"Royal Night": entertainment on the edge. "royal" night What to do on royal night

19.03.2023

The last day of camp life. Labor Kid `s camp The lighthouse says goodbye to another shift. A month of living in a collective farm barracks with clay floors came to an end. Children run amok. There are hated pillows with bedbugs lying everywhere; girls jump on the springs of assembled beds, crushing ripe Don watermelons rolled up there; To the next bed, my girlfriends and I chained Natasha’s bra, whom we didn’t like the whole shift, with a barn lock. All twenty-one people who lived in our sixth ward paint each other with ballpoint pens: arms, legs, backs, bellies, necks, cheeks...Phrases like: “Did you think you were in a fairy tale?”, “Don’t piss, we’ll break through!” ", "Honduras", "It's time to go home!", as well as telephone numbers, names, addresses, so that we can find each other later.
I'm packing my things. I have a good place, by the window, with a view of the Don steppe, or rather, first of the toilet, then of the steppe. Suddenly the concrete wall of this very toilet shuddered as if from a strong shock and, quickly cracking along its entire length, began to collapse. "Wow! - I thought.” The wall collapsed, revealing a row of stinking holes in the concrete floor. “Cool, well done, boys!” The toilet was completely unbearable, these huge holes, infested with maggots, frightened me with the real possibility of falling into them, and for some reason brought up thoughts of the afterlife. With a friendly squeal, the girls and I approved of the boys' prank. Although they, of course, suffered a lot later for this crime.
The last day was a success. Then there was a disco. This time almost no one got drunk, and Lenka and I didn’t have to gather our fellow soldiers from the bushes before lights out. Instead, all the girls gathered in the ward, trainees from the senior shift came to us and very sincerely explained that today was a royal night. Anything is possible this night. But not to us, but with us. Usually local village boys know about her and try to get in on the girls, and if they are lucky, they will drag someone away. Then, however, they will most likely return it.
But we weren’t so much concerned about whether we would be returned or not, we became incredibly scared that we might be dragged away. And somehow the counselors made it clear that from today they are no longer responsible for us.
In general, we - twenty and one more frightened goats - began to frantically move the beds, prop up the door with a mop, table, and chairs. A bucket was placed in the passage for needs. Several people whose beds stood near the windows began to beg the others to switch with them. And me too.
It was a fun night. Of course, they tried to climb into the windows. We screamed and ran around the ward. The counselors came to the screams and got bogged down in our barricades, after some time silence was restored and then, in the middle of this silence, the cheerful ringing of a stream against a bucket began to be heard, and then everyone began to laugh deafeningly.
Royal night!

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12 answers

Well, everyone knows about the gypsy night and the lightning, but I personally had the experience of a conditionally successful escape.

The thing was that I lived in Ulan-Ude and, as a matter of course, I was sent to sports camp on Baikal for 3 weeks. They woke us up at 6:30 in the morning, forced us to run 3-4 km (I was 11 years old and I didn’t have good training at all, plus they put me in senior group), then for some reason we were forced to do the splits, had sparring sessions (the camp was with ITF Taekwondo) and a lot of other not very pleasant things. In general, after a week of such bullying, I thought that I had to get out. Every morning while jogging for three days I dropped off my things in a certain place (we were running around the camp area), collected Snickers, Twixes and two liter bottles of mineral water, found one like-minded person, and somewhere in the middle of the second week at 2-3 o’clock in the morning I crawled out through the window, since we closed for the night. And a like-minded person had a point, so I ran alone. Half an hour later, I packed my things and moved along the road towards the house, where, according to my calculations, I should have reached in 3-4 days. Well, my escape was conditional, because my like-minded person handed over all my route plans to the counselors and at 8 a.m. on the highway, a little ahead of me, a jeep stopped from which a face crawled out and so seriously asked, “Are you Artem Puchkov?” I nodded, the man got out of the car and gave me a nasty slap on the back of the head, stuck it in the car, and the whole time we were driving back, he lectured me about how bad it was to do that and that I had raised hell with the whole camp.

