Day 9: June 26th
Destination: Achieved
Driving Through: We’re here, baby.
I woke up with that stomach at still in the pit of my stomach, like a gallon of warm milk was gurgling in my stomach. It wasn’t a new sensation. I’ve felt it off an on throughout my life whenever I start to feel like I’m in over my head or at times when certain things have moved beyond my control and understanding and become increasingly painful.
Most recently I had experienced it for a couple of weeks straight when my best friend of four years told me she didn’t want to speak with me anymore because I had changed and offered me a cold “good luck with” my “endeavors” and signed herself out of my life. But that’s a different story, I’m not here to complain.
Over the course of my short life I’ve learned that nothing is predictable and nothing can be controlled, truly, other than your own reaction to the world around you. My major philosophy in life is personal perception. You can’t control the rain, but you can always control whether you complain about it or go play in it.
When I woke up on June 26th I felt hung over from fear, but the Frisco Edwards that frequently calls me a pussy had been up for a few hours and was already brewing his second pot of coffee. He had shaved that morning with the buck knife my brother gave me and was looking for a fight. He forced me into my slacks and button up and made me put on a tie and before I knew what was going on, I was being pushed out the door to check out and go find a job. (It turned out that he had already booked me a hotel for the next two nights at the Extended Stay for 170 a night).
When I got off the elevator and stepped into the lobby I noticed an older gentleman arguing with the front desk clerk. I walked up to the woman at the front desk and quickly checked out, but not without noticing the man first.
He was wearing a tattered and wrinkled brown suit and cheap Walmart brand dress shoes. Beneath this he had a multi colored stripped polo shirt. He was aged, but I recognized him immediately as the watermelon smashing man that I had grown up watching.
He traveled only with a case of Jim Beam that clinked when he moved. I don’t know whether he had already taken the rest of his belongings out, or if that’s all he traveled with. He was upset with the staff and was visibly angry, which made approaching him all more frightening. But I knew I’d kick my ass all day if I didn’t.
“Excuse me, sir.” I said “You’re not…Gallagher are you?” He smiled and looked up at me, setting his box down.
“I am.”
“That’s awesome. Dude, I grew up watching you, can I take a picture with you?”
“Of course, man. What’s your name.”
“Frisco.”
“Nice to meet you, Frisco,” he said and extended his hand to grasp mine.
After the pictures were taken he informed me that I should attend his show at the convention center tonight. I told him I’d be there and asked him if he thought that there were still seats left.
“Frisco,” he said “There are hundreds.” I thanked him again and walked out thinking how rough times had become for everyone.
Sitting in my truck, I realized that I had no plan for the day. My gps did nothing and I couldn’t check into my hotel until 3. It was only 9 in the morning and I had a lot of time to kill.
I considered going out and trying to find a bar tending job, and maybe things would have been a little different if I had, but I didn’t. I convinced myself that the safeway people would contact me and that’s who I’d end up working with. At the time I was still unsure about Anchorage. My first night had been horrifying, a terrible first impression and I was considering packing everything up and heading north to Fairbanks to find a job. I considered doing it that day, but I wanted to see Gallagher. Felt obligated even to give him one more ticket sale. And I couldn’t fight the feeling of it being a once in a lifetime chance, which…I’m sure it was.
Instead, I decided to see what Anchorage had to offer. I wanted to give it another chance and see whether or not it could talk me into staying.
It turned out to be very persuasive.
Parking is hard to come by in the summer. Even people that work at a particular store aren’t allowed to park in the parking lot, unless they’re management (go me). Eventually, after circling down town several times in a vehicle that DOES NOT take sharp turns and narrow roads very well, I managed to pull into a parking garage for 2 dollars an hour (which is about standing, though there are some 1 dollars, they just tend to fill up faster, for obvious reasons). I parked, locked up, and went out on the town.
The day was cool, as most days are up here, and overcast, a condition of which I’m a fan. For the first hour, I simply walked around town, marveling at how much was going on, much of it geared toward the tourists. There were bands playing, small outside markets everywhere. Hotdog vendors. Shops that sold shirts like this:
(If you can’t tell, the shirt says “I can see Russia from my house”)
And everything else that you would expect from a big (small) city. Not to mention the constant of mountains in the background, almost everywhere I turned and the coast, perpetually in front of me. I decided to walk along the beach, wishing I had not dressed for job interviews and worn jeans, but enjoying it nonetheless. Watching huge ships pull into the Cook Inlet I began to think that I might be able to consider this place home.
Finally, lunch rolled around and I found one of the many microbreweries.
Glacier Brewhouse may not have the best pizza, but their beers are amazing. I sat around and drank three with my lunch. I ordered the double stout twice because it was so good and I also sampled their Oatmeal stout, which while good, couldn’t compare to the double.
I was starting to feel better already. I went outside and stumbled into the convention center accidentally and bought tickets to Gallahger.
For the rest of the day I simply wondered. No longer worried about finding an apartment or a job, and enjoyed my time for what it was, until I checked into my hotel around 4.
The extended stay was nice. One huge king bed with a breakfast nook, and desk then a separate room with a full sized couch. I kept winding up in these rooms because I booked late. So I decided to book the next three nights in the cheapest HOTEL I could find downtown and then spent the rest of my afternoon reading and writing in my hotel until it was time to go see Gallagher.
On my way into the theater a young woman approached me and started talking to me. I don’t know how it happened, but somehow she introduced me to her two friends and told me that they had an extra ticket in the splatter zone if I wanted to join them.
I said I would.
Gallagher was exactly as I hoped he’d be: Politically charged and drastically raunchy. This wasn’t a pg-13 show. As I had hoped he told horrible, crude jokes and made the audience squeamish. The show he put on was outstanding.
I thanked my new friends and said goodbye without any real formal introductions and walked back to my hotel.
I felt good. I told myself I’d hear from Safeway on Monday and there was no need to look around for an apartment or a second job until I knew where I would be working and what the pay would be like.
My first impression of Anchorage had been wrong. While it is a dangerous city, it is no more dangerous than any other and I had tried to stay in the worst part of it on my first night. My first true day in Alaska had been a great success and it would only continue to get better. Great beer, great weather and great coincidental entertainment.
I don’t require much else…really all I need is the beer.
Tags: Alaska, Anchorage, beer, Frisco, Frisco Macae, Frisco Macae Edwards, Gallagher, June 26th 2010, Oatmeal stout, Pizza, putting up with bullshit, Smashing Watermelons, Smiling Politely, Stout, t-shirt shops, t-shirts
