Escape to the Wild (Day 10 – Encounter)

We found out in the morning that the road to Mammoth Hot Springs, which had been closed for construction, was finally open again to the public.  So, we decided to head up there before it closed again.  We stopped at the Woodside Bakery to grab some sandwiches and head off into Yellowstone.  To say that the day unfolded like an unimaginable dream would be an understatement.  There is no way that we could ever have planned or even thought up what was about to happen.  I asked God to show us His wonders, and He came through above and beyond!

Just inside the park entrance, we pulled over, so I could take a picture of what looked like an eagle’s nest high upon the mountain.  At the time, I didn’t realize that there was a bull elk walking through the field in front of me.  It was a good distance off, but I had been waiting to see a bull, as all we’d see so far were cows.  So, after snapping a few pictures as he walked in the morning sunlight, I had an idea.  I asked my wife to stopped a little ways up the road, so I could hike through the forest and get in front of him.  I had to literally squeeze between the young lodgepole pines, which were so thick and close together that they snagged on my clothing as I passed.  After a couple of minutes of squeezing between trees, trudging through the snow, and leaping across fallen trees, I finally came to a little clearing on the top of the hill.  Immediately to my left was a small herd of cows.  They looked completely surprised to see me pop through the trees, not so quietly I’m ashamed to admit, but they didn’t run off.  They just stared at me.

All of a sudden, within a hundred feet of my right, I heard an elk bull bugle a warning call.  I hadn’t even seen the other herd, but apparently they had seen me.  A group of cows and fawns emerged from the trees and began to scamper down the hill, followed by a huge bull elk.  He stopped, looked right at me, bugled again, and then raced down the hill to catch up with the others.  I was sad that I scared them off.  I hadn’t meant to do that, but it was an exhilarating experience to be that close to them.  After squeezing back through the trees, we headed on again.  At the very next bend in the road, there was a group of cars stopped on the side of the road with people all crouched down taking pictures of something in the field below.  As we slowed down, I noticed that they were all looking at the fleeing elk herd that I had just scared.  So, all of those people should thank me for giving them that experience!

Our first planned destination was Gibbons Falls.  It’s a neat waterfall that cuts through the mountain and then fans out before plummeting into the river below.  They have an overlook built, so you can view the waterfall from above as it cascades down.  The morning sunlight was just right to shine on the rushing water, and a rainbow arched in front of the falls arrayed in all of its colors.  We took a few minutes to just enjoy the roaring sound of the falls before moving on again up the road.

That was when we were blessed with our next unexpected encounter.  A very large group of cars were parked along the road and in every pullout.  We stopped, because this usually means some sort of animal sighting.  A crowd of this size could only mean something rare and special.  We joined the throng of people staring across the river, cameras trained on a splotch of trees.  Piecing together the murmurs, we learned that a grizzly bear sow and her two cubs were hanging out on the other side of the river, eating and enjoying the morning sun.  We found a good spot and waited.  It took about ten minutes for us to catch our first glimpse before they disappeared in the trees, and even then it was only the back and backside of the mother.  We moved further down river, following their path, and caught a few glimpses of the cubs, chomping on some grubs.  The grizzlies kept moving down river, and we kept following until they finally made a brief appearance right in front of us.  The mother bear was big with a head the size of a car tire.  The cubs, who someone said were about one year old, were pretty plump and fluffy.  One cub was the grayish-brown of a grizzly, the other was dark, dark brown almost black.

After that the bears changed direction and headed back up river.  So, again we all followed, when all of a sudden they lumbered down the hill toward the river.  So, we watched them as they walked along the river bank in full view, the various shades of grayish-brown on display in the sunlight.  The cubs dashing ahead as the mother slowly brought up the rear.  Then, the cubs would stop to explore and play, while the mother would stop to dig up and eat something from the ground.  Slowly, slowly they made their way along the river and then up the mountain.

We weren’t sure how we’d ever top that once in a lifetime opportunity.  We had heard people say that they had been coming to Yellowstone ten years without ever seeing a bear, and we saw one on our first time.  We stopped next at the Beryl Spring, which is the hottest thermal pool in Yellowstone.  While not a large pool, it was releasing an enormous amount of steam into the cool air.  From there, we stopped to scarf down our sandwiches and then off again toward Mammoth Hot Springs.

