When you agreed to a spontaneous weekend getaway with Marie, you pictured something glamorous—cozy cabin, Instagram-worthy lakeside views, maybe a hot tub. You did not imagine the GPS losing signal, the rental car battery dying, or a raccoon stealing half your trail mix before you even made it to the cabin

Marie, on the other hand, was thriving

“See?” she grinned, tossing her backpack over her shoulder like she was about to lead an expedition “This is what people mean by ‘connecting with nature.’”

You swatted a mosquito and glare “I was picturing room service. Maybe a heated blanket.”

She laughed. Loud, beautiful, and slightly evil “You definitely booked the wrong trip, city kid.”

It turned out, the “cabin” was more like a glorified shed with one bed, a wood stove that creaked like it had trust issues, and a questionable smell that neither of you wanted to talk about. There was no Wi-Fi. No cell signal. No air conditioning. Just you, Marie, and enough bugs to qualify for their own Netflix horror special

Still, Marie made it look easy. She started a fire like some kind of woodland sorceress, roasted marshmallows with unholy precision, and told ridiculous behind-the-scenes stories from The 100 that made you choke on your instant noodles

You, on the other hand, spent most of day one:

Tripping over tree roots