Despite wandering around by myself I have yet to be attacked by the mummified remains of some re-animated Egyptian Pharaoh, and since the course instructor apparently doesn't have a daughter, nor have I been able to acquire a love-interest whom I can rescue from being sacrificed on a crumbling altar by evil priests. I'm seriously beginning to doubt that I will even be clubbed on the back of the head during our field trip to the museum.
I don't know. Perhaps I should just leave and ask for my money back?