Everything ended well. Although there was a wild scandal that day, the next day my father took me and after a small scene in front of the counselors, he put me in the car and, of course, scolded me a little, and said that he was proud of me. That instead of whining and enduring all this, he began to look for a solution and was well prepared, thought through almost everything. That's how it goes.

My brother and I once went to a camp where they had boring discos every evening, and sometimes a “cinema”, which no one went to, since all the films and cartoons were quite old. We decided to diversify our holiday and came up with the idea of throwing slippers onto the balconies: whoever gets to the 4th floor (last) wins. Guys from other squads also joined us. As a result, two out of 14 people were able to throw the ill-fated slippers onto that same 4th floor balcony. It turned out that this floor was closed, and before the counselors burned us, we decided to climb up the window ledges ourselves and get our shoes. They climbed in, but they pulled us out of there only in the evening.

I didn’t go to camps as a child, but it so happens that now I run them myself :). And probably the most powerful prank that we (adults) played with the children was “A Day Without Adults.”

The fact is that over many years we have developed a powerful children's self-government. The guys from the team help in preparing the camp, then work in it as squad leaders, and even the “Camp Commander” (elected every 3 days) is an experienced child.

And then one day towards the end of the camp, in 2013 I think, we decided to conduct a stress test of this very self-government. Waking up around 6 am, all the adult teachers and counselors packed their backpacks and left the camp (the security, the doctor and the cooks remained, we are not animals). We settled down about a kilometer from the camp in the forest, set up tents, a fire, and began preparing for the next day. And in the camp...

The children woke up and saw “chain letters” in front of them. And an emergency phone number. The letters contained brief instructions for the day, something like this: “Dear Camp Commander! Now you know everything. We are gone. There is no need to look for us. We will return tomorrow. The keys to the Theater are under the pillow. The video camera is charging. The kayaks - do not touch. Plan of the day you know. All the best! With love, your instructors."

And the camp went on as usual :). The children did not touch the kayaks, carried out pre-prepared events themselves, played in the theater, filmed films, went to the canteen, and so on and so forth...

I must say that there were no incidents). And the alarm phone only rang twice a day. The first one was to check that it was not a joke, and the second one was when someone sprained their leg and the doctor warned us about it (those are the rules).

I must say that the draw was quite a success). By dinner we returned to the base, marching solemnly through the camp. The children, feeling the burden of responsibility, were happy to see us :).

Well, as for draws on a smaller scale, we have them every day. That is lightning with a sudden rise in alarm of the entire camp. It’s a role-playing game where everyone is repainted in different colors using face painting. That is the day of poetry with a residential building painted with poetry. It's just a ball...in Irish style. It's a fire with guitars until the morning. The main thing is that both children and adults have fun together :).

I was in the camp only once and it was a military sports camp in Divnomorsk. I finished the fifth or sixth grade, they lured me there with stories about how great it was to stand at a post at night with a machine gun, sing drill songs, run cross-country in the morning and learn to shoot accurately, after which they handed me a ticket with a beautifully drawn young Budenovite.

On the very first day, I really didn’t like it at the camp, because there were no songs or machine guns, but there were mesh beds that we were forced to take into the houses while waiting for the rest of the young military athletes. That evening we went on an escape.

They decided to spend the night by the river, near a fire in a hut they made with their own hands in the bushes. But when it got dark, it turned out that spending the night by the river was boring, so we walked home twenty kilometers. At the same time, when the headlights of a rarely passing car appeared, we shouted “Cops!” They jumped into the nearest thickets of bushes, losing their flip-flops, although personally I didn’t feel anything criminal behind me, except for the occasional light bulbs broken from slingshots. When I came home in the morning, for some reason my parents were not happy about the prodigal son and said that since I didn’t get a job at the post office delivering telegrams in the summer, then there was no point in hanging around and that they wouldn’t tolerate a deserter in the house.

