Tearing Up Houses: May 2011

This is the day we started out walking through Juneau and ended up in the car of an Alaska State Trooper separated by bullet proof glass.

At this point I'd like to remind you that I'm the runt of the litter.

RUNTS DO NOT SURVIVE PENITENTIARIES.

When we disembarked in the morning, I asked Andrew to pack three Zone bars, two mini boxes of Cheerios, and to forget about taking the shuttle. After sailing for eons, we were looking forward to walking five or ten miles on solid ground, first through the center of town and then on to Mendenhall Glacier for some snow caps and polar bears, preferably the kind who like Florida tourists.

Except, you know, not enough to eat them.

We didn't really know where we were going, but armed with a map and a cell phone, we headed off the boat all Into The Wild style, minus the bag of rice and facial hair and ability to urinate without porcelain.

I wanted an adventure. I had visions of us catching salmon with our bare hands and riding an iceberg back to the cruise boat wearing only ripped up tee shirts and sewn together otter hides. I mean, this is The Last Great American Frontier! It said so on the license plates.

I ignored the looks people gave us when we asked for directions, and paid no attention when they suggested we take a taxi or a tour bus to the glacier. This was our man versus nature trek through a frozen tundra of wilderness! Like, Bear Grylls. We weren't afraid of a little hike! But, um, it's REALLY FAR AWAY. Not more then a dozen miles, right? Well, probably not, but, uh. And this road takes us straight there, doesn't it? Well, pretty much. Then, what's the problem?!

It seemed like a good idea. It SEEMED like a good idea.

So. We started walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

Then we paused.

We ate some Cheerios.

Then we started walking again.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

Four thousand six hundred and ninety two miles later, all of the sudden, a state trooper pulls to the side of the road in front of us, in the middle of no where, and sort of blocks our way. Andrew was all, "He's coming for you, kid. You're in big trouble now."

And, for some reason, all I could think of was home and Miami and how you see their police department on television every other day for corruption charges and how Alaska has about a billion places to hide a dead body, which I KNOW FOR SURE, because I'd just walked past every, single one of them.

And the officer gets out of his patrol car and waves and says, "Hi there. How're you all doing? You two are in big trouble."

WONDERFUL.

Right then I blurted out, "I was the runt of the litter!"

No. Not actually. But, to be honest, I was a handcuff away from that and the offering of a Cheerio bribe.

The law can manipulate me just as easily as Dramamine.

So he tells us that we can't be walking on that stretch of the road because there are no pedestrians or bicycles allowed. at. all. ever. duh. y'all must be from, like, Florida or something.

And that's when I opened my big fat pie hole and said, "Then they should probably put up some kind of signage." And he pointed right behind me, and I thought to myself, I look like a complete and total a-hole, and now I AM GOING TO GET ARRESTED, TOO.

To take my mind off things I started thinking about my mug shot.

So then he sat us in the car, and for the first time in a week I thought I was going to toss my cookies from something other than motion sickness.

This was it.

We were on our way to The Big House. The Po Po Hut. The Alabama Slamma.

But, no, he drove us back to town, right into the center where the taxi cabs and crowds were swarming and explained that Mendenhall was at least a twenty mile drive away, but we had plenty of time if we still wanted to check it out.

Then he opened the door and let us out slowly, and as Andrew was putting his feet on the ground the officer yelled loudly, "NOW, SIR, NO MORE URINATING IN PUBLIC, UNDERSTAND?"