Listening to One More Mouth, by Josh Ritter.
In body, I am sitting in a home. In a gated community in the city of las vegas. This house belongs to Doug. I didn't know what that meant anymore than you did until last night, approximately one hour after entering the house itself.
I met Wolfgang though couchsurfing.com, that is where i should really start this post. Although neither of us had a couch to offer, we both had thrown out messages looking for climbing partners. We have been climbing together all week and now, with Tate gone and my days win the campground disturbingly numbered by park staff, W offered up the place he was staying for the night. Wolfgang is here not only to climb, but also to play poker. Doug is someone he met through that circle.
I drove past the place about three times before noticing W standing inside. One last U-ie and I was waiting at the gates, informed that I would have to wait until another tenant left and then sneak the wagon in the out-gate. This already seemed like a great idea. The house itself was of a mold. A line of cloned terra cotta roofs. Inside, there was nothing immediately obscure about the place. I was on a bee-line for a hot shower, passing a Georgia O'keefe painting, noting the colourful cactus trim on the walls, the big screen TV and the ancient granny couches. Coming out of the washroom, I heard W saying that Doug was pissed that I was here. Drying off my hair, I naturally started to worry... I had no image in my head as to who might live here. A poker player... no womens toiletries in the washroom, owns a mustang.... I was scared.
I cleaned up my knapsack, almost ready to run for the door.
Enter Doug.
All of a sudden the decor made sense. I do not know how else I can say that. Everything made the sense. Before I could introduce myself I was introduced to Scooby Doo. " I just picked this up at the thrift store! its for my nephew.. he is going to LOVE it!" the stuffed carnival prize was waved in my face, then it started talking to me. " Do you think you can come up with a name?" Doug asks me. " Hi, I am Lauren" I respond. He was unsatisfied, more interested in the naming of this, and the foot-massaging bunny slippers he got for 5 dollars.
After showing me and W the rest of his gathered goods, he reminded us that we were driving him to the airport in an hour and we should eat all the berries and salad before they go bad.
Doug lives alone, in many places, primarily Washington and Vegas though. He values obnoxious figurines, good company and sports cars. He talks passionately about the strategy of poker in Las Vegas. It is from him that I now know where the locals hang out and which locals games are fun. He asked W to take his mustang for a few rides to keep it fresh while he was away. He told me his condo has a hot tub. It did not take him long to figure out I am very gullible but I think that is the reason he liked me so much. On the exterior he is what I see when I imagine the stereotypical American. But after meeting him I want to throw my cynicism out the window. He was a sweet man, and his heart is in the right place. He is looking for the same thing we all are, at the end of the day.
"Wolfy! This girl can stay here as long as she wants" he said as he squeezed out of the car and into the complimentary hotel he was planning to play poker at before his morning flight.
---
Its been 3 days since I wrote that one... 3 days of hard climbing. Kyla arrived on monday night at midnight, after an awesome day of placing gear and gaining height with W. As soon as KP hit down, we were reminiscing the last time we were both in Red Rocks, digging up memories of where we had been, what we had been capable of and of course... who we were with.
We stayed at W's for two more nights, making burritos and watching Twilight, then we headed back into the campground. As much fun as it was to be living in a house, camping seems to be part of the drive out here. There is something more engaging about waking up to the sun.
We will see what happens though. hah.
 |
| KP |
 |
| Wolfgang, hanging out on the vert. |
 |
| My Morning View |
 |
| My morning View |
No comments:
Post a Comment