My worst nightmare has come true. I have been accused of the one thing on Earth I never thought I would be accused of, the one thing I have I have fought with every ounce of my being to eradicate from my soul. I’ve worn deodorant every day for five years, never owned a Nalgene bottle, and crinkled my nose every time I’ve heard the word “tofu.” But none of it matters, because it’s happened: People think I’m a hippie.
It all started with Phil’s slackline. Before coming to Alaska, I had never slacklined and didn’t have much desire to try. I considered it something reserved for granola, hemp-loving assholes in the quad and people who consistently complained about the constraints of “society.” But as it turns out, slacklining is awesome. And not even that hard.
But people think I’m a hippie.
This might, of course, also have something to do with the fact that I don’t really drink up here, I always want to go on walks, and I’m often barefoot. I don’t want to have to explain myself but I want people to know: I abhor hippies! There’s no people Earth I despise more! I wear deodorant! But no one understands. People see you on a slackline, they see you barefoot, and they think you’re a hippie.
Which is why I’ve decided to take evasive action.
From now on, no more drinking out of water bottles. Instead, I’m going to buy styrofoam cups in bulk at Fred Meyer and throw them on the ground after each use. I’ll stop eating vegetable in favor of all meat affairs: Bacon and sausage for breakfast, chicken for lunch, and beef for dinner. I’ll make politically incorrect jokes and laugh at people with disabilities. I’ll do my best to try and forget that there’s things going on like genocide in Darfur and sweatshops in Bangladesh. If at all possible, I’ll go whaling.
And most importantly, I’ll stop slacklining. I love slacklining, it’s one of my favorite things to in the long Alaskan evenings — balancing between two birch trees in the warm crepuscule — but now I’ll have to quit. It doesn’t matter that it’s fun and it builds strength in your legs and it’s great for your balance and people think you’re badass when you can easily jump on and walk the whole thing when others can’t even take a step — I have to stop. Because what’s more important? A small physical diversion, or a set of ideals? And what if slacklining is just the tip of the iceberg? What if by the time I get back to Seattle I’m hanging out in parks playing kickball and listening to Rusted Root?
You can keep your slackline hippies. I don’t know what I’ll do, but I’ll figure something out. Maybe I’ll take up moose hunting. This is Alaska, after all.
This entry was written by , posted on June 26, 2009 at 8:28 pm, filed under Alaska and tagged cherry blossoms, cooper landing, drumheller, slacklining, the quad, uw. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.