Aaron Sorkin has done me in again. he does it every time I watch the last episode of Sports Night, every time i watch the first episode of Sports Night, every time I watch the episode entitled "April is the Cruelest Month" (which was the first episode of Sports Night I ever saw) and he's now done it to me twice with the season three finale of West Wing.
It's eleven years too late for what I'm about to write to be a spoiler, so I'm not too worried about ruining it for anyone else. The first time I went through this series (I didn't make it all the way through - just the first few seasons) it was with Andy, Kerry, and Scott. This episode, along with the episode where Mrs. Landingham dies, tugged at those emotional parts of me that make me question if I'm really an INTP sometimes.
The first time I watched the series I, like the character of CJ, was enamored by Mark Harmon's character, Simon Donovan. He was only on the show for a few episodes but he, like so many Aaron Sorkin characters, was likable from the start. He may even be my favorite character on the West Wing.
And then, in the series finale of Season Three, Aaron Sorkin did what he does so well - he made me break down and cry again. The backdrop of Jeff Buckley singing Leonard Cohen (one of the most beautiful voices singing a song by one of my lifetime's great poets) has become somewhat cliche in my mind but Aaron Sorkin ties it beautifully into the tragedy of Simon Donovan getting shot and killed. The song goes on while a Secret Service agent pulls CJ out of the play she's been watching to tell her that Simon is dead.
The first time I watched this episode, I hadn't just lost someone and similarly turned to Jeff Buckley singing Leonard Cohen to silhouette my own emotions. This time it hits just a little harder, even though I knew it was coming.
The other night I was going to write a post narrating all of my Thanksgivings in Skagway. I had it started in my head but hit a roadblock when suddenly, inexplicably, Thanksgiving of 2010 seemed to have been erased from my memory. Instead of going ahead with it and detailing 2008, 2009, 2011, and this year, I lost control of my emotions, broke down, and decided not to write.
I spent three Thanksgivings with Stimee - 2009, 2010, and 2011. 2009 we spent at Doug and Lindsay's house and I remember it well. In 2011 he was out of town. While I spent the day with Tekla and Katie, he spent Thanksgiving at a Hell's Angels bar in Seattle drinking beers with a guy named Slammer. But I can't remember what we did in 2010. It's like The Nothing from the Neverending Story that has consumed a lot of my emotions and actions lately has also eaten that entire memory from my brain. And I couldn't quite handle that.
It's cliche and overdone to spend Thanksgiving talking about what you're thankful for, especially during a period in your life when you're constantly reminded of all you lack. Facebook is teeming with status updates about what everyone has been thankful for as well as photos of people's feasts and festivities. On a night when I have to work and can't have thanksgiving dinner with anyone, on a day when i've been racking my brain trying to remember what I did with my dead ex-fiancee two years ago, those status updates have just served to push me farther into an abyss of not wanting to realize what I have to be grateful for.
But I took the bait. Early this morning, when I got home from the bar, I made stuffing from scratch and gravy from a packet. It was delicious. As I sat and enjoyed my own private Thanksgiving meal with the two best dogs in the world beside me, I reflected on the things that, in the midst of tragedy, I really do have to be thankful for. I, like everyone else, posted a facebook status of what I was thankful for - namely, all the people who've been supportive of me in tangible ways over the last two and a half months.
I figured I'd have five or six people to tag in that status update. Actually, I had to make several status updates since facebook only lets you tag twenty at a time. I tagged fifty-six people altogether, and certainly left out a lot more. Those were just the ones who actually did something tangible for me, which doesn't include the people whose texts, calls, and facebook messages didn't fall on deaf ears.
Later on, I found myself on one of the messageboards I frequent as a great substitute for real social interaction. Someone had started a thread demanding that we post the top ten things we're all thankful for. My list: 1. the people who've supported me the last couple months. 2. the fact that i'm alive. 3. the fact that i have a job. 4. my dog. 5. indoor heating. 6. indoor plumbing. 7. hot water heaters. 8. nicotine. 9. alcohol. 10. (i tagged a particular friend who's been particularly helpful in the healing process).
