Pulling into Hillview Acres Campground late on a Friday night, we were greeted with a smile and quick service to get us to our site. We purchased a gator load of firewood and that was going to be delivered right to our site. What a great start, we thought. We were warned to be sure to follow the posted 10 MPH speed limit. No problem. We cautiously, slowly worked our way to our campsite. We get to the area where our site was to be and there was no empty site where we thought ours was to be (few sites were actually marked). My husband wandered around in the dark trying to figure out where we were to be. A campground host drove up behind him and he asked if we needed assistance and my husband shared our confusion. We learned then that a pop up was situated on our site. We were told to just take the site next to it. Must have been some confusion. So as we proceed to do so, a camper at a neighboring site walked over and said oh, that’s our site for tomorrow night so you’ll have to take that one. Picture a small patch of woods slowly lowering in elevation as one proceeds down the hill. We’re now heading down the hill for sure. Did we mention we have a tent to place? At this point, the campground owner approaches on his gator (at 10 mph for sure) and we grab him as he passes us to go to our actual assigned campsite. He has no idea why these folks are on our site but gives no insight as to how to solve the situation. My husband states that we can put our tent “here”. Mr. camp owner says, “Oh no, that’s too close. You’re actually into the other site.” So here we are on our lowering elevation in a site that is 7 yards by 15 yards hoping to house a tent, a full size pick up truck, a fire ring and a picnic table. My husband suggests we just set up for the night and re-evaluate come morning when we can all see what’s going on. Mr. camp owner snaps, “You can either take this site or take your money now and leave. If you stay, it’s a three night minimum.” “We can see better in the morning,” my husband states. “No, it’s a three night minimum. And I loaded this wood and brought it to you. You need to take it. I have work to do!” (Remember it’s 11 o’clock at night). Finally, we find a place to pitch our tent (mostly on our own site). Mr. camp owner is long gone after dumping his gator load of wood (mostly on our own site). We wake up and find that our placement isn’t so bad, sleeping on relative flat, with a great view of the playground and the port a john. Because the folks next to us were all together, lucky for us they sat around the fire at the upper site which gave us some space. However, the neighbor did comment on what a nice song we sang as we tucked into bed at night. (See the proximity of our next door neighbors?) The closest flushing toilet and hot water availability is a minimum 10 minute walk (by an adult) and the shower house is deplorable. We were better off to go to the nearby state park and clean off there in the public bathhouse. The port a john was less than desirable after a long holiday weekend and no attention. At the playground, my children were faced with a ladder to the slide with a broken top rung with very rough edges and a slide that slid into the gravel covered ground. Literally the bottom of the slide was at least an inch and a half under the gravel. The plastic on the baby swing was so dry rotted I would not have trusted my child in it. On a positive note, we learned the work he had to do. He sat on his gator at various spots around the park with his radar gun making sure everyone was going under 10 mph so our little ones were safe. He was proud of his mission, letting us know he had purchased 4 of them. We would have suggested he use that money on updating his restroom facilities….but at least our dirty little ones were safe from speeders.