the wild west
My roommate, ex-roommate now, asked me when I showed up to work this morning (and by this morning, I mean noon-30. There was an unexpected amount of post-LOST partying last night that resulted in the draining of a goodly number of pints of Guinness and a deeper understanding of Wednesday's downtown nightlife (which is to say, it's fucking bizarre). I was more than capable of going in early, because I can drink about a keg of Guinness and never feell hungover (just very sleepy), but I've been taking mornings off all week; I just haven't told anyone else that) if I would take a ride with her into the foothills this evening to pick up The Dog from his dad's house. I haven't spent much time up in that neck of the woods, so I said sure.
A simple right turn from the liquor store down the block from my house put us on the long, narrow winding road that led up to the mountains. It's a narrow old state highway, that I discovered today, ends in the middle of nowhere, at a junction for two other state highways near a national park. The path to that terminus in the middle of nowhere took us through a dense, rocky pine forest. We were pretty high in elevation. There was snow on the rocky crags that jutted out onto the road. The turns were tight too, so sometimes you couldn't see what was around the bend till you got there. And it didn't help that we were headed up there in the night.
I was sufficiently creeped out. I believe that human kind and the natural world shook hands a went their separate ways a long time ago. I respect and honor nature by staying as far away from it as possible. There's just so much of it here, that sometimes I'm forced to step into her kindom, and I know she knows I don't belong there, so I try to tread lightly.
We were just outside of one small town when our highbeams shone on something on the side of the road. It was a man in a white winter coat, jumping up and down and waving his arms. We were at least five or so miles away from ...well, anything. He stepped with one foot out into our lane as we sped towards him. She slowed down, I assume just to give her more time to stop in case he jumped out in front of us, but my first reaction was to tell her "Don't stop." She swerved a bit toward the center of the road to steer clear of him, and I noticed in his right hand, he held a bag--clearly to carry the head he'd just severed. As soon as we passed him, she sped up. Part of me thought that maybe he was in trouble, that he had had an accident nearby or something of that nature, but there was no wreck, no sign of distress or danger further down the road. I don't know what he was doing up there, but I'm glad we never found out.
We arrived in a podunk mountain town to meet up with The Dog's father. They were waiting for us at a Chinese restaurant. The owner and staff spoke a charming broken English and seemed very excited to see us, but I think they would have been excited to see anyone. The food was good, especially the broccoli beef and almond chicken. We ate and made the dog exchange and then head back down to the tame valley floor. We listened to blind melon and were happy to see that creepy guy had taken his head in a bag elsewhere.
A simple right turn from the liquor store down the block from my house put us on the long, narrow winding road that led up to the mountains. It's a narrow old state highway, that I discovered today, ends in the middle of nowhere, at a junction for two other state highways near a national park. The path to that terminus in the middle of nowhere took us through a dense, rocky pine forest. We were pretty high in elevation. There was snow on the rocky crags that jutted out onto the road. The turns were tight too, so sometimes you couldn't see what was around the bend till you got there. And it didn't help that we were headed up there in the night.
I was sufficiently creeped out. I believe that human kind and the natural world shook hands a went their separate ways a long time ago. I respect and honor nature by staying as far away from it as possible. There's just so much of it here, that sometimes I'm forced to step into her kindom, and I know she knows I don't belong there, so I try to tread lightly.
We were just outside of one small town when our highbeams shone on something on the side of the road. It was a man in a white winter coat, jumping up and down and waving his arms. We were at least five or so miles away from ...well, anything. He stepped with one foot out into our lane as we sped towards him. She slowed down, I assume just to give her more time to stop in case he jumped out in front of us, but my first reaction was to tell her "Don't stop." She swerved a bit toward the center of the road to steer clear of him, and I noticed in his right hand, he held a bag--clearly to carry the head he'd just severed. As soon as we passed him, she sped up. Part of me thought that maybe he was in trouble, that he had had an accident nearby or something of that nature, but there was no wreck, no sign of distress or danger further down the road. I don't know what he was doing up there, but I'm glad we never found out.
We arrived in a podunk mountain town to meet up with The Dog's father. They were waiting for us at a Chinese restaurant. The owner and staff spoke a charming broken English and seemed very excited to see us, but I think they would have been excited to see anyone. The food was good, especially the broccoli beef and almond chicken. We ate and made the dog exchange and then head back down to the tame valley floor. We listened to blind melon and were happy to see that creepy guy had taken his head in a bag elsewhere.
2 comments:
Don't you know? The Head in a Bag is all the rage this year.
Speaking of nature... I was telling mom about how funny it would be if we went on The Amazing Race. We'd be eliminated the first round and spend the whole time either complaining about nature or holed up in some bar. But we'd make damn good tv.
Maybe he was selling honey glazed ham.
No, you're right, he wanted to chop off both of your heads so he'd have three.
For juggling practice.
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