For example, the time TWA gave me a first-class seat because the flight was overbooked and sat me next to an old hippie with bad teeth and a thinning red afro. At the time I was reading Storm of Steel. He sees the book and ask why that book. So I tell him about about my still-nameless Key to all Mythologies. "Grand idea!" he says. I tell him I have writer's block and want to quit. He says, "Death to quitters. listen up," and begins making suggestions that I can barely follow. Have I considered the heinous plight of the Hereros. What about King Leopold and the Congolese carnage? What about the insidious Nazi ties and their need for rare earths to build the V-2s at Peenemunde for Von Braun. Neodymium, dysprosium, terbium, yttrium and europium. Am I familiar with the chemistry of Nazi rocket fuels? Do I know about Von Braun? Did I know he now runs a summer camp for NASA? Have I examined the math for V-2 gimbal control? All the while he scribbles formulas on our drink napkins and sketches trajectories in the air.
All I know is that trying to follow him makes my head hurt. Just as we are landing I ask what he does.
"I hunt alligators in the sewers." As we exit he leaves me with this: "Stick with it Ace or your life will be a piece of shit."
So I did. And that set me on the path. I needed to be able to organize my research so I learned to code. That meant I finally had a skill and could earn a living. That's when the Piltdown Virtual Reality Company offered me a job and I moved to Beaverton just three months before the company went belly-up. And then, just as I was to move back to LA, I go to a Sunday BBQ where I meet this girl who let me move in for the next 30 years. Try to explain that with mere coincidence.
So, when I discovered that today was the REI 25% sale, it seemed like providence.
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| Route from I-15 to Eaton Canyon |
The REI parking lot is crowded. I step past the detectors into a clamour. The aisles are mobbed. Bargains everywhere. Looks like the place is being looted. Some shelves have already been picked clean. The checkout line snakes past the backpacks. The queue is orderly, upright and lean. I stand taller.
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| Fly Creeks, Slaters, Copper Spurs and Scouts |
A green-vested REI sales specialists comes over and asks if he can help. He is tall, tan, collegiate. No doubt he has a degree from an exclusive university. His parents investment isn't wasted; this is no mere sales clerk; he's a specialist. Everyone at REI is a specialist. There are Stocking Specialists and Presentation Specialists and Tech Specialists 1 & 2. It's a very specialized place with it own symbology. Take the vests for example. The new hire vests are forest green because the Chinese dyes have not yet washed away. Lifer vests are faded and show a personal touch. The Sports-Wear Lady sports National Park and Cho Ku Rei buttons above her vest pocket. The Boot Guy has a feather dangling from his locker loop. The Backpack Guy's vest is frayed and no longer reaches around his belly.
I put the Slater back. "I am looking for a Fly Creek UL-1."
"Great Tent," says the green vest with a very approving smile. "It's very popular."
I've never trusted salesmen. Probably because our Grumpy was great shoe salesman. He knew his business; he knew people; he was always top salesman. He had a dozen Golden Shoehorns trophies on the bookcase to prove it. He won fishing trips in the Gulf and a color TV.
When we played gin, he would coach me on sales. "Number one, number two and number three... give the customer what he wants. I don't mean the shoe. I mean make them think they're Einstein. Never, let them feel like they were dumb with their money."
"How grumps?"
"Easy. Just show them something else they won't want and sell them what they wanted in the first place. Works like a champ. And when they do decide, compliment their great taste. Don't worry if it doesn't fit. Just be sure to squeeze the toe and be reassuring."
"Is that honest?"
"Trust your grumpy. If some schnook really wants a shoe, give him the shoe. Someone's getting a commission. Might as well be you." Then he would point to his temple. "Use that little noggin. God put it there for a reason."
I know now that granddad had lost his faith in humanity. He lived through harsh times. Not like these green-vested specialists. They serve a purpose higher than a commission. They are going to save the planet, rid the world of Non-GMO snacks, and live by the creed 'confront your fears.' Grumpy would not understand them. I'm not sure I do. However, if I was sure they wouldn't plant a PLC in my brain, I might want to join.
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Mt. Lyell from approach to Donahue Pass
Photo by Duane Bindschadler
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I just say, "I'm planning multi-day trips in the Sierras."
"Cool. I just got back from doing the Rae Lakes Loop. Want to see a great photo of Fin Dome?" He hands me the UL-1 and starts scrolling thru his iphone. "You'll love this tent. But have looked at the REI Quarter Dome? Great headroom. Fantastic side entry. Saves a hundred bucks. Only a couple more ounces."
"Yea. Looked at that."
The photo of Fin Dome is amazing. I thanked him for his help and headed over sleeping bags.
I walk the rack twice looking for a Sub-Kilo +20. It's hopeless. I hate looking for things. I hate golf. I see a green-vested lifer with frizzy-grey hair over by the sleeping pads. He is attending to a well-groomed middle-aged fellow with piercing eyes and pushed back sunglasses. So is a sunburned millennial couple. His head is shaved; his beard is long. Her hair is braided down the back. She has elaborate tattoos, guy wire arms and holds a new ice axe. He shoulders a sleek looking Mammut climber. I join the circle with the hope of getting help from the green vest. Sun glasses gives a nod but continues the tale."
"Just like that, it was a total frickin' whiteout. There wasn't anyway we could make it back over the Col. We were going to spend the night in Owen's Chute. We set the tent on some icy ground and crawled in our bags. Then the wind came up. It was unbelievably 'frickin' cold. I've never been so cold. That frickin' 800-fill bag and Xtherm save my butt. It was a total blast. Anyway, I'd go for the Rs, all the Rs you can buy."
The millennials exchange nods. The green vest turns to me and says, "Rs are for insulation."
"I know. Can you help me find a sub-Kilo +20?"
Miss Tattoo asks Mr. Sunglasses. "What about ice axes?"
"I'll be back." says the green vest. I follow him. Mr. Sun Glasses gives me the creeps. A minute later, I have my sub-Kilo. "What kind of pad would you recommend?"
"How much do you want to spend?
"A hundred bucks."
He hands me a Therm-a-rest ProLite. "This is our best seller. Very comfortable. Self-inflating."
"That's what I considering. Great! Thanks!" I head to the end of the checkout queue.
At the register the attractive checkout specialist in a green vest asks, "Got a big trip planned?"
"The Sierras." I say.
"How exciting!"
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Color coordinated sleeping arrangement
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My wife comes out of the house for a look. "It's color coordinated," she says.
I suppose it is.