From the bloggers at Houstonia.
It was the middle of the night at Little Lake Charles RV Park, and I was dead asleep in the back of our 2013 Windsport, a 35-foot vehicular behemoth that my husband and I had borrowed from Ron Hoover RV & Marine, off I-10 near Katy, for the weekend.
We were surrounded by darkness; the wind on the lake was all we heard. Then: another sound. Footsteps. I was awoken by what sounded like someone scampering up the RV’s ladder. I sat up in bed, my heart beating fast, and tried to get a hold of myself.
Why would someone climb the ladder? I asked the logical side of me. Because there’s probably a hatch that he could use to lower himself into the living area, replied my crazy side. The uncertainty continued. This is a nice place full of families. He wants my purse. There’s nobody out there. We are going to die.
I heard it again—footsteps, definitely footsteps. I shook my husband like a ragdoll. “There’s somebody on the roof,” I hissed. He sat up. His eyes were still half-open but you could see the skepticism a mile away. Slowly, he got up and made his way to the Windsport’s cockpit.
“It’s raining,” he groaned. “Can’t you hear it? The wind is shaking the awning.” He pressed a button, the awning reeled itself in, and the noise stopped. I fell back onto my pillow, feeling relieved but also a little exposed. Something about me had just revealed itself, something embarrassing and long-concealed: I was biased against the whole RV thing.
To read the full story by Houstonia, click here.