Part 16

"We came here to spend time in Whiteclay, not to go there for five minutes and try to avoid people"
Dan

It was a warm afternoon, and a soft night. A month ago now, still much more pleasant than it is today. None of us really slept right for the whole trip, and we were all strangely tired for mid-afternoon, needed time to reflate. We were going to Whiteclay that night, it was decided. We would drink with the people there and, who knows what else? Find out their reasons maybe? Anybody who has ever realized how unimportant he/she is knows the reasons. same reason you're getting drunk tonight. Find out how they got along with the Rushvillans, the liquor store owners, whites in general? Not bloody likely. Why would we want to know anyway? You crazy white boys look like trouble. There were tribal officials and historians, people who hadn't surrendered, who we could have gone to for that information. But we never made any attempt to talk to them, we would talk to the broken ones and share in their vice. We were just Wisicus out rubbernecking, and it was clear that this was all we were just from the sight of us. What we would learn is what happens to people who spend their time with nothing but their regret and their deaths, and each other.

I tried to catch up on homework, Science of food, bitch of a class. The textbook came back from the trip looking like a dalmatian. It will always be mine now.

We put the TV on Animal Planet. Education was being crammed into a commercial-friendly top-ten list. Most pirate-like animals, at number one were ants who enslaved the young of other ants. Praise God and his delicate creation.

A Steve Irwin rerun came on next. He played his usual game, abusing snakes and komodo dragons, manhandling elephants, terrorizing locals. Dan was mesmerized. He had never seen the man at work before. This was shocking to me. There are a tiny handful of things that one needs to know about mainstream culture, and Steve Irwin is one of them. My God man, don't you watch TV at the folks house over Christmas?

Night came, I put away my homework and started scribbling notes of the trip so far on the yellow legal pad I bought. I asked Becky to write about her experience with Mark. She gave me back a page-and-a-half of sheep wool. Her account posted here comes via MySpace. I suggested that she should drink the Hurricane that had been reserved for her the night before and she agreed. No problem, we wouldn't be drinking that much up there. We'd only be there for a little while, have a conversation or two, certainly not drink to much to drive. Let your hair hang low.

It was around 9:30. Time now. We were excited, We were giddy We were doing this.
We got in the clown car and I popped Night at The Opera in the CD player. "Death on Two Legs" is an excellent driving song. Through town and out of it, right on 87.

It was just a jaunt.