There's so much more than that to be thankful for. (I honestly can't believe that I'm posting a blog on Thanksgiving about being thankful.) I don't have a family to spend Thanksgiving with, but I'm thankful that I have a friend who brought me two heaping plates of food from her dinner. I didn't get to participate in anyone else's holiday traditions because of work, but I am beyond grateful that after so many years of trying, I have a real job. I don't have a partner to go home to at the end of the night, but I'm grateful for both the memories of the ones who were there in the past and for the people across the miles who i know are thinking about me.
I think what I'm most grateful for on this Thanksgiving day is what Aaron Sorkin evoked in me. I used to cry at movies and TV shows every time anyone got married, had a baby, died, or ended up with Mr. Right. Lately that's not so much the case. I watched the episode of Grey's Anatomy where Alex and Izzie get married - an episode which always leaves me bawling like a baby - and had no reaction whatsoever except to think how cheesy and awful it was. I don't feel like a zombie anymore, but when it comes to having emotional responses to things that I think I should have responses to, I've felt very much like a robot. I'm grateful to Aaron Sorkin for proving to me that I am still human.
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Presidential Elections in Skagway
Throughout the evening on election night I spent a lot of time reflecting on where I am during this election as opposed to where I was -- geographically, emotionally, socially, politically -- during the last election night. On the surface, it really wasn't all that different.
They served Rolling Rock at the Eagles in 2008. It was a simpler time.
This year, just as in 2008, I got dressed up to go out to the bars to watch the election coverage. Four years ago I had a short, cleavage-baring black and white dress that I'd bought in Juneau while on a trip with the high school volleyball team, who I coached at the time. I put that on with my knee-high black boots. At the time, they were my only pair of boots. Leather, with the toe of the left one chewed on a little bit by Merlin. I still have those, but I don't wear them very often anymore. I don't have the dress anymore.
This year, I wore a somewhat more formal dress. It was the bridesmaid dress I wore for Jenn and Paul's wedding - was that eight years ago or so? I also wore black boots, but this time they were my new pair, which have not been chewed by my dog. It turns out that both dresses were significant. The dress I wore four years ago was black and white. As I told people that night, the black and white represented Obama being black and about to enter the white house. This year, my dress was not all about race (why is it ALWAYS about race with you people???), and initially I thought there really wasn't much significance to it at all. It was between the burgundy bridesmaid dress and the green one I had for Andy and Kerry's wedding. Either way, they would've been significant, because of this. (<<-Click where it says "this.)
I was hopeful for a win for Obama both times. Four years ago it was a bigger deal to me. Not only had I followed more of the election at that point, but back then we had still never had a black President. The race card was just a part of it... since I had been following the race I had always been an Obama girl. He was the first politician in my lifetime to speak to my generation as if we were actually significant. He was the first one I saw on the Jon Stewart show, Saturday Night Live, and Facebook. He talked in a language that I could understand instead of using terms that I had to research to be able to follow. And I liked the things he had to say. I wanted him to win the primary, particularly against that cow Hilary. And I wanted him to win the election, particularly with that lovely Palin woman on the opposite side of the ballot.
This year, I didn't really follow the election coverage that much. Apart from Bad Lip Reading, i didn't know anything about the Republican primary candidates. I knew next to nothing about Romney. At this point in my life I'm almost entirely surrounded by people who lean toward the liberal side, so the only things I ever heard anyone saying about Romney were biased from that direction. (Eight years ago, I was surrounded by primarily Republicans. Four years ago, it was somewhat split.) I didn't know what any of the issues were on either of their platforms, apart from knowing the intrinsic differences between the left and right side. Because I lean more left these days, and because I've always been an Obama girl, I wanted Obama to win.
I sat at the Elks with my friends for a little while. I think the last time I wore the bridesmaid dress, I wore it with heels, because I don't remember it dragging on the floor and being stepped on so much. Also, i don't ever wear floor-length skirts anymore. I think I should start again, though, because I feel particularly badass when I'm playing pool in such a girly getup. Even if I am constantly tripping over myself, and even if the boning in the dress makes it hard to breathe and keeps poking me. Although it turns out I'm a better pool player when I'm getting poked. (read into that whatever you will.)
