Boy Scouts of America - a brief introduction

Yesterday, in a very welcome break from the cloud cover that seems to be perpetually hanging over Los Angeles this month, I was given my first experience of the Boy Scouts of America. And you know what? I absolutely loved it! And it gave me a great chance to learn a bit more about the structure of the BSA, which I will try to relate here.

The first event I went to, with Second Cousins Oliver and Ben, was a Pack 718's rocket launch. The premise was simple; make a rocket out of paper an tape that would be stuck on a tube attached to a compressed air cylinder; the Cubmaster released the pressure, and hey presto! Rockets!

At the launch I saw lots of cubs with different coloured hats; orange, yellow and blue. These referred to different ranks of Cub Scouts; Tigers, Wolves, and Bears (ranks are a recurrent theme here in BSA). Each one is given a different scarf and cap to wear as part of their uniform, which is a dark blue shirt. The whole group is called the "pack", the same as the UK, and within the pack the kids are split into 'Dens'. Dens are very similar to UK Cub Scouts' 'Sixes', and are led by one Cub called a 'Denner', but each Den is also lead by a Cubmaster and meets separately to the other dens, each week; once a month the whole pack gets together for an activity like the rocket launch I saw. The Dens are normally based on age and rank, so you will end up with a Den of Tiger Cubs, Wolf Cubs, or Bear Cubs. After Bear cubs there is a rank called Webelos; Webelos means "WE'll BE LOyal Scouts", and focuses on the transition up to the Boy Scouts, and they wear green caps (or, according to good old Wikipedia, they can wear the Boy Scout uniform with blue shoulder loops!).

The rocket launch was a lot of fun; paper and sellotape everywhere, pens that didn't quite work properly to decorate the rockets with, big fun-loving Cubmasters manning the pneumatic rocket guns, and an atmosphere of organised chaos hanging over the whole scene. But we weren't there for too long; I had been invited to Troop 718's Honor Court! Now I know what you're thinking; what is an Honor Court?

I wasn't expecting this, to be honest with you, but I was secretly hoping for it (source)

Well, an Honor court is a formal event at which the Scouts are awarded their badges; this is different to the UK, where badges are normally given out at the end of meetings. The event was MC'd by two of the older scouts, who called up their fellows individually for their merit badges. It was here I learnt that Boy Scouts wear their merit badges on a sash; it was very confusing at first because in the UK only Brownie Guides wear sashes!

Cub Scouts actually wear their badges on their belts, which
I personally think is brilliant. If they earn the second stage
of each merit badge they get to wear a pin on their shirts, too

After Merit badges, rank advancements were awarded. The ranks represent a Boy Scout's advancement through the section, and is the path that ultimately results in the title of Eagle Scout; the highest rank in the Boy Scouts. I didn't get a chance to learn all the ranks, and for this I think it would be cheating to look them up on Wikipedia, so I will have to try and learn them from another scout when I next meet some! The ranks I did see were Tenderfoot, Second Class, First Class, and Life Scout; Life Scouts, I believe, are only one rank away from being Eagle Scouts.

After the awards had been presented, I was honoured to be given a chance to talk about my trip, and to try to enthuse the kids with an international curiosity. In the US, Boy Scouts range from 10.5 years to 17, so there was a wide range of ages to talk to, from those who would simple enjoy talking to a foreign pen-pal to those who are in a position to start thinking about making their own international adventures, and make their own friends in other countries. And I also knew that my public speaking skills were getting better; I kept the kids interested even though I was standing between them and food, games, and pie eating!

"Dude, shall we just push him out the way and eat pie?"

"Wait until the leaders start looking bored first, man"

Speaking of pies... if you watch this YouTube video you can see what happened when I was invite to take part in the Boy Scouts' pie toss...

Did you watch it? If you did, then you will have met my cousins Ben and Oliver! (Ben was the one who threw the last pie). It was ok though, we all made friends in the end...

Ice cream, the healer of all pie-related conflict

Week 5: Borders, Buses and Burgers: my first few days in the USA

Neckers swapped: 1
Waffles eaten: nearly 2
Miles travelled: 1,139.1 (16 on a bike)
Hours spent on long distance buses: 19
Species of duck observed: 2 (maybe 3, but for a while 1 because I didn't believe that Muscovy Ducks existed because seriously, what kind of duck doesn't quack?!)

It’s been an emotional week. Leaving Mexico, entering the US, and just over a quarter of the total trip done. But what a week!

Despite y’all having heard from me before I left Mexico (see how I’m learning the local language!), I will go back to Guadalajara. I was shown round the sights by Laura Vina and Gilberto, two local rovers who were very happy to exchange neckers with Furze Platt Scout Group – an I hope that they have a lot of fun talking to each other! I saw the giant indoor market, which was reminded me of a modern version of the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul (and it will remind any Assassin’s Creed: Revelations player of the same thing), though I didn’t get a hat there that looked really good, as I didn’t have enough pesos left to get it and I didn’t want to get more pesos out when I was leaving so soon. No matter; that evening I had dinner with Laura and Omar, the local Clan leader, and another guy who’s name escapes me right now, who was the local caminantes leader. They were kind enough to drop me at a local bar, where Miguel and some friends were meeting, listening to some chilled out Jazz; all in all, it was a fantastic last night in Mexico.