When we got to Norris, we found ourselves in a traffic jam as a herd of bison meandered across the road.  One bison went out first and stood in the middle of the road.  She just stood there, not moving, looking completely uninterested.  Slowly, slowly the other bison walked across the road, but that one didn’t move.  We figured she must have been the crossing guard.  When about half the herd, which was really large, had made it across the road, another younger bison stopped next to the crossing guard, and the crossing guard walked on across the road.  That younger bison then stood completely still in the middle of the road while the rest of the herd crossed.  We assumed that she must have been a crossing guard in training.

While the road to Mammoth Hot Springs was open, it still had construction on it.  So, we got stuck in a long line of cars, sitting and waiting for 45 minutes for our turn to drive down the one-lane road past the construction.  Many heated words and honks were exchanged between our car and the pilot car, which was doing 2 mph.  We finally made it through the construction and nearly drove right by the Mammoth Hot Springs.  They were not exactly what we were expecting.  For one thing, they were almost completely dried up.  They just looked like a big white hill.  The hot springs are divided into terraces that feature different pools and structures, each one unique.  My favorite was the Mound Spring.  It had many different formations of limestone and thermophile that made it fascinating.  Not to mention the slow stream of water cascading down the surface would ripple and glint in the sunlight.  The sound was peaceful and calming, like a waterfall pouring into a small brook.

We moved on up the hill to see some other terraces, when all of a sudden I saw movement out of the corner of my eye.  I grabbed my wife to stop her, as a grey fox bounded out of the snow right toward me.  He veered off behind a hill, so I pursued him down the walkway.  He ran straight at the walkway, dived under it, and then kept going on the other side.  His fur was a beautiful mixture of reds, grays, blacks, and whites.  He seemed unperturbed by my presence as he disappeared into the brush.  It ranked up there with the bear for coolness factor.

On a whim, my wife wanted to drive through the small town of Mammoth Hot Springs, so we decided to make a quick tour and then be on our way.  We no sooner entered the town, then we saw two huge bull elks eating grass near a café.  We pulled over to watch them, having never been this close to them before.  All of a sudden, the bigger of the two bulls charged the other one.  They locked antlers and began to have a shoving and twisting match around a small bush.  The park ranger that was there with us said that they were just hose-playing.  This might be a real fight during mating season, but that was long over.  The more we watched them circle and shove each other, the more they looked like two brothers wrestling in their parents living room.  As they played, they made these high-pitched grunts and yelps.  This went on for several minutes, until one of them lost interest and walked off around the corner to find some grass that wasn’t trampled down by wrestling elk.  We were amazed by the enormity of these bulls.  Their backs were level with the top of the cars they were passing, and their antlers stuck up past the roof of our SUV.

It was getting late, and we had a long drive back to the entrance of the park, so we headed back.  We got stuck in the construction traffic again going the other way, and then it was home free.  It was pitch black before we made it back to the gate, so I asked my wife to pull over in one of the turnouts by the river.  There were a million stars in the sky, something we don’t ever get to see in the bright lights of the city…layer upon layer…as far as the eye could see.  As we stood there looking at the beautiful array of stars scattered across the bluish-black sky, we started to hear bugling in the distance.  The call of one elk bull was answered by another directly across the river from us.  Back and forth they called to each other.  The night was so quiet that we could even hear antlers clacking in the darkness as two bulls wrestled with each other.

We finished our night by grabbing a pizza at Pete’s Pizza and heading back to the hotel to eat it.

Escape to the Wild (Day 9 – Steam)

Today, we went back to Yellowstone.  We decided to grab some Subway sandwiches and take them with us, so we wouldn’t have to leave the park once we were there.  Shortly into our drive, we came across another group of cars pulled over to the side of the road, watching another American Bison herd graze on the short, golden grass sticking through the patches of twinkling snow.  We got caught in the line of traffic, and the herd decided to cross to the other side of the road, so at one point, we were completely surrounded by bison.  (Interesting fact.  People erroneously refer to bison as buffalo.  But the term “buffalo” only refers to Water Buffalo or Cape Buffalo, neither of which exists in North America.  What we know as “buffalo” in North America are actually the American Bison.  It’s fascinating that this fallacy has been handed down through the years from generation to generation.  You can find it in many historical references, for example in the song “Home on the Range” and in the term “Buffalo Soldiers,” used to describe black men fighting in the Civil War.  We even ate at The Buffalo Bar last night, which has an American Bison as its logo!)

