Trailer Trash

Ok, so. Long ago and far away, I did a short stint in a trailer park in Ocean Park, WA. The managers were a couple in their 60's, madly in love, and living life the way only royal fuck-ups who have seen the light and know it's coming for them can. Both were on their second or third marriage, both had grown kids in other states, both loved nothing more than a practical joke and to take in the area's strays (me and my rotten friends included). Kay was a mean cook and a believer in tough love. Ivan's favorite thing to do was convince visitors to moon passers by from their living room window. It overlooked the main roadway through the park and he could start some juicy gossip that way. On a good day he'd get 3-4 people standing up on the couch, their bare asses pointed at unsuspecting RVers.
At night, the older folks in the park would come down to the house to cook up a seafood feast and sip on some wine. I crashed the party whenever I could because the colorful jokes and stories never stopped and I loved listening to them. By the end of the night my cheeks would hurt from laughing so hard. I was hoping to capture some of this magic with the Empty Nesters Club. Not so, Hawkers excluded. Nice people, but maybe not the types to find random nakedness, dirty jokes and elderly abuse (i.e. getting 80 year olds drunk for comedic relief) amusing. To be fair, I don't think anyone could live up to those memories.
I'd post a picture of the lean-to I rented that summer or the group on our elk hunt but those are in a dank basement in CA. Here's one of the happy Pollack himself. That's a Winston in his hand. Smokers take note: he died of emphysema later that year. Maybe you should quit now.