Please Jump on the Beds

Two days in a row now I've been able to sit down at a computer to write. It's a luxury. I am broadcasting to you here tonight from the Spirit Mountain Casino and Lodge in Grand Ronde, Oregon. Seriously folks. I'm at the friggin casino.

I'm going to try to have the energy I need to write this, but I'm already exhausted... it's leaning towards my bedtime (a little earlier every night now). Soon I'll be falling asleep with the sun every day, I'm sure.

I set out from Carlton this morning, saying my goodbyes to Bobbi and Ken, having grown ever more enamoured of them after our quiet evening of eating home-made enchiladas and watching XXY. I recommend this movie. It's a foreign indie flick about a hermaphrodite, a family, a surgeon and his adolescent son, some really dumb awful boys, and some strengthening friendships. For those of you with sexual assault history, this film could prove triggering, so watch with caution, or a good cuddle buddy nearby just in case. The characters are well cast, the film is well done... all in all I'd say it's a must-see.

I did my first 16 miles in about 2 hours, and then stopped for soup, motrin, and coffee at a little cafe. I caught up with my family on the phone, and steadied myself for the next 15. I was doing pretty well! Most of the route today was gently downhill, but that didn't stop me from feeling exhausted, so when I hit a few steady inclined towards the end of my ride, I was happy that I never had to stop and catch my breath.

Riding into the mountain range... my first one on this trip... was a singular experience. It's amazing how much you miss in a car. The trees start to get closer... the backdrop of the snow and peaks starts to fade away behind tall trees. It gets a little quieter. A little darker. And then you're in! It's a different playground. So subtle but you can feel in in the air. Maybe it's a little colder, but that could just be the sun setting lower in the sky. It smells a little different. The hills feel more meaningful somehow. It's a good feeling.

I was coming down my very last hill of the day... triumphant, and sure that I was almost in Grand Ronde, when I hit construction. I was walled up between the road and a concrete divider, with only a tiny shoulder to work with. I was exhausted, and having to be so exacting wasn't helping any. I felt foolish there, and kept eyeballing the freshly paved construction zone every time I hit a gap in the divider. I wasn't sure if I should ride over there. I finally found the construction crew, and figured I would swing through, ask them if it was all right, and how much longer I would be stuck by the divider.

I didn't make it to the crew. I noticed instead, nightmare of nightmares.... my first flat tire. So sad! Right at the end of the day. I was kind of excited though, to see how well my newly acquired tire changing knowledge had stuck. Not bad! I remebered everything, but when I got to the important part.... filling the tire with air.... I had a problem. My bike pump didn't work with this kind of tire.

Curses! I was frustrated with the place that sold me the pump. Then I was frustrated with myself, because Michelle had told me a few weeks before that the pump looked wrong, but she wasn't sure... so I should get it checked out before I left. Guess what I forgot to do...? So I threw the tire back on the bike to protect my rim, and threw the tube around my neck, and hitched a ride with the construction crew (at this point they had already been by to check on me) down to the casino.

The casino. I have never in my life set foot inside of a casino. Until today. It never seemed like the kind of thing I would want to do with my time. I don't like bright lights, or losing money. I don't smoke, and I don't like sitting still for long stretches. Pulling levers makes me feel like a robot.

Evidently, this is the only hotel for miles around. There's no bike shop nearby, and I have no adapter to get air into my tire. So. I needed a room on the first floor, because my bike won't fit in the elevator. There were no first floor singles, so they offered to give me a double room for the price of a single. "You can sleep in one and jump on the other!" she offered. "Thanks!" I replied enthusiastically.

I balked at the price and was told that I could get a room for 30 dollars less if I joined the Cougar Club. The COUGAR Club. Let me just pause and giggle at being offered a spot in the Cougar Club and a discount. Am I old already?

Dear Straight or Ill-Informed Readers,

A "cougar" is a hot older lesbian.

Love, Your Friendly Queer Tour Guide.

So I put my bike in storage behind the desk, and went and joined up with the cougars. If you all ever need my gay card now... I've got it. I'm official. It's even got a rubber chain and a clip attached.

They made me pull a lever.

After settling into my room, I removed my tire yet again and set out on foot with my patch kit to the gas station. I didn't have high hopes. After fussing with the "free air" for a little while, unable to get it into the tire, not even enough to see where my leak was and get a patch on... I wandered into the station and lamely asked the clerk for help. He had no idea what to tell me. However, my guardian angel had already sent me my very own boat engineer.

This amazing older man with a feather in his trucker cap comes up and starts asking what the trouble is, like older men like to do... but this one actually had the ingenuity (his word) to solve my problem. He borrowed a roll of duct tape from the clerk, and set to work with me. We worked together effortlessly. No ego, no fuss. He asked me to do the things that his hands were to big or too old to do, and he team-worked with me through the whole project. He was pretty super cool.

We sanded my tube, set my patch, and checked the tire for glass. I had already checked.... but my engineer... he found what I had missed. A nice little shard of glass that would have given me another flat tomorrow if I hadn't plucked it out. Then the final test of our duct tape air-pump rig: getting me up to the right tire pressure. Amazing. He bounced my tire once, declared the problem solved, and set my on way way. He called me "kiddo", more than once, which I found entirely endearing.

He had the kind of hands that looked as if they had been taking apart engines and boats and bikes for a lifetime. Swollen and cracked and used. Really well lived. I said to him, when he found the glass, "Hey, you're a good sort to have around!". He giggled at that and said: "That's what all my lady-friends keep sayin'. My wife hates it!"

As we parted, I thanked him again, and said: "I'll always take help from a man with a feather in his cap", and he laughed to himself as he walked away. I never even got his name.

I caught an instant message from Bria as I left happy, with my tire in my hand. She let me know that actaully, my pump should work just fine... I just need to reverse the tube in the head. Seriously. The universe must really have wanted me to work for this one. I shouldn't have this problem again. Although I do now have a wrench handle wrapped in duct tape, just in case.

So now I'm here. Not much to say about the casino. I read the history of the tribes that were sanctioned to this land. Sad. Hard. I felt like an alien trailing the hallways, reading all the signs and looking at the museum artifacts that the casino goers don't pay much mind to. Native stories are always heartbreaking. Little triumphs over great odds, following a much greater loss.

I thought while I ate my dinner, listening to the world around me pin-balling sounds like a strange modern arcade. I thought about the people here. They don't smile much. They fit in my mind with mall-walkers and Florida retirees. A little too much exactly what they are expected to be. People who have made themselves so small, that when you smile at them, they check behind their backs for something shiny or beautiful.

I though about the land. The people the land was connected to. They were surprised that the chiefs of a people would choose to make others suffer needlessly. They had a different code of honor. They belonged to the land. The land did not belong to them.

Lastly, I thought about rape. The man usually wins. He doesn't deserve it. He's just stronger. Stronger and acting on crude impulses. Taking something that doesn't belong to him. Something that can't be taken, only used in a wrongful way. A woman's body always belongs to her, and her to it, even when it has been harmed. The same with this land. There are still some of us who feel, or choose to feel, that we belong to the land. It's just that the land we belong to is fractured, and we have so much healing to do.

Okay... Shaking it off. This place has gotten under my skin a little. Oh! But there is this great blue soap in the bathroom. It smells like blue vanilla, and the suds is blue. Little things make me happy.

Big hills tomorrow! 25 miles left to get out to the coast, but it's going to be a cold, uphill ride. Think warm thoughts for me!
I can't wait to see the ocean.

All Light,
Malcolm