A little further on, we stopped at a little thermal pool near the river, and I spent some time combing the snow for animal footprints.  I have never told anyone this, but I have secretly always wanted to know how to track animals, like the Indians used to do…using footprints, scat, and other signs of passing.  I found several trails leading through the snow to the river that looked like deer or sheep and a couple of paw prints that looked like coyote.  I could be completely off, but I had fun anyway.

Next, we went to Ojo Caliente, a thermal pool aptly named the “Hot Eye.”  It had the most beautiful blue-green color formed by the bacteria on the bottom of the pool.  The water was pouring off into the river, creating a steaming waterfall, which was kind of neat.  I spent a little time tracking the bison footprints and scat along the river.  I also stopped to watch the trout swimming in the river, because the water was so clear that you could see all the way to the bottom.  Every once in a while, they would jump out of the water to catch a bug just above the surface.  A couple of times, there were ten to fifteen of them jumping out of the water at the same time!

After that it was on to the Grand Prismatic Spring, which has been a dream of my wife ever since she got that calendar of national parks in the United States.  The spring was kind of a disappointment, since there was so much steam coming off of it that you couldn’t really get the full effect of the various colors that lend themselves to the name.  The other issue is that the walkway has you at ground level with the spring, so you can’t see it very well, especially with the sun glinting off the water.  Someone said that it’s easier to see and visually more striking in the summer when the air isn’t so cool.

Don’t get me wrong, the whole area is beautiful when taken as a whole.  The bacteria mats are a variety of colors and display wondrous patterns that almost look like artwork.  Also, there are several other thermal pools that are just as beautiful and easier to see.  The Turquoise Pool and Opal Pool are a little smaller, but are very striking because the water is so calm and clear. 

The Excelsior Geyser Crater is pretty cool.  It was formed by a geyser that was first observed in the 1800s, exploding randomly 100 to 300 feet into the sky (compared to the Old Faithful Geyser, which shoots 100 to 180 feet into the sky).  The eruptions were so violent that they sunk the area around the geyser and damaged the internal plumbing.  The last known eruption was in 1985, but was very small in comparison.  The geyser now functions as a thermal pool, discharging 4,000 to 4,500 gallons of water per minute into the nearby Firehole River.

From here, we made our way to the last destination of the day, the Old Faithful Geyser.  The geyser is such named since its eruptions happen at fairly regular intervals, as mapped by a mathematical formula.  Within a margin of error of plus or minus 10 minutes, Old Faithful will erupt 65 minutes after an eruption lasting less than 2.5 minutes or 91 minutes after an eruption lasting more than 2.5 minutes.  We were about 45 minutes early for the next eruption, so we toured the visitor center and then enjoyed the wisecracking of the guy sitting next to us on the bench by the geyser.  When dormant, the geyser sends out a continuous stream of steam into the air that wafts gently across the Upper Geyser Basin. 

At almost exactly the time predicted the geyser started to shoot up a small stream of water.  With every passing second, the stream of water got higher and higher, building on itself, until it was shooting 140 feet in the air.  Thousands of gallons of water were discharged into the surrounding area.  The eruption only lasted a couple of minutes, but it was amazing!  We would definitely go to see it again.  (Interesting fact.  Back in the 1800s, when Old Faithful was first discovered, people used to put dirty laundry over the vent of the geyser.  When it would erupt, it would eject the clothing thoroughly washed!  Of course, they probably had a hard time finding it again, having traveled hundreds of feet in the air and more hundreds of feet away from the geyser vent.  Apparently, cotton and linen fabrics fared better than wool through the process.)

It was getting late, so we decided to head back.  On the way, we stopped at the Fairy Falls trail.  About midway down the trail, there is an offshoot trail that goes to an overlook of the Grand Prismatic Spring.  We thought we might be able to get a better view of the spring and the colors if we were above it.  The hike was a bit treacherous over loose snow and ice, but we made it just as the sun was going down behind the mountain behind us.  The view is amazing, and definitely worth the hike, but we were again thwarted in our attempts to truly see the colors of the spring.  There was so much steam rising off the hot pool, that it completely obscured the colors below.  We may just have to try again at another time of the year.

Back in the car, traveling down the road, we were treated to yet another American Bison herd blocking traffic.  One particular bull was standing to one side of our lane, eating the grass on the side of the road.  When he raised his head to nonchalantly look at the cars he was blocking, he had snow all over his snout.  I think it lent to his laissez faire attitude.

