LIaDVp.11: Swiss among the rednecks

August 15, 2004 cont.

Today is my sister Amanda’s 29th birthday.

I’ve listened to Blood On the Tracks twice tonight and probably will listen twice more before the night is through.

Brent was here the other night. We ended up having great discussions, but ultimately hanging out with white trash and then hiding his dog from Xanterra security. My neighbor called security on us and we had to run the dog up to Stan's room, then sat in the dark whispering, "Sorry about this. This is not usual." He’s supposed to come back tomorrow, but who knows after a night like that.

Last night I went to the Trophy Room in Prospect with Stan and Dru where with met some Swiss visitors on their way to San Francisco. Jean-Pierre didn’t speak any English. He was like 6’5", had a long silver ponytail and beard and a long French nose. Dru swooned. Margerite was more talkative and fluent. We played shuffleboard and talked about Bush screwing up the world. She said roughly that, as a mother, she can’t imagine how an American mother can send her son to Iraq. She can’t imagine eating disgusting American fast food. She can’t imagine being so fat. She wasn’t being condescending or rude or snobbish like so many Americans imagine of people from other countries. She was befuddled. Honest. Confused at us and our horrible, disgusting habits. It made me ashamed. But at the same time, we were there with them in the
disgusting, fat, bigoted country - surrounded by trophies of mountain cats, baby deer and moose, rednecks shooting pool and hollering, a bar band playing Buffet and Skynyrd - and having a great time. That’s the real confusing part of America. How comfortable the redneckery was for us and them. Jean-Pierre less so, but then again, he loved dancing with Dru to "Walking the Dog."

A boat broke down on the water the other day. We had to send out a rescue boat to tow it in.

August 17, 2004

God it’s hard to figure out the days when I’m out here. I just spent like 10 minutes trying to figure out when I have to work this week. They’re really flying by now, though. Still I think when boat ops is up, I’ll head out if possible.

Went to a ranger party last night and had a pretty good time. Captain Tim and I went and played Cranium and Twister. Normally two things I wouldn’t be thrilled about, since I hate board games, but we had fun. I talked to one of the rangers for a while, and he told me he had no education related to park service work, he just volunteered for a couple of parks to get his foot in the door and has been going from park to park for about 10 years. Sounded pretty incredible. He spent his first season in a small park where he was the only person living there and he had a canoe to get around.

I was called in to work for Nan, the woman I made cry. She needed time off apparently. I was hoping she and her jerky husband had quit, but no such luck. I worked up at the ticket shack with Stefanie. Went pretty smoothly. All of the tours have been selling out in the morning because we’re running one boat short and only half the tours. The rest of the day is spent lying down on the cooler and bullshitting. Not a bad way to spend a work day. After work, I hiked Mount Scott. Beautiful hike. There’s this great feeling that I never really grasped before at the top of the mountain. It’s kind of a barren feeling, like you’re out there with nothing to hide you from the sky or the world or God. No houses, buildings or whatever to tuck under. It’s a very comfortable feeling, actually. Like, here I am, this is it, no hiding necessary. And Mt. Scott is a beautiful view. I could perch on a rock and watch the west end of the park on one end and out on the lake to the other. On the way back, I stopped at Phantom Ship Overlook and watched the sun fall behind the rim. It was like taking a Valium, watching that water ripple under the wind, that same wind in the face and watching the sun drop slowly. Sunlight still made it over the rim, casting a line of light and shadow across the higher parts of mountains near us.