I, the only one of our four fugitives, had to return to the camp voluntarily. Life was already slowly boiling there and I was surprised to discover that I was the only one who had come here twice voluntarily. The rest of the stream camp inmates were hard-to-educate people from the entire Gelendzhik region, sent there by the police children's room for various misdeeds. At first I honestly said that I came voluntarily, they looked at me like I was an idiot and, it seemed, didn’t believe me. Then I invented a criminal legend, according to which I am hanging here, and I never spoke such nonsense again. The contacts I made there turned out to be very useful in my later life. Although, many of my then acquaintances now associate the word “camp” with a completely different institution.

So, my camp term began. Instead of detachments, as in other pioneer camps, we had platoons, which in turn were divided into sections. We didn’t have pioneer leaders that girls fall in love with. Instead of them there were sergeants - ordinary post-army men who loved to drink and swear. However, there were no girls who could fall in love with them either - the camp contingent consisted exclusively of boys. I ended up in the second squad of the third platoon.

What seemed interesting and even romantic to me turned out to be completely different in the camp. Standing at a post with a wooden machine gun, under a mushroom at the entrance to the camp, alone, at night was boring, and sometimes even scary. Fortunately, this only happened to me once. Getting up early and running around the stadium was also not pleasant. The crowd ran past the washbasin, leaving those trying to smoke on the sly, then those addicted to the bad habit were expelled from there with obscenities, kicks and slaps from the sergeants. On the next lap everything happened again.

Then breakfast, which was eaten all. I don’t really remember how tasty it was, but I really wanted to eat it all the time. Then we were taken to work - to garter grapes. I didn’t become a leader, I hated it since childhood, but I learned how to tie grapes. Daily norms were given, the majority, including me, did not even try to fulfill them, but there were also those who exceeded them. For example, a guy from Kabardinka who was in my platoon. The head of the camp even called him to the line, expressed gratitude and handed him a metal ruble with Lenin. I don't remember being jealous of this idiot.

After work there was lunch, then a quiet hour. After a quiet hour, you could go swimming in the sea or the river, play football and pioneer ball. Sometimes they shot from small guns, ran around in gas masks, disassembled and reassembled a machine gun, and did many other interesting and useful things for the Motherland. And of course, a daily activity in quiet time is pillow fighting.

If someone says that pillow fights are fun and funny, I will agree with them. But let me clarify – a day or two. And then only when you win. And if eleven Kabardian Stakhanovites with hairy armpits fly into your cubicle, where the four of you live, and the pillow fight smoothly flows into the destruction of the room and the beating of those who did not manage to jump out the window, after a week it begins to get boring. This was terribly tiring, considering that by that time I myself had not published a heroic article. My genetic inheritance is such that I always looked younger than my age. This is for dad. This is probably good and gives hope for later fading, but as a child it did not make me happy. Until the tenth grade, I could not grow at the same pace as my classmates. Now I’m about eighty meters tall, but back then I was not only the only one in my class who went to school at the age of six, but I was even shorter than the girls and stood last in physical education. But I never ran out the window during the battle and honestly stood until the end. One day, while working in the vineyards, I remembered the upcoming daily battle with the first section of our platoon. But, since I still had little understanding of army terminology and was confused about the names of the units, I mixed up the words “squad” and “platoon.” It turned out that the first platoon was going to attack us - boys older than us, living in another house. The message had an effect I never expected. The platoon immediately forgot the old feuds between the squads and began to prepare for defense against an external enemy. The external enemy was not aware and was very surprised by the warlike shouts and name-calling addressed to them coming from the territory of our platoon. A big war was brewing.