The television wasn't on at the Elks. I told Margaret and Katie both to text me when they found something out. Margaret lives in civilization where they have more access to things like important news, and Katie is a journalist, so I figured between the two of them we'd have it covered. I got messages from them both around the same time saying Obama won. With that, my entourage and I relocated to the Pizza Station.
The coverage was on the TV at the Station. Over beers and meatloaf my friends and I watched intently. There were a handful of other people at the bar and we all chatted a little about what was going on. The most interesting thing to me was that on the map of electoral votes, the states that were red or blue that had already been locked in by electoral votes were, fittingly, red or blue. The rest of the states whose votes had yet to be counted were yellow. Alaska, in that spot it always takes on US maps somewhere near Baja California, was grey. Why? Because no one gives a fuck about Alaska.
I kept thinking about how, four years ago, when the election was on, Allen and I were watching at the Eagles. It was interesting to me to be watching it this year from the Pizza Station. I felt like I should be in the Eagles watching for the magic to really work.
Some of us applauded when the electoral votes reached that clinching number. We watched Romney's concession speech. I don't know a whole lot about him (again, apart from Bad Lip Reading), but the concession speech was really nice, I thought. I mean, I know that they have people writing their speeches for them and all... and the only other concession speeches I've watched were McCain (don't remember it, was too fired up about Obama) and Gore (remember thinking his speech wasn't very good)... but all in all, Mr. Fantastic did pretty well. It got a little intense and the bartender switched the election coverage off, so we opted to go to the Eagles.
And so it was that I got to watch Obama's acceptance speech two elections in a row from the same section of the same bar in the same town. With different people. Holley and I sat and watched , holding hands. Four years ago it was Allen's hand I was holding, and I think I got the slightly better end of the stick this time.
Four years ago it was such a big deal. Either we were going to have a black president or we were going to have a female vice-president. Either way, it would be a first. (If only we knew, at the time, that the other either/or choice was either Sarah Palin is our VP or she becomes the reality show representative of Alaska...) I don't really remember much of what Obama said in the speech four years ago but I remember being inspired, not for the first time, not for the last.
This year as Holley and I sat and watched, it wasn't as historic a moment as it was four years ago. But i was struck by how many times the world has spun around since the last time he was voted in. Four years ago, the shit hadn't yet hit the fan for me since living in Skagway. I was so young, naive, inexperienced. My only priorities in life were Allen, cigarettes, and beer, in that order. I was 24, thought i was 34, and acted like I was 14.
So much has changed. It's like in four years I became an adult through all of the things I went through to get to where I am now. Before Obama got elected the first time, I didn't really care about legislation relating to domestic violence and sexual assault. Shortly afterward, when Palin quit and Parnell took over, one of Parnell's first acts of governor was to declare that he really wanted to crack down on those crimes. By that point, it had become very important to me.
Before Obama was elected the first time, I didn't really care about health care. I never thought about the future beyond the next day, so health care for the long-term wasn't really on my mind. I also had never watched a friend be medevacced out of town and have to run through the gamut of MRIs, CAT scans, spinal taps, and everything else to try and figure out what was wrong with her. I'd never had to watch my friend get stuck with bills she'd have for the rest of her life as a result.
Before Obama was elected the first time, I had no idea that the economy has been pretty miserable. I had only spent a year or so trying to find a real job at that point, and hadn't really tried very hard. I was happy with my summer job, having never spent a winter on unemployment. I felt fairly secure that once I started really trying, I'd be able to find a year-round, full-time job with benefits. I didn't realize how much I needed the stimulus fund that Obama gave me, or the extended unemployment benefits he ended up sending my way. I didn't realize at the time that I had another three and a half years ahead of me struggling to keep my head above water before finally, FINALLY getting a real job.
And, of course, the thought that kept weaseling its way into my consciousness... because some things just don't ever really leave my thoughts... Four years ago, when I came to watch the election with Allen at the Eagles, Stimee was still just a random acquaintance, another one of those people I'd run into from time to time at the grocery store, the post office, the bar... He was just another Skagway guy. I was still a good six months away from getting to know him. Yet another way I was, at the time, completely unaware of so many things about how the world works sometimes.
