I’ve done that myself.
But it wasn’t wheeled beds. We campers had to carry the counselor’s bed out of the cabin (don’t know where he’d been the night before, but he never woke up - only groaned) and down to the waterfront. And lift it onto the swimming raft we had un-anchored, and row that raft out into the lake. The best part was, we knew he slept nude and by the time he finally woke up on his little island a big crowd had gathered.
This was 1967, before all those silly summer-camp stunt flicks. Reality is not only stranger than fiction, but funner to do.
I’ve done that myself. But it wasn’t wheeled beds. We campers had to carry the counselor’s bed out of the cabin (don’t know where he’d been the night before, but he never woke up - only groaned) and down to the waterfront. And lift it onto the swimming raft we had un-anchored, and row that raft out into the lake. The best part was, we knew he slept nude and by the time he finally woke up on his little island a big crowd had gathered.
This was 1967, before all those silly summer-camp stunt flicks. Reality is not only stranger than fiction, but funner to do.