A Vanishing Art

Brittney readied herself by the restaurant door and I clutched my Coca-Cola as another flash of lighting lit up the grey sky right above us sending a deafening “CRACK!” into my sensitive ears. She started the count down, "One, two, THREE! GO!", we both sprinted for the car through the heavy rain, the likes of which I hadn’t been in since the Islands. I scrambled to open the car door but it was too late, I was turned quickly into a sticky, sweaty mess. When we pulled into Starbucks a few blocks down I dried off with napkins from the condiment counter. We had spent the day touring around Chattanooga to viewpoints and different sights

We got back from Florida Monday night at 11:30 and we decided that we were all too tired to hang out anymore and all of us hit the sack. We had a great time but not without a little drama spattered here and there. It seems that with men, or at least this man, tact is not one of my strong points and I realized that on this trip. I think that I might of messed up couple of good friendships… “Stop feeling sorry for yourself!” is what is coming to mind right now but I’m still writing. Funny thing is that I can’t get away from hostility…I pulled over today on the highway to help a couple get there car started again with some jumper cables, but when the guy went to grab for the keys they weren’t there. He blew up at his girlfriend, who in turn, began to sob uncontrollably yelling at the boyfriend to give her her phone back, but for some reason unknown to me he had thrown it across the road into the bushes. I stood there jumper cables dangling from one hand and stunned look on my face watching this couple tear each other apart with screams of “You F***ing idiot, how could you lose the keys in 3 minutes!”. Makes you want to stop and help someone, doesn’t it? Oddly enough today I also met two teenage kids honestly running from the law who were sitting in front of a mall asking for money. One assaulted a police officer and was strangely proud of it and the other was a registered runaway. It was a real positive friendly day on the road…yup…uh huh.

I got in to Denver from Tennessee at 8:05 am. I was sweaty, tired, and sore. I met the coolest people at Southern. Two of which were Matt Turk and Reed Kraus who called me at 11:30 pm to go night climbing with them. I told them I was totally down as long as I got back at 3:00 am to make it to my Nashville Airport Shuttle leaving from Chattanooga at 3:30 am. Let just say that we climbed hard and the beautiful Full Moon that was out really influenced us to try new things on the rock.

I spent the afternoon in Denver touring the Capitol building and taking pictures. The art museum cost money and since a dinner at Taco Bell is more important to me than Rembrandt ever will be, I decided to forego the expense of looking at hanging masterpieces. For old times sake today I looked up a local magic shop and drove to it. Upon arrival I noticed that the shop was incredibly disorganized and looked more like front for drug sales especially when the young pizza eating employee asked me if I was looking for any “Special Trick” today. I walked out. I don’t think they had taken an organizing inventory in a couple of years. Oddly enough they were selling T-shirts that stated “Magic is a Vanishing Art.” What the heck ever happened to David Copperfield anyway?

The First French Fry

A cup of coffee can and always will be a great wake up for my soul. It has been and interesting trip to Florida with two girls and a guy. I don't think that I fully grasp the situation that I put myself in, but I think that a lot of men don't realize that even ten years into a marriage. I came back to Tennessee with a sunburn from a day at the beach and a creepy feeling that I got from sleeping in a cheap hotel bed that's probably been used for lots of other things besides sleeping. I got to hold a beautiful 14 month old baby girl that would put a smile on the face of even the meanest marine. I hung out with Jenna's family Saturday night and even though they were familiarly uncouth and brash at times I had a great evening with them chatting about Adventist religion from their conservative point of view.
If you can beat the humidity here in the South, this is a great place to meet girls. Many of them are looking for that chic flick romance that always ends up with the guy chasing down the girl after a bad break up to express his love for her. My story follows that path a little. I'm looking for that girl to chase down and brow beat her for not falling in love with such an awesome guy like me. Selfish and one-sided? Of Course! As much as I want to say that God has a golden-haired women out there for me, I seem to always want control. I feel that I can handle my love life. My relationships are like a McDonald's happy meal with the little toy. I find something that just satisfies me, devour all the good stuff and then fixate on one key "toy" or thing that links the two of us whether it be a good friendship, something emotional, or, god forbid, something sexual. I then tire and throw the relationship in a box and wonder why I even ate the first "french fry". Where did I go wrong. It's starts with the "me" attitude. I have never had true faith in Jesus Christ and maybe that is why I can't trust people. I'm so blind to the people around me. I just please them long enough to get what I want and then throw them away just like I have done to my Jesus. But that is the story of many, not just me.
I'm starting to realize that you can't please everyone. All my life it has been my mission to try to make everyone like me. When I was younger I would try to entertain with magic tricks. I was unfortunately no David Copperfield and that angered me. There are only so many children whom from you can hear, "I saw how you did that!", before you want to overdose on your Ritalin and call it a night in the bathtub. The trick today is trying to be the jester or the nice guy and hope that someone will notice and laugh or be appreciative. To make life more black and white, maybe I should start making coins and cards disappear again.