To that end, it was toward the close of Obama's speech that he said the words that really cut into me and brought tears to my eyes. But the tears weren't related to the fact that my guy is going to be in the White House for another four years. The tears were, once again, Stimee.
"I have always believed that hope is that stubborn thing inside us that insists, despite all the evidence to the contrary, that something better awaits us so long as we have the courage to keep reaching, to keep working, to keep fighting."
They served Rolling Rock at the Eagles in 2008. It was a simpler time.
This year, just as in 2008, I got dressed up to go out to the bars to watch the election coverage. Four years ago I had a short, cleavage-baring black and white dress that I'd bought in Juneau while on a trip with the high school volleyball team, who I coached at the time. I put that on with my knee-high black boots. At the time, they were my only pair of boots. Leather, with the toe of the left one chewed on a little bit by Merlin. I still have those, but I don't wear them very often anymore. I don't have the dress anymore.
This year, I wore a somewhat more formal dress. It was the bridesmaid dress I wore for Jenn and Paul's wedding - was that eight years ago or so? I also wore black boots, but this time they were my new pair, which have not been chewed by my dog. It turns out that both dresses were significant. The dress I wore four years ago was black and white. As I told people that night, the black and white represented Obama being black and about to enter the white house. This year, my dress was not all about race (why is it ALWAYS about race with you people???), and initially I thought there really wasn't much significance to it at all. It was between the burgundy bridesmaid dress and the green one I had for Andy and Kerry's wedding. Either way, they would've been significant, because of this. (<<-Click where it says "this.)
I was hopeful for a win for Obama both times. Four years ago it was a bigger deal to me. Not only had I followed more of the election at that point, but back then we had still never had a black President. The race card was just a part of it... since I had been following the race I had always been an Obama girl. He was the first politician in my lifetime to speak to my generation as if we were actually significant. He was the first one I saw on the Jon Stewart show, Saturday Night Live, and Facebook. He talked in a language that I could understand instead of using terms that I had to research to be able to follow. And I liked the things he had to say. I wanted him to win the primary, particularly against that cow Hilary. And I wanted him to win the election, particularly with that lovely Palin woman on the opposite side of the ballot.
This year, I didn't really follow the election coverage that much. Apart from Bad Lip Reading, i didn't know anything about the Republican primary candidates. I knew next to nothing about Romney. At this point in my life I'm almost entirely surrounded by people who lean toward the liberal side, so the only things I ever heard anyone saying about Romney were biased from that direction. (Eight years ago, I was surrounded by primarily Republicans. Four years ago, it was somewhat split.) I didn't know what any of the issues were on either of their platforms, apart from knowing the intrinsic differences between the left and right side. Because I lean more left these days, and because I've always been an Obama girl, I wanted Obama to win.
I sat at the Elks with my friends for a little while. I think the last time I wore the bridesmaid dress, I wore it with heels, because I don't remember it dragging on the floor and being stepped on so much. Also, i don't ever wear floor-length skirts anymore. I think I should start again, though, because I feel particularly badass when I'm playing pool in such a girly getup. Even if I am constantly tripping over myself, and even if the boning in the dress makes it hard to breathe and keeps poking me. Although it turns out I'm a better pool player when I'm getting poked. (read into that whatever you will.)
The television wasn't on at the Elks. I told Margaret and Katie both to text me when they found something out. Margaret lives in civilization where they have more access to things like important news, and Katie is a journalist, so I figured between the two of them we'd have it covered. I got messages from them both around the same time saying Obama won. With that, my entourage and I relocated to the Pizza Station.
The coverage was on the TV at the Station. Over beers and meatloaf my friends and I watched intently. There were a handful of other people at the bar and we all chatted a little about what was going on. The most interesting thing to me was that on the map of electoral votes, the states that were red or blue that had already been locked in by electoral votes were, fittingly, red or blue. The rest of the states whose votes had yet to be counted were yellow. Alaska, in that spot it always takes on US maps somewhere near Baja California, was grey. Why? Because no one gives a fuck about Alaska.
