You Won't Believe What Happens When 500 People Vanish from Campgrounds—The Shocking Truth!

Last week in Nashville, I met a full-time RVer named Mike, who was camped next to us. Over a couple of days, we fell into that easy rhythm that often happens in campgrounds. I borrowed his RV cleaning supplies to get some of the Michigan road grime off our fifth wheel, and we exchanged stories, visiting back and forth like neighbors used to do before suburban privacy fences became the norm.

Then Mike said something about the RV lifestyle that has been rattling around in my head ever since: “I've never met disgruntled people in a campground.”

I stood there, holding his cleaning solution, letting that sink in. Never? I've encountered my share of negative people in various walks of life—those who are perpetually unhappy, the contrarians who argue just to argue, or the folks who lament their loneliness while pushing everyone away. But Mike was right; I haven't met them in campgrounds.

The Campground Experience in Tampa

Currently, we're camped at the Florida RV SuperShow in Tampa, which, if anything, is a place designed to put this theory to the test. The campground is less than ideal; the spots are so tightly squeezed together that you could stand between your rig and your neighbor's and touch both slide-outs with your arms extended. It's essentially the RV equivalent of airline economy seating.

As I write this, the temperature dropped to a brisk 47 degrees last night—not exactly a classic Florida winter shorts-and-T-shirt night. Yet, it was nearly 10:30 PM before folks finally stopped visiting. Total strangers, who only five minutes earlier had been strangers, formed bonds through laughter and shared stories in the cold.

In this packed Tampa campground, no one complained about the tight quarters. People just smiled, shrugged, and made the best of it. It speaks volumes about human resilience and optimism—choosing to perceive packed-in proximity as an opportunity rather than an inconvenience. Statistically, surely there must be some disgruntled campers here; the law of averages suggests as much. Yet, I haven’t seen them.

Why Do Negative People Stay Away?

So, where do all the negative people go? Perhaps they are at home, scrolling through social media to find reasons to be outraged. Maybe they’re writing scathing reviews about hotels due to fluffy pillows or convincing themselves that travel is too difficult, and people are too hard to deal with. As a result, they miss out on the joy of connecting with others.

Meanwhile, the rest of us are out here in campgrounds, packed in like sardines, enduring the cold, and having the time of our lives. The RV lifestyle seems to filter for a particular mindset. It’s not that RVers don’t face problems—mechanical breakdowns, weather delays, and reservation snafus are all part of the package. However, we tend to view these challenges as adventures rather than catastrophes. They become stories rather than complaints.

Every inconvenience is an invitation; every problem is a story waiting to unfold. Every stranger is a friend we haven't met yet.

Disgruntled people aren’t banned from campgrounds; they are welcome here anytime. But I suspect they don’t come because being disgruntled requires a very particular environment—one where you can control everything, avoid everyone, and maintain a carefully curated list of grievances.

Campgrounds don’t allow for that. Weather happens, things break, and plans change. You can either rage against it all or laugh, adapt, and discover that the detour was better than the original plan.

The Campground Covenant

There’s an unspoken agreement in every campground, a silent covenant among people who have chosen this lifestyle. We all independently but unanimously decide that happiness is a choice we will make every single day. This isn’t about toxic positivity or fake cheerfulness; it’s a fundamental decision to interpret situations in ways that don’t make us miserable.

Is your neighbor too close? Great! It makes borrowing tools easier. Is the weather uncooperative? Perfect excuse to stay inside and read. Is the campground not as nice as you hoped? Doesn't matter. You bought your own house, and you’ll be moving soon.

Mike was right. We don’t see disgruntled people in campgrounds. Maybe they are out there somewhere, but they are missing an incredible experience. The connections, the laughter, and the sense of community are all worth it, even in tight quarters or chilly nights.

So, we’ll be here, packed in tight, whether freezing or sweltering, facing breakdowns or breakthroughs, turning strangers into friends and setbacks into stories. Because that’s what we do. That’s who we are. We’re RVers, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.