The last few days were pretty interesting. As one Frontier Airlines ticket agent will attest to, I almost ended up in Milwaukee, WI instead of the dirty, dirty South. The story begins after a good airport meal at Panda Wok Denver International. I was somehow strangely drawn to a wrong gate and boarded the Wisconsin bound plane with complete confidence. Luckily the ticket agent caught it before the plane departed and paged me to the front of the plane and I was once again made to look like a fool. The entire plane was watching me as I weaved my way around the tattered business man putting his brief case in the overhead bin. I came to a stop at the door way. The man said very loudly with a slight smirk, "Sir, you're on the wrong plane." The people on the front rows snickered and laughed. I cracked nervous joke, snatched my ticket like an angry lotto loser, and sauntered back into the terminal with my tail between my legs.
Lightning never used to scare as a kid, but when you see good ol' Tennessee bolts you feel that you really want to find some cover. I flew into stormy Nashville last night around 11:30 was picked up verily promptly by Brittney McClannahan an old friend from the West side of the US. It was fantastic to see her and as we threw my bags in the back of her white compact we joked about old times and how we're getting "old". I never thought that I would make it to this point in my life. A place where I'm 24, haven't graduated from college, and still looking for Mrs. Wright...er...Mrs. Right...Dang it! I can't never get that "right"! I know that it sounds like I'm saying I'm old, but when you're 18 and fresh out of high school 24 years old seems so unobtainable. When you're 24, your passed the age where it's a celebration that you have to make "important adult" decisions. For me it was once you pass the age where you can smoke and buy porn, the next age goal is 21 when you can drink, but being a Christian Adventist really doesn't promote the best conditions for becoming a social drinker like it does at public colleges. Although I did participate in "questionable activities" for a while at my quaint Adventist mecca nestled in the Walla Walla valley, I tried to keep it on the down low in order to keep my reputation as an upstanding Christian man from going down the tubes. "Two faced fence sitter" is what I usually called myself in my prayers.
Florida's nice! On a more positive note, I woke up early this morning as Jenna, a new good friend, slipped into Brittney's apartment. We we're introduced properly and before I knew it I was downing a 40 ounce smoothy from Smoothy King and was talking about life history as we speed down the highway to Ocala, FL. We got to Jenna's parents house around five o' clock and we sat around playing with the Elmo dolls belonging to Jenna's niece Payton. A great day with good conversation and new friends.

