Trail Trash #003: Why Did That Raccoon Have a Name Tag?
- Trail South
- May 23
- 2 min read
Location: A “family-friendly” campground in Mississippi
Vibe: Paranormal. Suspicious. Slightly damp.
We were just there for the hookups.
Not those hookups — I’m talking 30-amp electric, running water, and a gravel pad that doesn’t tilt your entire RV like a haunted carnival ride. Simple needs.
The place looked decent. Nice trees. Mosquitos that respected personal space. A camp store that sold actual firewood and not “compressed mulch pucks” pretending to be logs.
Things were going great.
Until dusk fell.
And he arrived.
At first, I thought it was just a regular raccoon. You know — little garbage burglar with jazz hands. He waddled across the path like he had a mission. No big deal.
But Kala saw him. And Kala does not do raccoons.
She barked. He stopped.
He turned his head slowly — like something out of a B-movie horror trailer — and that’s when I saw it.
A NAME TAG.
Not a collar.Not a tracking tag.A full-on laminated name badge hanging from a string like he was about to clock in for a shift at Costco.
It said:
“STEVE”Camp Host (Unofficial)
I'm sorry… WHAT.
The next 10 minutes were a fever dream:
Steve waddled toward the camp store like he owned equity.
A staff member waved at him like he was a coworker.
A kid said, “Hi Steve!” like this was normal.
And I SWEAR I saw Steve stop to eat a marshmallow off a skewer someone left unattended.
No one flinched.
Meanwhile I’m standing there like, “Did I hit my head earlier or is this raccoon on payroll?”
We asked the front desk. They just laughed and said,
“Oh, he’s part of the vibe.”
I don't know what "the vibe" means anymore, but I'm pretty sure it involves raccoons unionizing.
Final Thoughts:If I die under mysterious circumstances, please check the raccoon.And if you stay in Mississippi and someone says “Steve will show you your site,” just know you’re not getting a man with a golf cart — you’re getting a nocturnal gremlin in a name tag who runs that campground now.
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💬 Seen something worse than a name-tagged raccoon?
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Possums in swimming pools
Campground cults
Salsa-based arguments with strangers named Darlene
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