To my surprise, no one remembered where the rumor about the upcoming attack came from, the information was enriched with new details and evidence and no longer raised any doubts in anyone. I didn’t intend to convince anyone and remind them of my role in starting the conflict. The quiet hour passed without the usual destruction of our cockpit, in anticipation of external aggression. They were clearly afraid of the enemy, it was noticeable. Yes, this is understandable - in the first platoon the boys were a year or two older than us, and besides, there were more of them. I alone did not show any concern, which even earned the respect of my comrades. I even tried to put forward the idea that no one was going to attack, but it was rejected as defeatist and the platoon came to the conclusion that if they didn’t attack, it meant they were chickening out. The end of the day passed under the impudent grins of my fellow soldiers and the bewilderment of the enemy about the clearly insolent youngsters. The next day everything was repeated - preparation for defense and no attack. This fact strengthened the defenders’ thoughts about the enemy’s cowardice and added impudence. And only on the third day, which also passed in anxious but bloodless anticipation, the senior men from the first platoon could not tolerate another impudent demarche of my comrades. Well, right at the evening movie show, they broke one of our beautiful Greek nose. After which the global conflict was settled.

The next day, the quiet hour began with the traditional raid of the first squad on our cockpit. The four of us held the door, nailed a hook onto it, then a second one - it was all useless. The constant result was our bruises and destruction of the room. Life was returning to its normal course again. One day, while putting things in order in the cockpit, wiping blood from my lips and rubbing bruised places, I suggested that next time we move the fighting to the territory of the aggressor, and to do this, attack first. That's what we did. I was the first to burst into the camp of the stunned enemy, jumping on the beds and smashing my pillow left and right. However, in view of the numerical superiority of the enemy, the lack of coherence of our actions, as well as the ordinary cowardice of my comrades, who retreated, abandoning me, I was captured by the adversary, crucified on the bed in the pose of the Savior and cynically painted with watercolors in the style of “Vinitu - son of Inchuchun " With all due respect to the art of body art and the Apache tribe, it was offensive and humiliating. I immediately went to seek support from senior comrades from my area, who, by the will of fate, were also here and in that very first platoon. The Greek profiles of my offenders, which had begun to heal, were again corrected, instructions were received that it is not always wise to offend younger ones, and relative peace reigned in our platoon.

Once I even received a real leave of absence for a day. I don’t even remember for what reason and for what merit. That's probably how it was supposed to be. I was given a uniform consisting of pants, a jacket and a cap made from domestic denim, as well as a letter of dismissal. The note was a document that indicated that I had not escaped from the camp in this form again, but that I was on leave by right and must return back on time. This was probably necessary to reassure my parents. The family greeted the hero somehow coldly and I hardly remember my one-day vacation. But I remember how we, all of us in jeans, went on two excursions. The first was not far away - near Novorossiysk, to the battery of Captain Zubkov. Guns are, of course, great. Only each of us had already been there at least five times before and knew every gun, probably better than the hero fighters of the defense of Novorossiysk. But the second excursion was to Kerch. You had to go there by bus and then by ferry. I remember the Adzhimushkai catacombs and the shell turtle that I bought for some reason. Here, the same exact turtles were sold on every corner. But this was Crimea. Even though it was not ours then, as it is now, it was still ours - Soviet, and everyone wanted to visit it.

This was my first, and so far only visit to the glorious peninsula. And I never went to the pioneer camp again. Somehow, I even managed to skip the sports and labor camp where the whole class went, it seems, after the eighth grade. So far God has had mercy on the rest of the camps.

