Ever pull up next to someone at a campground and notice they brought way more stuff than you did? Or get to a campsite after hiking 9 or 10 miles and look over to see your friend pulling all kinds of superfluous crap out of his/her backpack?
I mean, camping is roughing it, right? It’s supposed to be uncomfortable. It’s perfectly natural to feel a little self-righteous when you notice someone has brought what you estimate to be too many creature comforts along: Come on, man, is that an Aeropress in your pack? Who brought the ice cream maker car camping? Whoa whoa whoa, is that a pillow?
Like the food chain, everyone who “goes camping” has a place on the spectrum of roughing it. Above you are people who take fewer comfort items, and below you are all those weenies who apparently can’t make it a single night without their down booties/extra-thick camping pad/butane-powered curling iron/stuffed animal collection.
This is the Hierarchy of Camping. If you sleep outdoors, you are on it. And you look up to someone, unless you are a bear, because you are at the top. Or John Muir or Kennewick Man, because you have been dead for a hundred years or thousands of years, respectively. Your attitude toward those beneath you on the hierarchy is up to you, of course.