So it’s been a while since we last
communicated. Suffice to say, Your
Humble Narrator has had no trouble staying occupied with stuff to do. Indeed, since arriving in the Grand Canyon in
June he has managed to scald his arm with boiling oil (much like the stuff you
see in the medieval movies; in this case the liquid was contained in a deep
fryer instead of a cauldron); had a brief affair with a female of the ‘foreign national’ persuasion (that being
the politically correct term for our foreign employees); pissed off some Food
& Beverage bigwigs by calling off a transfer to another restaurant in the
park; and unknowingly walked headlong into a herd of elk during a midnight walk from
work.
To the elk’s credit, they watched benignly as I panicked and
galloped off in the opposite direction.
If I've learned one thing during my sojourn in the GC, however, it is to
give these animals a wide berth.
Sporting deadly racks with points meant for impalation, the bulls are huge, appearing more like those Animatronic creations at Disneyland more than actual living, breathing
creatures. This being rutting season,
they are more apt to charge humans than usual.
Let one of those monsters approach with its rack lowered and see how
quickly your bowels and bladder evacuate themselves
.
When I first arrived at GC it was summer, with highs in the
90s. This was a welcome respite from the
oppressive desert heat of Vegas, were highs usually hit 100 or more on a daily
basis. Thanks to GC’s elevation
(7000+ feet) the heat is considerably tempered and rendered bearable. But GC’s elevation works against it as
well. My first few weeks here I was
constantly wheezing from the slightest exertion. I was affected by fatigue and a case of
diarrhea that stubbornly persisted. I
was told this was all ‘normal’; that it, my body was adjusting to the higher
elevation. Perhaps so; while I still get
winded (the elevation can shift by 100s of feet depending upon where you walk)
my other symptoms have vanished.
The higher elevation also means harsher winters. I’m told conditions can get very nasty during
the winter months, to the point where the park has actually been closed due to
inclement weather. I am also told the
snow turns the GC into a true winter wonderland; that is, it’s a beautiful
sight to experience. I don’t doubt
it. I also don’t doubt that I had enough
of the ‘winter wonderlands’ while growing up in the Midwest. I’m not sure if I want to willingly put
myself through snow and ice if I can avoid it.
Some people have fond winter memories of snow covered land and sipping
hot chocolate on a frosty day. YHN,
however, recalls too many moments of slipping on black ice and cracking his ass
… Or driving along on slippery streets and narrowly avoiding colliding with
oncoming traffic. Or … well, you get the
idea.
Overall, I’ve enjoyed my time here. The people are friendly, and the atmosphere is congenial overall. Most of the people I've met are very gracious and easy to get along with. I've met a number of attractive ladies, too. And there are many people here from overseas. This is one of the high points in my experience here: I've always enjoyed meeting people from other countries and learning their cultures. (I'm also curious as to their opinion of the USA and Americans in general).
That said, there is a fair share of folks who seem to be socially awkward, or lacking in the skills of simple social interaction (conversation, for example). I notice a lot persons might term geeks or nerds. To a certain degree I’m reminded of my time at the Salvation Army in North Las Vegas. While many of those fellow clients had quirks stemming from substance abuse or incarceration, they exhibited some of the misfit qualities I've noticed in certain employees in the GC. Like some of the people I encountered at SA, some of the employees here might be described as ‘characters’.
Now that term can
have a positive or negative connotation, depending on the person
referenced. In this case let’s go with
the latter def. A case in point would be
a roommate I briefly had. This guy (who
looked like a bony, nebbish Super Mario Brother) lived in Victor Hall, which is the
main dorm for men at the GC. Understand
that all new hires will share either a dorm room or an apartment at first. Only through job status or length of service
can one qualify to live in an individual dwelling like an apartment. (An example of job status would be this: A cook has higher status than a busser. When an apartment comes available, the cook
has first dibs. In terms of length of
service, well the longer you work here, the more eligible you become. Note this applies only to employees of the Xanterra Corp which runs the hotels and concessions at the behest of the US
Park Service. This is Federal land and
companies like Xanterra bid for the opportunity to run such concessions.)
Anyway, back to the nebbish Mario guy: He’s been working here for over 7 years; he
qualifies for an apartment through length of service alone. Yet he has turned down an apartment time and
again. He chooses to live in a small
dorm room and put up with the excessive noise and partying for which Victor
Hall is notorious (this building is often called ‘Victim Hall’ by the locals). Enter YHN who was sharing a flat with 5 other
guys when he first arrived. Looking for
more breathing space I decided to share the room in VH. (Bear in mind I knew nothing about Mario’s
background or rep as a nutcase) The
first thing I noticed upon entering the room was the impressive amount of trash
strewn about the place.
All types of trash:
Papers, candy and burger wrappers, empty cereal boxes, notes, pay stubs,
etc. All types of crap to wade through because
it was at least calf-high; Christ knows what was breeding underneath that mess. His bed was a mess of filthy tangled sheets,
next to which was a nightstand overwhelmed by all manner of electronic gadgets
and wiring. The set-up looked like a
fire hazard to begin with. Overall Mario
and his garbage occupied approximately three-quarters of the room space. YHN was left with just enough room for a
dresser and a bed. Thankfully, the room
had a full size closet otherwise I would have had nowhere to store my stuff.
I met my roommate who, to his credit, was quiet enough. So quiet that the most I ever said to him was
‘Hello’. I tried to initiate a
conversation but was met with a blank, wide-eyed stare so I gave up. The skinny fellow seemed nervous and twitchy
enough as it was; God forbid an attempt at common human conversation upset him –
hell, for all I knew he was another John Wayne Gacy waiting for another victim. I slept nervously the first few nights to say
the least.
Asking around, I learned of Mario’s rep as a weirdo;
apparently he says little to anyone.
Just goes about his job, keeps to himself. Fine, but he also resists any suggestion that
he clean up his act, so to speak. When I
mentioned the filthy living condition to the dorm proctor or the Housing Director, they offered
resigned sighs, rolled their eyes and said something to the effect of, “Oh
yeah, that guy. We sure have had some
problems with him.” So why not make him
shape up or demand he take single housing if he wants to live like a slob? But it seems the management is content to
regard the guy as the neighborhood eccentric and slap his wrist on
occasion. If nothing else you can
understand why no one (knowingly) wants to room with him.
After two weeks I had had enough of the freak. As if by kismet, one of my former flatmates
offered me a chance to room with him, and I jumped at it. Located in an area called Trailer Village, it’s
a really small room (in a trailer as you would expect) but does have a private
bath and shower. Better, I can actually
tolerate my roommate despite his elephantine snoring. Plus I’m within walking distance of my job,
so it works out. The only bad part is
the overabundance of deer and elk all over the damn place. The other day I opened the door and was
literally face-to-snout with one of the beasts.
Oddly, I don’t find it as charming as do other people.
More dispatches next time.
Hopefully, that won’t be a year from now(!)