I spent every summer in children's camps from the age of 8 to 17. So there will be stories)

When I was 8, I went to an Orthodox children's camp for the first time. We lived in wooden one-story buildings, one per detachment. Each building had two huge rooms - for boys and for girls, and each room had 8-10 beds. Opposite the building grew a huge apple tree, one large branch of which bent strongly under its own weight and created a kind of “secret place”, a gazebo of branches. We (the girls) picked and tore the mosquito net on the window and at night began to crawl out through it into the street, climbing into the gazebo and telling horror stories there. We were small and thin and easily climbed through, something that adults could not think of for a long time. A few days later we were burned to death by boys who, out of envy, handed us over to the teachers. They installed a new net for us and covered our trips, which is a pity) Such memories)

I have two older brothers, so my parents somehow managed to place me in their squads, and due to the fact that I was always several years younger than everyone else, they treated me in a special way, at the same time, many fun things were not available to me, due to this same factor. Each shift ended with a “royal night”, after which everyone woke up with toothpaste all over their bodies, girls and boys raided the opposite wings of the building almost every night, stole clothes and hygiene supplies in the “enemy camp”, at night from time to time they gathered in secluded corners with lanterns, and while the counselors were resting, they told horror stories, called the queens of spades and learned to kiss. In one camp, the shift ended with a day of self-government, when the camp turned into a city with its own money and all kinds of entertainment and ways to spend and earn it. It was possible to hire guys for any kind of work, massage the legs, get to another building on a stretcher, etc. Since I was the youngest on the shift, the head counselor made me the queen of the day, and I was allowed to do and buy whatever I wanted. The day ended around the fire, around which they sang songs, told poems and all sorts of stories. In one of the camps in Alushta, they ran away from the camp at night to swim in the sea at night, and went to local discos. Almost all of my childhood birthdays took place in the camps, and when my parents came to congratulate me, they prepared all sorts of gifts and gifts, since I celebrated it with the whole detachment, these were also feasts, because everyone on that day was allowed to drink and eat whatever they brought. parents, no restrictions. And probably not the most pleasant thing is that, having quarreled with one boy, I received a scar on my forehead, because he pushed me into a 3-meter basement, although he later received it from both the counselors and my brothers. In short, it was a fun time, something like that.

There was a "career guidance day" at the children's camp. In fact, each squad simply did their own “business” (some set up a post office, some were a taxi, there were origami training groups and much more), and the task was to collect the maximum amount of game money.
We had either a circus tent or a leisure center. I had a deck of cards and a very great desire to win... I wondered.

At first there was a queue of 5 people. Then 20, then 40. In total there were 220 people in the camp, and 170 passed through my “fortune telling table”. In general, for two days of this event I was busy to capacity.
At the end of 2 days, many people ran out of game money and I agreed to take “gifts” and real money. Our room was provided with sweets for the week ahead :) And the early passion for psychology and criminology, and a little - the ability to analyze, are to blame for everything. In general, it was cool!)

By the way, about jokes and practical jokes. A milk chocolate under a blanket on a warm summer morning is more invigorating than toothpaste and causes a storm of emotions in the victim. I myself never joked or mocked, but there were precedents around me)))

At nine years old, I found myself in a standard children's camp in the Ivanovo region. During sleep time, one of the informal leaders of the detachment, a large boor G., persistently persuaded some small boy (not in good health, judging by his face and behavior) to have, excuse me, oral sex with him (in a passive position for the holy fool) for some a small thing like a day of undivided use of a portable console. It was obvious to everyone that this was a prank, but the little guy had clearly prepared himself for a difficult and humiliating process, and not out of motivation in the form of a toy, but from the hopelessness and assertiveness of that freak.

There was a lot of things, and almost everything happened on the Royal Night. During the shift itself, I didn’t want to misbehave and ruin the counselor’s life, but in the last couple of hours - why not! Ahah

One day, the girls from the room and I pulled off a cool plan: we went to bed on time, without disturbing anyone and pretending that we knew nothing about the tradition of smearing ourselves with paste. But they foresaw that the boys from the detachment would trample towards us at night, and they placed plastic cups on the door in such a way that when the door was opened, they would all fall on those entering. Of course, they came to us at night as scheduled. When the glasses fell, everyone got scared and ran away to sleep. We, pretending that we were still sleeping, waited for a while until everyone returned to sleep, and then went to smear everyone ourselves. The whole squad got it from us: D And, most importantly, no one even woke up (there were about 20 people)! And in order to completely confuse everyone, we smeared ourselves a little with the paste, and no one thought that it was us)

