Like 99.9% of humans in the year 2016, I have a complicated relationship with my phone. I love it. I hate it. For better or worse, it is practically an appendage.So when a friend suggested we attend Camp, a phone-free creative conference resembling summer camp for adults, my answer was not an immediate yes. Despite the promise of s’mores, inspiring speakers, and yoga amidst the backdrop of beautiful Big Bear, CA, forced socialization with 200 strangers in the middle of nowhere is not exactly my speed. But due to a recent career shift, I’d pledged to spend more time outside my comfort zone. Plus, their marketing videos — campers hugging in the woods, campers hugging in a field, campers tearfully hugging upon saying goodbye — totally sold me. Everyone looked so relaxed and enlightened, kind of like Don Draper in the series finale of Mad Men. Could I feel that way, too? In this perfect storm of fate and FOMO, I decided to attend.In the week leading up to Camp, my phone and I logged many hours of quality time. The flight from New York to Los Angeles was blissfully equipped with Wi-Fi and functioned as nothing less than a digital Last Supper. I emailed, pinned, posted, and commented from my seat in the clouds.Early the next morning, 200 bleary-eyed campers boarded coach buses bound for the mountains. For three queasy hours, we wound our way to higher and higher altitudes, as our reception slowly dwindled. Terror began to set in.At the welcome ceremony, we surrendered our phones and computers — deposited into muslin sacks and locked out of sight — then headed to the field to participate in a series of ice-breaking activities. There were intricately choreographed bunk cheers and trust falls; there was staring intently into the eyes of a total stranger. In one exercise, led by a pro athlete named Frosti Fresh, we were instructed to act like a cat, then a frog, then an octopus. “You’re a cat!” Frosti yelled, while adult humans stretched their limbs and mimed licking themselves in the desert sun. “Does a cat care about Instagram? NO!” My mind immediately jumped to Grumpy Cat and her burgeoning internet empire. I kept my thoughts to myself.Despite my reluctance, here is where the magic happened. Not behaving like a cat, exactly, but the surprising feeling that accompanies being thrust into weird, uncomfortable circumstances with other humans. You have a choice: Either clam up, or let go and embrace it.The result reminded me of something I’ve come to think of as “The Ladies’ Room Effect,” which transpires when a group of women (specifically intoxicated women) gather in a public restroom. It’s a surprisingly congenial environment, where pretenses are lost and all are united by a common goal. I’m telling you, you’ve never felt such warmth and humanity than when standing in line with three other ladies who have to pee.