I kept thinking about how, four years ago, when the election was on, Allen and I were watching at the Eagles. It was interesting to me to be watching it this year from the Pizza Station. I felt like I should be in the Eagles watching for the magic to really work.
Some of us applauded when the electoral votes reached that clinching number. We watched Romney's concession speech. I don't know a whole lot about him (again, apart from Bad Lip Reading), but the concession speech was really nice, I thought. I mean, I know that they have people writing their speeches for them and all... and the only other concession speeches I've watched were McCain (don't remember it, was too fired up about Obama) and Gore (remember thinking his speech wasn't very good)... but all in all, Mr. Fantastic did pretty well. It got a little intense and the bartender switched the election coverage off, so we opted to go to the Eagles.
And so it was that I got to watch Obama's acceptance speech two elections in a row from the same section of the same bar in the same town. With different people. Holley and I sat and watched , holding hands. Four years ago it was Allen's hand I was holding, and I think I got the slightly better end of the stick this time.
Four years ago it was such a big deal. Either we were going to have a black president or we were going to have a female vice-president. Either way, it would be a first. (If only we knew, at the time, that the other either/or choice was either Sarah Palin is our VP or she becomes the reality show representative of Alaska...) I don't really remember much of what Obama said in the speech four years ago but I remember being inspired, not for the first time, not for the last.
This year as Holley and I sat and watched, it wasn't as historic a moment as it was four years ago. But i was struck by how many times the world has spun around since the last time he was voted in. Four years ago, the shit hadn't yet hit the fan for me since living in Skagway. I was so young, naive, inexperienced. My only priorities in life were Allen, cigarettes, and beer, in that order. I was 24, thought i was 34, and acted like I was 14.
So much has changed. It's like in four years I became an adult through all of the things I went through to get to where I am now. Before Obama got elected the first time, I didn't really care about legislation relating to domestic violence and sexual assault. Shortly afterward, when Palin quit and Parnell took over, one of Parnell's first acts of governor was to declare that he really wanted to crack down on those crimes. By that point, it had become very important to me.
Before Obama was elected the first time, I didn't really care about health care. I never thought about the future beyond the next day, so health care for the long-term wasn't really on my mind. I also had never watched a friend be medevacced out of town and have to run through the gamut of MRIs, CAT scans, spinal taps, and everything else to try and figure out what was wrong with her. I'd never had to watch my friend get stuck with bills she'd have for the rest of her life as a result.
Before Obama was elected the first time, I had no idea that the economy has been pretty miserable. I had only spent a year or so trying to find a real job at that point, and hadn't really tried very hard. I was happy with my summer job, having never spent a winter on unemployment. I felt fairly secure that once I started really trying, I'd be able to find a year-round, full-time job with benefits. I didn't realize how much I needed the stimulus fund that Obama gave me, or the extended unemployment benefits he ended up sending my way. I didn't realize at the time that I had another three and a half years ahead of me struggling to keep my head above water before finally, FINALLY getting a real job.
And, of course, the thought that kept weaseling its way into my consciousness... because some things just don't ever really leave my thoughts... Four years ago, when I came to watch the election with Allen at the Eagles, Stimee was still just a random acquaintance, another one of those people I'd run into from time to time at the grocery store, the post office, the bar... He was just another Skagway guy. I was still a good six months away from getting to know him. Yet another way I was, at the time, completely unaware of so many things about how the world works sometimes.
To that end, it was toward the close of Obama's speech that he said the words that really cut into me and brought tears to my eyes. But the tears weren't related to the fact that my guy is going to be in the White House for another four years. The tears were, once again, Stimee.
"I have always believed that hope is that stubborn thing inside us that insists, despite all the evidence to the contrary, that something better awaits us so long as we have the courage to keep reaching, to keep working, to keep fighting."
