Biff was the guy that NO ONE ever wanted to share a tent with. I touched on this subject in some of my earlier writings but never revealed his name.
And the sad truth is that Biff wasn't his name. For the purpose of this story, I'll continue calling him by the nickname a group of hurtful Boy Scouts gave him.
Biff deserves much better and I wish I remembered his real name. I'd replace it with the nasty pseudo-name in a second.
Biff's Disposition Was Described In His Branding
Unfortunately, at the age of 12 years old I wasn't quite mature enough to reject the use of the label Biff. While I wasn't involved in the dubbing, I knew what it refered to.
Though I'm not sure if anyone still calls them Biffys, it's what we used to call the stand up portable pottys. Just like the kind you'd expect to see on a construction site or in a campground.
Anyone who's ever had the pleasure (not) of using a portable toilet knows how bad they can smell. This was the reason some rather malicious Scouts chose the name Biff.
While Derogatory, The Nickname Was On Spot
Now you know why no one ever wanted to have to share a tent with Biff. Biff had red curly hair and was quite stocky for his age. He wasn't one to put up with physical harrasment but he didn't stick up for himself in any other regard.
Whatever happened in his upbringing, Biff just never really learned how to clean himself. Perhaps being on the road as we were for so many days took it out of him. I don't know, but I can tell you, he never showered.
Even sitting on the same bus with Biff could be a challenge if you were within 4 rows of his seat. Our Scoutmasters tried to have several 'come to Jesus' type talks with Biff, to no avail.
I Made It Through Most Of The Two Month Trip Unscathed
About 90 or so Boy Scouts were on a two month trip across the United States when this all happened. It was the first time I saw NYC, the Empire State Building and the World Trade Center.
We had so many experiences that I can't begin to remember them all, even as I write about that time. It's funny that Biff is such a prominent part of my recollection.
Though I made it about a month and half without having to tent up with a horrid smell, my day came as I feared it would. It happened while we were attending the National Jamboree at Fort A.P. Hill.
Word got out (undoubtedly from my own stupid bragging lips) that I hadn't had to share a tent with Biff. Once the rumor was in the wind, the hammer fell shortly after.
By The Second Night, I'd Had It
Here's the part I remember most prominently. Sleeping with Biff in that tent was unbearable so I thought about how to handle the situation.
What did I come up with as an answer? I decided to talk to Biff about it, but to try an approach that perhaps hadn't yet been applied.
My approach was called compassion and it still works quite well to this day.
It was a tough conversation. Biff really didn't want to listen to me at all, but he didn't want to go anywhere anyone else was either. So he sat and listened and I laid it all out.
In remembrance, I wasn't shy about telling him the truth of the matter and how unpleasant it was for everyone around him. His own wellbeing was also a topic I brought up.
To end the conversation, I took it in a completely different direction. For one thing, I apologized for calling him Biff and told him it wasn't right to be called such a nickname.
Explaining to Biff that cleaning himself up would likely make the name calling stop, I placed myself in his shoes. I told him I could understand why he might not want to comply with what a bunch of assholes were telling him to do.
In The End, I Loaned Out Some Toiletry
Somehow I was able to get through to Biff that day. Trying to push him out of the tent the night before hadn't worked, but I like to think a better approach did.
What did I learn? We sure can be cruel to people when we don't care for their behavior, but it's never a tactic that brings the desired result.
Thanks for reading and as always....
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