Penultimate day at camp

Climb
Life according to a schedule (cleaning, washing, etc.)
Everything is as usual, you go for breakfast, then free time (activities, games), swimming, etc.
Quiet hour
During quiet times, you can arrange to collect your things. It’s quiet and calm, everyone in the wards packs up their bags and leaves only personal hygiene products and clothes for going home and to the disco.
Afternoon snack
Leader concert (Vozhatsky concert - The closing of each camp shift is a concert at which the spectators are children, and their leaders perform in front.) The leader concert is certainly a very important part of your camp life, therefore, try to come up with a concept as early as possible, and rehearse well. Also, at the counselor’s concert, various awards are given to children for their successes).
After the counselor's concert, dinner
Farewell bonfire

Farewell bonfire Could be:

Detachment
General camp

Before going to the fire, children should be clearly outlined the rules of behavior in nature. You must watch how they are dressed. And how they behave.

Namely:

When going to the forest, you need to take a spray with you against mosquitoes, ticks and other creatures (after spraying it or applying it according to the instructions)
If you have small children, monitor the process of using such drugs
Spray only on the street, it is contraindicated in the building!
Wear closed shoes
Long pants
Long sleeve sweatshirts
Headdress!
If there is no weather, but a fire is still planned, take umbrellas and raincoats with you
Make sure that all children are dressed according to the rules.

Bring bread, potatoes, and salt to the fire from the dining room. Definitely water. Find a guitarist in the camp, of course, if you are not a guitarist yourself, and quickly recruit him.

Pick up a couple of outdoor games, take sports equipment, and enjoy a wonderful vacation!

After the fire everyone runs to change into the building
Farewell disco
The end time is set by the camp administration.
Lights out (Royal night)

One of the traditions of almost all children's camps is the royal night. This is the last night before departure. IN royal night It is customary to smear each other with toothpaste. To avoid the royal night, many counselors take away toothpastes from their pioneers. But some pioneers, who are going to camp more than once, take 2-3 tubes of toothpaste with them.

Royal Night is not only a time of entertainment for the children, but also for the counselors. You can have fun and make fun of the children while they sleep (in a good way).

Remember that many children have terrible allergies to pastes and creams. There is no need to spoil other people's things, do all sorts of nonsense, yell and violate children's routine. Remember you must bring them joy! If you want to live in peace, then don’t do a royal night. Go to bed peacefully. Remember that a very difficult day awaits you in the morning, you need to get enough sleep.

It was the last, royal night at the camp by the lake, which I went to with my class. The camp was located in the forest, on the shore of a lake (I’ll hide the name). We lived in tents, got wood, fire, in general, all the conditions for a “wild” life.

Unfortunately, the forest guards did not allow us to make a fire due to the high wind, and therefore the entire camp sat in the dark. Someone was dancing on the playground, someone was sitting in their tent, and someone, like me, was sitting at the table and chatting with the class teacher, Svetlana Ivanovna. Svetlana Ivanovna told us her stories from her life, and we, her beloved and uneducated children, listened to her. Suddenly Svetlana Ivanovna stopped her story and began to speak more quietly:
- Do you hear a howl in the forest?
“No,” I answered. Maybe I'm deaf? But in reality, no howling was heard.
“Listen,” Svetlana Ivanovna said even more quietly. I still didn’t hear anything, but I pretended to be scared.
- And who is it? - asked my classmate Nastya.

Monster. Inna Viktorovna told me that when she and Nadezhda Nikolaevna were looking for sticks in the forest, they heard a howl. A monster stood before them. Inna Viktorovna said that he was dark, shaggy, he had visible cheekbones, a slightly lowered chin and small eyes.
- Tsoi, or what? - Daniil asked cheerfully. Svetlana Ivanovna looked at him tiredly and continued the story.
- So, he walks around the tents. So be careful.
I looked at the forest in fear and crossed myself. Yes, I did it on purpose.