Saturday, November 3, 2012
Winter Sports In Skagway (or Why My Whole Body Is Sore)
The snow started on October 30th - Tuesday - four days ago. You may recall (if you've read any of my other blog posts, which is a narcissistic assumption) that I wrote a post about the first snow happening in Skagway already. That was kind of a teaser. (The snow, I mean, not the blog post.) In case any of my readership is from one of those places that doesn't really get snow (again, assuming i have readership, narcissism yadda yadda yadda), I'm going to explain some winter premises really quick. If, like me, you grew up in a state that gets dumped on every year, feel free to skip ahead to the next chapter.
When the first snow happens it usually doesn't accumulate on the ground. That comes a little later.
OK, i guess that was all. I really was envisioning some grand tangent about the science of snow and why it doesn't stick to the ground right away but I actually don't know anything about that topic so I'd almost certainly have people like my brother and other smartasses who know things about stuff point out the error of my ways and make me look like an idiot (assuming I don't already).
And now, on with the show. If you're just joining us, we've covered absolutely nothing so far.
The snow started on Tuesday. I normally have Monday and Tuesday off, but due to a stabbing that happened a few months ago (read the whole story written by Katie Emmets here) one of the dispatchers had to go testify in Juneau so I had to work Tuesday. I did at least get Monday off, but being that it was my only day off I started early and was out at least somewhat late.
Being that I work nights I also generally sleep late. So, Tuesday, I slept late. The multiple times I woke up before deciding to emerge from my sleep chamber I was completely unaware that outside me the entire world was turning to white as the entire town around me got blanketed with glittering crystals of snow. If i would have known that, I'd have gotten up earlier.
Anyway, the first tip-off that there was actually any snow outside wasn't looking out my window (because why would i look out my window?); it was looking at facebook. i saw the aforementioned Lady Emmets post a photo of her gentleman friend Lord James wearing a snowsuit in the snow and realized that there must be snow outside or else they just went on a really quick vacation somewhere farther north.
I spent a little bit of time out in it before going to work, but not much. The fun was to start later.
I watched it snow outside my window at work for eight torturous hours. Normally at work I stay inside and smoke my e-cigarette for nicotine fixes, but that night I went outside to smoke real ones so that I could be in the snow. It just kept building and building. By the time I went to work, by the by, there was so much snow that my non-4-wheel-drive-but-still-fucking-awesome Astro van got stuck in the driveway. I was going to turn into the parking spots but my van got stuck, so I just let it sit where it was. When i got off work, it didn't want to move, so I was content to let it be. Another great thing about Skagway - no matter where I am in town, I'm at MOST a mile away from home.
So I ended up at the Station ("and I was like PIZZA STATION!!??!") for beers after work, which has now become my routine. The Station is generally the last bar to close at night. Although my favorite bar in town is the Elks, it's very rare that it's actually open when I get off at midnight. So the Station is where I end up most nights, to have beers and play pool.
Now that it's winter, when you walk into the Station you know everyone who's in there for the most part. I say "for the most part" because last night I beat some guy at pool that I'd never met before and I guess he just got to town. So it happens. But mostly, it's full of the regulars. And by regular I mean regular people that you see around town all the time, not "regular" as in "everyday", "average", "normal," "commonplace" - because most of them are none of those things.
I'm trying to remember who actually started the snowball fight but I can't quite place how it got going. A bunch of us were playing pool together. I can't quite remember how that went but I can only assume I was winning 100% of the time. We all had the same smoke break schedule so at some point in the night there we were, six or eight of us, out smoking, and suddenly the patio became an obstacle course.
It was fucking brilliant. And beautiful. And marvelous. most of us didn't have gloves on, which makes us hardcore, not stupid. We spread out a little bit, each person finding some kind of corner to hide in or obstacle to protect us against the onslaught coming from all angles. There were no teams - it was every man for himself. My personal strategy was to build my arsenal so I didn't have to waste time forming snowballs while in the throes of an all-out attack. It worked alright but I think I got hit just as much as anyone else.
Once it was on, it was just on. Every time anyone went outside, it was back on. Just because someone went inside didn't mean it was off. Snow was flying everywhere and I know I'm not the only one who fell ass-over-teakettle in the snow as a result of trying to evade getting hit. I'm one of the most competitive people I know, if not the most, and it really started to irritate me if someone got me and I couldn't hit them back. Erik was particularly good at this because of the fact that he would go outside the patio and stand farther away than anyone else. Although I am competitive I also throw like a girl and, while he was pretty accurate at that range, I just could NOT get my snowballs to reach him. (I'm fairly certain I did end up getting him back at least once or twice when he would come back toward the rest of us.)
