What Happened Next
So.
I left.
I packed the essentials into two suitcases - my toothbrush, some clothes, a bunch of gin, ammo, and canned peaches. I'll come back for more, later. I took my razor scooter and my suitcases and headed out the door.
Once we'd decided that I was leaving, things were relatively peaceful around the basement. There was nothing left to argue about.
Daisi insisted on coming with me. I wanted her to stay and protect Derek and Gretchen - I can take care of myself. But she insisted, and I was too tired to protest much. So we left.
What to do? Where to go? I had a number of options. I could go join up with Mr. Kotter. I could head to the mountains to see Mimi or to Canada to see G or to any of a number of other places - thanks to everyone who sent me e-mail offering shelter, I appreciate it. I could hunt the monkeys to their lair and slaughter them all.
Did you ever read Into Thin Air, by John Krakauer? It's really a terrific book. It's all about these people who climb Everest and some of them die and it's just gripping and horrifying and wonderful to read when you are safe at home in bed.
But what amazed me the most about this story was the conditions under which these people operated. They're at altitudes most airplanes don't reach, they're cold, they're hungry, they're under extreme physical stress - and there's hardly any oxygen. The less oxygen, the stupider they get, yet they're being asked to make life and death decisions under these conditions.
Sometimes, their decisions were not so good.
Other times, there was no good decision, and they were just doomed.
I sort of felt like that. So much pressure, so much upheaval, so much loss - how could I possibly make a good decision under those circumstances? Yet standing in the street, stupidly trying to decide, is also a decision - a decision to wait for the monkeys to get me. I couldn't do that.
I had to decide something. I had to choose. And what I wanted more than anything, I decided, was to be alone for a while, to consider my options, to try to regroup. I wanted some me time.
So I did what any reasonable person would have done: I went to the libary.
I left.
I packed the essentials into two suitcases - my toothbrush, some clothes, a bunch of gin, ammo, and canned peaches. I'll come back for more, later. I took my razor scooter and my suitcases and headed out the door.
Once we'd decided that I was leaving, things were relatively peaceful around the basement. There was nothing left to argue about.
Daisi insisted on coming with me. I wanted her to stay and protect Derek and Gretchen - I can take care of myself. But she insisted, and I was too tired to protest much. So we left.
What to do? Where to go? I had a number of options. I could go join up with Mr. Kotter. I could head to the mountains to see Mimi or to Canada to see G or to any of a number of other places - thanks to everyone who sent me e-mail offering shelter, I appreciate it. I could hunt the monkeys to their lair and slaughter them all.
Did you ever read Into Thin Air, by John Krakauer? It's really a terrific book. It's all about these people who climb Everest and some of them die and it's just gripping and horrifying and wonderful to read when you are safe at home in bed.
But what amazed me the most about this story was the conditions under which these people operated. They're at altitudes most airplanes don't reach, they're cold, they're hungry, they're under extreme physical stress - and there's hardly any oxygen. The less oxygen, the stupider they get, yet they're being asked to make life and death decisions under these conditions.
Sometimes, their decisions were not so good.
Other times, there was no good decision, and they were just doomed.
I sort of felt like that. So much pressure, so much upheaval, so much loss - how could I possibly make a good decision under those circumstances? Yet standing in the street, stupidly trying to decide, is also a decision - a decision to wait for the monkeys to get me. I couldn't do that.
I had to decide something. I had to choose. And what I wanted more than anything, I decided, was to be alone for a while, to consider my options, to try to regroup. I wanted some me time.
So I did what any reasonable person would have done: I went to the libary.
posted by Beth at 1:43 AM
5 Comments:
Of course! The library makes great sense; you've got internet there, reference books which might hold the key to defeating the ERMs, after all, someone had to make the first one and the library might lead you there. Plus all of those shelves will provide great cover. Good thinking.
Since libraries are really distintive, be careful about providing too many details.
I have wondered...about the libraries, and whether the ERMs find them of interest. Unless you are really sure the library is a safe haven, be on your utmost guard. You never know when you might turn the corner, only to find a gaggle of Evil Robot Monkeys poring over the trove of human knowledge, searching for more efficient ways to hunt us down.
John Krakauer may be a good writer, but a mountaineer he’s not. His assessment of what happened on Everest is debatable (given that he was stowed away safe and sound in his tent the whole time), and is nothing short of an armchair coach advising teams on the best course of action during the Super Bowl. His criticisms regarding Anatoli Boukreev are way off base, and are the equivalent of someone telling a surgeon what to do after you’ve read a first aid manual. If there’s anyone that I’d leave to the ERMs, it’s Krakauer.
Am I bitter?
Yup.
No doubt you have good reasons for your bitterness, G, but my sole point was that people make crappy decisions when their brains are oxygen-starved and they're under extreme physical stress - that in they're heavily impaired in the times when they most need to make life-and-death decisions. And that's how I was feeling a few days ago - like I needed to make critical decisions but lacked the mental clarity.
I thought Krakauer made it clear that he wasn't a witness and that there was plenty of room for different opinions. I also read the Russian guy's book and thought he sounded like an arrogant jackass.
Given that mountaineering in general is a painfully selfish endevour, I can accept your assesment of Anatoli Boukreev.
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