Here I am doing my famous 'Ray Charles Salsa' impression with one of the locals...

... as you can tell from their face, they were a big fan!

The bus ride to Monterrey was uneventful, though I did get to watch The Lion King en Espanol. I had some fun getting a taxi to the airport from the bus station, as I did eventually have to go and get some more cash out (In some places in Mexico they combat taxi drivers taking advantage of tourists by issuing you with a pre-paid ticket to a set destination, such as the airport, but of course they didn’t accept cards!). Once at the airport, the debate of which terminal I should be sat in – the one my ticket said, or a different one – ended with the conclusion that I should not trust my ticket, and a short walk from Terminal C to Terminal A. I also went through my old tradition of taking a full bottle of water in case of thirst, not drinking it, and then having to down it all before going through the X-ray machine; or this time around, after going through the X-ray machine. At least the security guys were impressed/amused by my ability to drink water at a great speed. And a short flight later, I found myself in the USA!

Look Ma! I saved these especially for the plane trip!

It was quite disorienting at first just hearing English again as a background language. It was surprising to find myself understanding what other people around me could say, but this was made up for by the coins being infinitely more confusing – the difference between a nickel and a dollar coin is not as easy as the difference between 5 and 10 pesos, and the fact that the US has dollar bills and dollar coins is equally as confusing. Nonetheless I manage to get a bus downtown, discover that the Greyhound bus terminal did not have sufficient luggage storage to look after my things for the day, and wander around until I found a friendly Marriott hotel who were happy to look after it for me (for free no less – thanks guys!) I then proceeded to spend a great day wandering San Antonio’s waterways, even renting a bike to explore a bit outside the city to the missions (big ol’ church things). After an evening spent eating in a nice restaurant and watching a charity performance of Hispanic dancing styles in the open air theatre (the stage is separated from the audience by part of the river network) it was time to collect my bag and go wait at the bus station.

There was only one, over-worked and under-interested looking fellow working on the desk, but I was a little put out when, at 3:55am (5 minutes after my bus was due to leave), having heard nothing about my bus but assuming it was slightly late, the desk guy walked past and casually informed me that my bus had left. Of course! I had forgotten that the Greyhound bus service have a habit of overselling their busses, and so they tell you on the ticket that said ticket does not actually guarantee you a space on your bus, just a place in the fight for a space on the bus. And this time around, it seemed, I had not even managed to get that. Slightly annoyed, and missing the efficiency and comfort of Mexico’s Primera Plus service, I settled down to wait until 5:25am for the next bus.

 

"Sir, your replacement bus has arrived. Just hang your baggage on the horns"

 

This bus did arrive, and I was aware of it, but it was a close run thing to get on – as before, the bus was overbooked, and the poor driver was having a hard time fitting everyone on! Thankfully I wasn’t delayed again until 8am, and made it on to the bus where I enjoyed the driver’s unique pre-drive safety announcement, which suggested I should use my headset if I wanted to listen to my tape player (some of you reading this may not even know what a tape player is!) and that I should stay out of jail by not smoking on the bus, as if I was smoking on the bus the police could be called. There was also something about not talking to the driver because he had to concentrate on the tractors on his back, and a general comment about what a madhouse the greyhound bus was. But six hours later I arrived in Dallas, not in the hands of local law enforcement and with no tractor-related accidents to speak of, where I met Karin Oxtoby.

Here we both are, dressed in traditional Oxtoby costume

Karin and I are not, as yet, officially related. We share the same surname, and this is how we know each other; there is a Facebook group for Oxtobys to come together to talk about Oxtoby related issues and share fun stories about how nobody can spell our name right. The name is rare enough that we probably are distantly related, but since my Mum hasn’t yet spoken to the Canadian branch of Oxtobys to link up family trees, it’s all speculation at this point. Nevertheless, she kindly took me into her home, introduced me to her hedgehogs, and even drove me around while I tried to meet with various BSA officials to establish how I was going to register for, and attend, the BSA Jamboree in July. We wandered round the BSA Museum we discovered next to the office, went out for some drinks, and went along to Boot Camp exercise class (45 minutes of repeated activities which were not a good idea having drunk nearly 2 litres of strawberry Fanta just an hour before). One day we ate waffles for breakfast and burgers for lunch, and the other two days we had steak for dinner. We even played the House of the Dead on her PS3, and went cycling round a lake where we met a guy giving out free advice! It was a lot of fun and I am sad that I only got to spend three days with her.

 

And the hedgehog! LOOK AT IT!

 

However, time waits for no man and before long I found myself waiting for my 29 hour bus journey over to L.A, there to see some more immediate family, David & Connie (my Mum’s cousin and cousin-in-law). Find out what happens to me there, and why the week started on such a bummer, next time!