Travels: Boise (Day One)

Day One of Boise started with a shower in Stone's basement bathroom. The shower was one of those stand-up jobs. I am what you might call "pocket-sized," and yet I still had a hard time maneuvering in this be-spouted shoebox. (When it came time for RJP4's turn there was only the sounds of muffled thuds and curses.) I also encountered a spider of some significance legging it under the door when I got out. I mentioned this to Stone. His response: "Yeah. We've got spiders here." It was implicit that "here" referred to Idaho. If we had driven to Idaho instead of flown we would have passed the massive welcome sign reading "IDAHO: Yeah. We've got spiders here."

For breakfast we decided to walk down to Elmer's--a diner-type place that Stone had talked up quite a bit. On the way we passed one of Boise's many irrigation sluices. It looked very much like a river, and Stone explained that some people do, in fact, swim in them. Apparently a fun thing that the children do is allow themselves to be sucked into one of the pipes and be propelled out the other side. Problem: sometimes there are grates on the other side. Again we see the invisible hand of Darwin plucking, in this instance, the chaff from the wheat.

Elmer's really was delightful. I got the best steak and eggs I've ever had there--and the hash browns were all mixed up with some peppers and onions. Very good. I also bought a copy of the Idaho Statesman from a machine outside. RJP4 and I compared it to the Scranton Times-Tribune we brought with us (RJP4 explaining his daily purchase of the Times: "It has two crossword puzzles."). Some notes: The Times had the following headline, "ANIMALS: Now We Know Better." The Statesman had excellent pictures--but all of its political articles were from either the AP of LA Times. The OpEd page had a prominently featured letter about tipping buffet waitresses. But then again, as stated, the Times had an article about us not understanding animals. Point, Scranton.

After Elmer's we crossed the road to Boise State University. All bicycles and pleasant people. Stone had to go to some kind of Theatre Person class where I assume they show you how to pretend to be a tree or paint yourself silver and stand still (the finer arts are lost on me). RJP4 and I walked over the "Friendship Bridge." The idea behind the friendship bridge is that if you walk across it with someone you will be friends forever. This is a silly thing, and even the attempt deserves our contempt and derision. I compell all of you to fly to Boise and openly urinate on this abomination. I'm a little worried that because RJP4 and I crossed it together that we are now gay married.

All my cranky cynicism melted away, however, because almost immediately after crossing the Friendship Bridge I saw a giraffe. You'd be surprised what wonders a completely unexpected giraffe can do. If only Hitler had, upon crossing the Rhine, stumbled across the legendary Meandering Giraffe of Gaul we might not all be comparing various American presidents to him completely outside of any historical context. ...I think things got away from me a bit. Anyway, the giraffes were peering over the fences from the zoo in the park across from Boise State. I found myself wondering--as we all do--if it were possible to put a saddle on one and ride it. And if so, what would be the top speed? What kind of obstacles would be neccessary to stop a giraffe cavalry? But the magic quickly disappated when I realized that the ground we were walking on was covered in geese. And their leavings.

While Stone was in class our wanderings were uneventful. We saw Boise State's Taco Bell Arena. I was almost tempted into free chili. We were loudly instructed to vote by a man wearing a homemade t-shirt proclaiming "TALK TO ME." We haughtily regarded an enormous drawing of a snail that was mislabelled as a slug. A few guffaws, upturned-noses, and East Coast elitisms later and we were reunited with our now more erudite travelling guide. And thus we ventured...downtown!

Here is where my remembering becomes fuzzy. Fuzzier. So bear with me. Bare? The following things occurred in some order on that day:

We went to what is basically the gift shop for all of Boise. I bought postcards and Stone bought us all "Spud Bars" because we didn't know what they were and how can you pass something like that up? It turned out to be a weird nougaty-marshmallowy substance wrapped in dark chocolate and coconut. I assume the goal was to mimic what it might be like to bite into a raw potato and perhaps enjoy it. The Spud Bar achieved this goal. I believe this is all that needs be said on the subject.

It began to drizzle, and then rain. RJP4's "solution" to this "problem" was to buy a one hundred dollar jacket from The North Face. It was bright red and he did not regret it: it had technology that caused the rain to simply bead up and wipe right off. Arthur C. Clarke, I think, said that sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic, and clearly this is the proof. In the meantime the rain soaked through my ten dollar hooded sweatshirt. I did not have the aid of sorcery. At this point I threw out the latter half of my Spud Bar.

We visited Stone's place of employment: The Flying M, a coffee shop that is decidedly gay. And by that I mean that it is frequented by homosexuals. It serves many things--including various cereals in bowls--and there is a vending machine that pops out little boxes with art in them. None of the furniture matches and I think the best word for it is "comfortable." It was an excellent place to sit while the rain really picked up.

We visited the liquor store and saw vodka sold in a bottle shaped like a human skull. RJP4 bought some black label and all was well with the world. We trudged home in the rain like immigrants. Stone had to go to a long rehearsal and I put my hoodie in the dryer and fell asleep. Before he left Stone told us that there was a Chinese food place "nearby" called Panda Garden. RJP4 left in search of it. It turned out to be about a mile away.

I woke up when RJP4 returned, and the smell of his veggie lo mein made me envious. I, then, set off for the distant Panda Garden--but without the aid of the magical water repelling coat. My poor hoodie, so recently dried, was soaked through again by the time I returned. Along with most of the rest of me. But there were things to be said about my miserable trek: it gave me a good look at that part of Boise. Three observations: /1. Many houses in Boise are very small and simply do not believe in a second story. "One is enough," they say, believing more to be a sign of capitalist decadence. /2. There is a ponderous amount of classic cars in excellent shape in Boise. (My uncle would later explain that they don't use salt in the winter...which sciences up your car.) /3. The community pool is an above-ground. Who ever heard of such backward and savage ways? My hoodie went back in the dryer.

Later when Stone returned from rehearsal we walked back in the same direction, but past Panda Garden to the Albertson's grocery store. I picked up a package of "brownie cookies." A sticker on the box had a picture of the brownie cookies and read: "Brownie Cookies. It's a cookie and a brownie!" I could not pass this up.

On day one we walked, in total, roughly one thousand million hundred miles. My legs hurt as I drifted off to sleep on Stone's couch--surrounded by my cookie brownies or brownie cookies and the sleeping sounds of my close, drunken friends.

Next time! It doesn't rain, we walk more, and sadly no more giraffes are seen. Tune in!