Closer to midnight, everyone went to their tents. I lived in a tent with Marina. We decided to stay up all night because our classmates were supposed to cover us with paste, so we read the news on VKontakte. This went on until one o'clock in the morning. Suddenly, not far from our tent, a branch broke. Marina and I didn’t pay attention, you never know. But when a shadow hung over our tent, which we simply felt, it was almost invisible, but someone’s presence was felt. I was the first one who couldn't stand it:
- Guys, if you came to smear us with paste, then go to bed.
Silence in response. But no one left. And then a howl. He was plaintive, reminiscent of a wolf, but a little softer. Not a simple “oooh”, but something real that cannot be described in words. Marina turned off the phone and hid in her sleeping bag.
- Hey, where are you going? - I asked.
- If you’re so brave, sit down and solve the problem. And I'm afraid. I'm going to sleep.
And suddenly hands reached out to us through the walls of the tent. It was impossible to determine whose they were. We just hid in the corner of the tent and quietly screamed. By the way, I still don’t understand how Marina managed to jump out of the bag in a second and move to the other end of the tent.
- Hey, hamadryas! Let's go away! - I screamed. And silence. Marina began to push me towards the “doors” of the tent. - What are you doing?
“Go check it,” Marina said without emotion. I swallowed and pulled the lock. Carefully she opened the zipper and looked out. There was no one on the street. - What's there?
“There’s no one there,” I answered, closing the tent.
- Exactly guys. Well, I'll arrange it for them tomorrow.
“We heard, hamadryas, we’ll arrange something like this for you tomorrow,” I added.
And suddenly Svetlana Ivanovna’s voice:
- If you don’t fall asleep now, I’ll bring you such a hamadryas!

Marina’s and my faces should have been seen. After that, we lay for another hour and thought that we had suddenly said something wrong and that tomorrow we would get a scolding from the class teacher.

Everyone will agree that some of the most vivid memories of childhood are associated with summer camp.

For some, camp is a morning line-up with formation and raising of the flag, a squad song that will be remembered for a lifetime, an evening bonfire and the “Eaglet Circle”, or maybe waiting for parents on parent’s day. Someone will remember that it was in the camp that he learned to swim or play checkers. For some, camp is the first kiss and slow moments at the disco, tears of parting with new friends and girls’ notebooks covered with wishes.

The kaleidoscope of children's “camp” memories is diverse, but we can say with confidence that everyone remembers the last, longest night - the night before departure, when it is customary to stay up until dawn, say goodbye to friends and certainly make fun of each other. Now no one knows why this night was called “Royal”. But almost all camps honor this tradition.

But the “Royal” night doesn’t end there! Having returned to their rooms or tents after the fire, the guys are in no hurry to go to bed. They communicate and have fun, and the counselors do not interfere with this. The most banal entertainment - smearing sleepy friends with toothpaste is already a thing of the past, but scaring someone by telling a scary story or dressing up as a ghost is quite relevant. In stories about the Royal Night there is a place for tied laces on favorite sneakers, and frogs placed in the beds of girls, and various wardrobe items hung on trees, and many other original pranks.

But, no matter how hard the guys try to have fun, the last night before departure is permeated with the sadness of parting!

At the children's camp "Island of Heroes" the Royal Night takes place in a special way. And all because each shift in this adventure camp is a two-week game according to an exciting scenario, at the end of which the winning team is determined, which in a fair fight has earned the right to go to the Island of Heroes. It is on the “Royal” night that the winners go to the mysterious island.

The “royal” night in each camp is a bright, memorable event filled with a variety of emotions. There is a place for fun and rejoicing, for sadness and disappointment and, of course, for hope, hope that a new summer will come, and friends will meet again at their favorite camp!