The next day, my entire body was sore. Not only were my arms and shoulders and upper back hurting from the actual throwing, but the rest of my body hurt from falling over in the snow so much. Actually, I take that back. The pain in the rest of my body was more likely from those great acrobatic gymnastics moves we all find ourselves performing when it's slick outside (whether or not aerial snow missiles are being projected at us) to avoid slipping and falling. You know exactly the moves I'm talking about - where you end up pulling some muscle or joint way out of whack in an attempt to NOT look stupid by falling over, to the realization that you actually looked stupider doing the move.
The pain didn't stop more snowball fights from happening, though. It's important to say at this point that it was still snowing, 36 hours later or so. It hadn't stopped accumulating. Not only was there another series of snowball fights on Wednesday night at the station, I found myself in a full-contact one-on-one match that knocked me down on the ground more times than I'd care to count. No pain, no gain.
The next day, I walked to my car with my faithful canine companion in hopes of getting it out of its makeshift parking hole in the snow. By this point it had stopped snowing, but my badass Astro was still stuck. I spent a lot of time shoveling the tires out and shoveling out two tracks for me to back it out to the street on, to no avail. However, I did learn at this point that my snowball arm is the same as my shoveling arm. I had to stop more times than I'd like to admit just to catch my breath because I smoke too much and my arms and back were sore. And after all that work, it still took Dirk coming down and pushing me out to actually have a successful afternoon.
Skagway in the winter is just great. You know, some people ski and snowshoe to get their exercise in the winter and I myself do enjoy a good snowshoeing adventure (watch this space for coverage) but I would like to inform y ou all that I actively support the winter fitness regimen of full-contact snowball fights and getting your van stuck at the police department. My entire body STILL hurts, and i think that means it's working. Thank God for two small miracles: Number One, Brittney is giving me a massage tomorrow. Number Two, hot springs outside of Whitehorse.
I'd like to have some poignant end to this but I don't. It's fun to have snowball fights, end of story.
When the first snow happens it usually doesn't accumulate on the ground. That comes a little later.
OK, i guess that was all. I really was envisioning some grand tangent about the science of snow and why it doesn't stick to the ground right away but I actually don't know anything about that topic so I'd almost certainly have people like my brother and other smartasses who know things about stuff point out the error of my ways and make me look like an idiot (assuming I don't already).
And now, on with the show. If you're just joining us, we've covered absolutely nothing so far.
The snow started on Tuesday. I normally have Monday and Tuesday off, but due to a stabbing that happened a few months ago (read the whole story written by Katie Emmets here) one of the dispatchers had to go testify in Juneau so I had to work Tuesday. I did at least get Monday off, but being that it was my only day off I started early and was out at least somewhat late.
Being that I work nights I also generally sleep late. So, Tuesday, I slept late. The multiple times I woke up before deciding to emerge from my sleep chamber I was completely unaware that outside me the entire world was turning to white as the entire town around me got blanketed with glittering crystals of snow. If i would have known that, I'd have gotten up earlier.
Anyway, the first tip-off that there was actually any snow outside wasn't looking out my window (because why would i look out my window?); it was looking at facebook. i saw the aforementioned Lady Emmets post a photo of her gentleman friend Lord James wearing a snowsuit in the snow and realized that there must be snow outside or else they just went on a really quick vacation somewhere farther north.
I spent a little bit of time out in it before going to work, but not much. The fun was to start later.
I watched it snow outside my window at work for eight torturous hours. Normally at work I stay inside and smoke my e-cigarette for nicotine fixes, but that night I went outside to smoke real ones so that I could be in the snow. It just kept building and building. By the time I went to work, by the by, there was so much snow that my non-4-wheel-drive-but-still-fucking-awesome Astro van got stuck in the driveway. I was going to turn into the parking spots but my van got stuck, so I just let it sit where it was. When i got off work, it didn't want to move, so I was content to let it be. Another great thing about Skagway - no matter where I am in town, I'm at MOST a mile away from home.