Waking up to your own car alarm is never a good way to start your day especially when you're inside the vehicle. Last night I parked my Chevy Avalanche in an upscale Boulder, CO neighborhood and slept in the back. I had a great night of sleep but when I opened the door to don my funky smelling chaco sandals and start the day my stealthy camp spot was revealed by my car horn piercing the warm Colorado air. I felt a little foolish especially when a neighbor came out, trash can in tow, smiling at me like he knew exactly what I was doing. I don't deny that I have a guilty conscience. I'm still not sure if I would like a smelly rock climber/college student camping out in his car in front of my million dollar home. Probably thought I was scoping it out to rob it... I think.
The Flatirons were calling to me this morning, I could see them from the back window of my truck. These spires rise high above Boulder and consist of conglomerate sandstone. They are all over 290 million years old. I don't understand how they know that, but there are a lot of people around here that know a lot about rocks so I believe them. I had breakfast and devotions at the trail head and started off at a good clip passing all the grandmas and the rock collecting 9 year olds. My pace was unmatchable, except, I forgot one crucial thing. I'm in the outdoor sport capital of the world and before long I had a grey-haired senior business executive in a suit...er...running shorts nipping at my heels. I tried to keep up the pace but as the trail turned into switchbacks, my lungs started to burn and my quads refused to work correctly. I stopped and let him pass and felt shameful as he hiked by barely breaking a sweet greeting me with a "Good Morning." "Shut up Grandpa!" I thought as I moved further over to miss his swinging waterbottle. I was disappointed in myself. I blamed it on the elevation and hiked off on a separate trail to the base of the first Flatiron. I stood there for sometime eating dried mangos, watching two climbers work their way up a route protecting against falls. "That is so lame", I said to myself, "I could totally free solo (no ropes or protection) up this." I checked my pride and decided that I was on a one-way trip to a shattered pelvis and I got back on the main trail. I passed twp Italian climbers who gave me an accented "Hi." and headed for the summit. I sat on top of the 290 million year old sandstone eating a Clif bar and snapping photo after photo.
The view was breathtaking as I settled down atop one of the boulders making up the summit of one of the sandstone slabs. There were a lot of climbers all over the place especially one climber whose name I do not know, but I did get know his belayer, Charlie, very well. From the hoarse cries of the guy climbing Charlie was doing everything wrong. Every two or three minutes I would hear a frantic cry, "SLACK CHARLIE! I NEED SLACK...CHARLIE!" I stuck my iPod headphones in and tuned out the disgruntled climber with 3 gymnopodies and other classical favorites. When I had all the sun that I could take, I jumped down, switched the music to Green Day, I took off down the trail. I met up with some guys that were training at one of the belay stations along the trail, I later found out that they were Marine Special Forces. The Kyle Drake in me said that the anchor setup they were using for belaying was a little sketchy. "You're holding beefy marines on the other end and your only wrapped around only one tree?", I said to myself, "You're not pulling my injured butt out of a canyon."
I raced down skipping from boulder to boulder to the sound of The Cranberries until I arrived back at the trail where I thought about free soloing. I'd never done it before. I pondered the consequences and the benefits. I started to turn back toward the main trail and then said to myself that I would regret it for awhile if I didn't indulge. I swallowed hard, took a running leap onto the rock, and scampered hand over hand up the angled slab. I started to get a little freaked out when I got a good 200 feet off the ground. As I neared the summit of the small slab I started to imagine a fall and how much it would hurt. My stupid mind screwed up my adrenaline rush and I started to question my capabilities. I kept climbing, awkwardly, until I reached the summit and hiked down the other side. I met my Special Forces friends on the trail and bragged to them that I had done a little free soloing. I needed to validate my masculinity cause I felt a little dwarfed by these muscle bound All-American bad asses.
I spent the rest of my day at Neptune Mountaineering, a multi-sport mecca of astronomical proportions. I bought a few things and made my way to the coffee shop I was at last night. I have to fight off yuppie college kids again tonight talking about the lights on my laptop. Wait...I am a yuppie college kid. Crap!

After 15 hours on the road through Southern Idaho and desolate Wyoming. I arrived later last night in Fort Collins, CO. It was midnight so I was scrambling trying to find someplace to sleep. I ended up driving way out above Ft. Collins and ended up on top of one of the hills. I pulled off oddly enough by chance at a small bouldering spot. When I get out alone I'm usually a little apprehensive to sleep in my car because it is not the usual queen bed that my home offers. I hit the sack nonetheless and tried to close those road weary eyes. I couldn't get to sleep and and at about 5:00 AM I woke up bright eyed and bushy tailed...well maybe not bushy tailed. I was so tired but I couldn't back to sleep cause the sound of morning work traffic kept keeping me awake. I jumped out, put my sandals, grabbed my rock shoes and headed out an early morning boulder session. I watched the sunrise from atop the boulders and then did a few routes and traverses. I really didn't do that well. But I didn't really care cause no one was there. I stumbled back to the car after I had gotten a little arm pump on the traverses. Morning worship was an awesome experience. The funny thing is that cyclists kept coming by and I would get quiet embarrassed because I was singing alone. I really need to get over that and be proud of my love for God.
I walked around Fort Collins and Colorado State University campus for the rest of the blustery day. I decided that I didn't need to hang around there much longer. I'd seen it all. I headed to Boulder, CO and spent the rest of the afternoon walking the outdoor shopping area that goes for about 6 or 7 blocks there. It was pretty uneventful. I bought myself a map of the Rocky Mountain National Park where I hope to conclude this road trip with a 30 mile backpack trip to see some of the mountains and scenery. I'm sitting at a little coffee shop on the University of Colorado Campus typing you this "little message". I swear this state really prides themselves on their educational meccas. The University basically founded the towns around them.