Below, you'll find a post I wrote a few days ago. I took it down mere seconds after it went up, because the guys mentioned in the story were still at the house, and Kate thought there'd be a meltdown if they read it and were still here. I agreed.
But I agreed not necessarily because I feared a meltdown. More than anything, I didn't feel like it told the whole truth. Basically, I wrote it feeling a certain way at a specific period of time. I actually really enjoyed having the company, although I think it stressed Kate out to have the house taken over by climbing bums (not to mention the Japanese, which I'll probably talk about later). I'm trying to learn from the Greece mess with my family that when there is an emotion from a specific period of time, it better be put in context or there will be blood. "Drainage!"
For background, I was in Rifle the last two weekends trying to finish up "Extended Family" and just generally enjoying the abject SCENE that the place has become. At any moment, you'll see a full blown Mexican fiesta (complete with music, a bonfire, chupacabra...the works), some roughneck drive his pickup into the creek, face craned up towards the Project wall in wonder at "how'd dem get up der?," and maybe even a rock climber now and then. It's a wonderland.
During these trips to said wonderland, I've gotten to know a couple of young men aspiring to clip chains AND go to medical school. Now that, my friend, is Audacity of Hope.
These two guys are named Peter and Thomas. Peter is a scruffy, bespectacled gentleman, and Thomas is now known as "He-Man" because of his Aryan good looks, brawn, and once flowing blond hair. The three of us have gotten along well, and as I was heading home from Rifle this weekend, I offered both of them a ride back to Boulder. Their flights were leaving this week, and they were each car-less. Peter had a friend in Boulder, so I assumed I'd just be giving them a ride.
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Ok, several things are going on right now.
I am in the office, and in an effort to maintain complete and total transparency with my readers, I'll strongly advise against a career as a division order analyst. "What the hell is that?" I hear the throngs croon in unison. Basically, its the worst job in the world, whereby you are stuck reading spreadsheets and computing payouts for oil wells to the eighth decimal place. If you like a world that looks like the computer screen in The Matrix, then feel free to apply for a job. Me? I think that screen sucked. But somehow, (likely because God is a heartless bastard) my boss occasionally gets some contract work auditing division orders, and the Sisyphean work of number crunching falls upon my shoulders. At least it would, if I weren't too busy writing in a blog.
Also, I am happily digesting a Vicco's Charcoalburger (everything, with pepper jack) and a chocolate shake as a reward for finally sending Extended Family. Its a long story filled with 30 foot falls within spitting distance of the chains, but I'll spare you the tears and suffice things by saying I finally started using the good holds at the crux instead of the crap. Amazing what habit and hypoxia will do to a man in mid crux.
And in a related story, on my way back from Rifle, I filled Abigale the Subaru with two scruffy southerners and their stuff. These were guys I had met the week before, and they needed to get back to the Front Range to catch their flight. Here, however, is where my interpretation of the situation diverges from fact. I had assumed that "Thing one and Thing two," as Katie dubbed them, had another place to stay. In fact, they have become my new roommates.
I have spent enough time living out of a backpack to recognize a man in need of a couch when I see one. Problems start when that same man in need, the one borrowing your couch, soap, and food, and needing to be driven around Boulder, doesn't see the world for what it is. The truth of his predicament is that he needs to be thankful, appreciative, and clean, or he risks exhausting the generosity upon which he survives. Especially when there is a girlfriend involved who REALLY didn't know she was about to have company for a week.
For the last couple of days, Thing one and Thing two have been hanging around, but wearing their welcome paper thin. I don't want to have to ask them to wash their dishes, I don't want to have to ask for gas money (again), and I sure don't want them inviting themselves on a date with Kate and me. When I left for work today, I was pulling my hair out in an effort to expedite the process of their departure.
But then my phone rang. Thing two called to ask if I needed anything from the grocery store. He asked what kind of beer I liked, as he was going to the liquor store. He asked if it would be an imposition to use the kitchen to cook dinner tonight so that Kate and I could have some alone time on a date. Wow!
My mood immediately changed. I had been dwelling on an effective strategy for fooling them into taking a drive with all their stuff in the trunk but then throwing them out at the youth hostel. Now, I was feeling like a gracious host. It reminded me of an important lesson. If you're gonna step on people's toes, offer to hook them up in return. Example: if you're gonna make your employee's eyes fall out from looking at division orders, pay them regally, and if you need weeks upon weeks to work on a rock climb, pay back those belay sessions with beer and a back rub now and then. Its only fair.
# # #
So really, I was bummed out for a bit and vented in a post. If I'd have left it up there, I think everyone would read the post and think, "man, I bet he never sees those dudes again." I really would like to catch up with them, though. Except next time, maybe on THEIR couch.
1 comment:
Chupacabra... heh.
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