So I ended up at the Station ("and I was like PIZZA STATION!!??!") for beers after work, which has now become my routine. The Station is generally the last bar to close at night. Although my favorite bar in town is the Elks, it's very rare that it's actually open when I get off at midnight. So the Station is where I end up most nights, to have beers and play pool.
Now that it's winter, when you walk into the Station you know everyone who's in there for the most part. I say "for the most part" because last night I beat some guy at pool that I'd never met before and I guess he just got to town. So it happens. But mostly, it's full of the regulars. And by regular I mean regular people that you see around town all the time, not "regular" as in "everyday", "average", "normal," "commonplace" - because most of them are none of those things.
I'm trying to remember who actually started the snowball fight but I can't quite place how it got going. A bunch of us were playing pool together. I can't quite remember how that went but I can only assume I was winning 100% of the time. We all had the same smoke break schedule so at some point in the night there we were, six or eight of us, out smoking, and suddenly the patio became an obstacle course.
It was fucking brilliant. And beautiful. And marvelous. most of us didn't have gloves on, which makes us hardcore, not stupid. We spread out a little bit, each person finding some kind of corner to hide in or obstacle to protect us against the onslaught coming from all angles. There were no teams - it was every man for himself. My personal strategy was to build my arsenal so I didn't have to waste time forming snowballs while in the throes of an all-out attack. It worked alright but I think I got hit just as much as anyone else.
Once it was on, it was just on. Every time anyone went outside, it was back on. Just because someone went inside didn't mean it was off. Snow was flying everywhere and I know I'm not the only one who fell ass-over-teakettle in the snow as a result of trying to evade getting hit. I'm one of the most competitive people I know, if not the most, and it really started to irritate me if someone got me and I couldn't hit them back. Erik was particularly good at this because of the fact that he would go outside the patio and stand farther away than anyone else. Although I am competitive I also throw like a girl and, while he was pretty accurate at that range, I just could NOT get my snowballs to reach him. (I'm fairly certain I did end up getting him back at least once or twice when he would come back toward the rest of us.)
The next day, my entire body was sore. Not only were my arms and shoulders and upper back hurting from the actual throwing, but the rest of my body hurt from falling over in the snow so much. Actually, I take that back. The pain in the rest of my body was more likely from those great acrobatic gymnastics moves we all find ourselves performing when it's slick outside (whether or not aerial snow missiles are being projected at us) to avoid slipping and falling. You know exactly the moves I'm talking about - where you end up pulling some muscle or joint way out of whack in an attempt to NOT look stupid by falling over, to the realization that you actually looked stupider doing the move.
The pain didn't stop more snowball fights from happening, though. It's important to say at this point that it was still snowing, 36 hours later or so. It hadn't stopped accumulating. Not only was there another series of snowball fights on Wednesday night at the station, I found myself in a full-contact one-on-one match that knocked me down on the ground more times than I'd care to count. No pain, no gain.
The next day, I walked to my car with my faithful canine companion in hopes of getting it out of its makeshift parking hole in the snow. By this point it had stopped snowing, but my badass Astro was still stuck. I spent a lot of time shoveling the tires out and shoveling out two tracks for me to back it out to the street on, to no avail. However, I did learn at this point that my snowball arm is the same as my shoveling arm. I had to stop more times than I'd like to admit just to catch my breath because I smoke too much and my arms and back were sore. And after all that work, it still took Dirk coming down and pushing me out to actually have a successful afternoon.
Skagway in the winter is just great. You know, some people ski and snowshoe to get their exercise in the winter and I myself do enjoy a good snowshoeing adventure (watch this space for coverage) but I would like to inform y ou all that I actively support the winter fitness regimen of full-contact snowball fights and getting your van stuck at the police department. My entire body STILL hurts, and i think that means it's working. Thank God for two small miracles: Number One, Brittney is giving me a massage tomorrow. Number Two, hot springs outside of Whitehorse.
I'd like to have some poignant end to this but I don't. It's fun to have snowball fights, end of story.
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