One more care pileup further down the road happened as an elk herd was crossing the road.  The elk are more skittish than the bison, and the loud, not-very-subtle people jumping out of their cars and running across the road scared them off.  We only caught a glimpse of the elk, leaping and running through the golden grasses toward the river.

Tonight, we had dinner at the MC Lounge (Madison Crossing).  It’s a higher-priced, fancier restaurant that’s only opened for dinner.  My wife had the Pan-Seared Idaho Trout, and I had the Romesco Shrimp Pasta.  The trout was a ruby-red trout with a creamy citrus sauce on top.  The shrimp pasta was a combination of shrimp, tomatoes, asparagus, and garlic in a romesco cream sauce.  Both were very good, but due to the exorbitant prices, I don’t think we’ll be eating here again.

Escape to the Wild (Day 8 – Breathtaking)

We packed up today and moved down to West Yellowstone, MT, so that we could be closer to Yellowstone National Park.  The town of West Yellowstone is small, but neat.  It’s sole purpose seems to be to cater to the constant stream of tourists going into the park which is literally a three-minute drive from anywhere in the town.

We went to lunch at the Slippery Otter Pub.  The food was good, but nothing special.  The bartender slash waiter, Bo, was very nice.  He even sat down at our table with a map of the area and marked out some places of interest for us.  He seemed to really love sharing his passion of the area with us. (Funny Story: My wife ordered a Caesar salad for lunch. While we were waiting for our order, she started to curl her nose in disgust. I asked her what was wrong, and she said that she smelled rotten vegetables. She went on to add that if that was how they cooked the food here, then maybe she should rethink the salad. I couldn’t help but snicker, because the rotten vegetable smell was actually me and my dissatisfied stomach.)

We decided to take a short jaunt into Yellowstone just to check things out, and we’re totally glad we did!  On the short drive from the entrance to the Fountain Paint Pots, we had an up-close encounter with several species of wildlife.  On one bend of the road, we saw several people pulled over on the side of the road taking pictures of something.  We pulled over too, and saw a bald eagle sitting in a tree across the river…majestic and fierce with the afternoon sun glinting off his white and brown feathers.  He appeared to be looking for fish in the river, as well as watching all of the people taking pictures of him.  I have never seen a bald eagle in person, and it was one of the coolest experiences of my life. 

A little further on, we ran into another large group of cars pulled over on the side of the road and realized that an American Bison herd was crossing the road, stopping traffic.  We got out of the car (even though we weren’t supposed to) and took pictures.  We were maybe 50 feet away from them, but they didn’t seem to care.  In addition to the various bulls and cows, adorned in all sizes and shades of brown, there were several calves in the herd too.  One bull was bellowing at all of the people, warning them to keep their distance.  This was the first time that my wife had ever seen a bison, so she was positively giddy.  I think this one experience made her whole vacation.

We went a little further to the Fountain Paint Pots, a geyser area so named for the various colors of the mud.  We enjoyed the geysers, but it was maddeningly cold, made colder by the arctic wind whipping across the plains.  The walkways were also hard to navigate as they were covered in a treacherous layer of ice.  Also, both of our cell phones decided to die at the same time, so we decided to head back to the hotel.

On the way, we spotted some elk eating by the river; their large, shaggy bodies silhouetted in the setting sun.  They were some distance off, but still close enough to clearly see their tan bodies, whitish backsides, and chocolate brown heads.  They moved slowly and gracefully along the riverbank, as they grazed on the golden grasses.  It was so peaceful to watch them.

Tonight, we went to The Buffalo Bar for dinner.  It was packed, so obviously it’s a happening place.  Everyone was there to watch the various sports games going on around the country.  We managed to find a little table in the corner, and we had a waitress named Amanda.  She was awesome; very outgoing and spunky.  My wife got a nachos appetizer, and I kid you not, this thing was a foot and a half long.  It was piled high with chips, cheese, chicken, olives, tomatoes, and sour cream.  She only made it through half before she waved the white flag.  I got a chicken fried steak with double mashed potatoes and garlic bread.  It was a fun night.

Escape to the Wild (Day 7 – Snow)

Today marks the halfway point of our vacation.  It also marks the second leg with us on our way to Montana and Wyoming.  So, after a nice morning with Jamee, we were off to Bozeman, MT.  The flight was uneventful until we started our descent into the airport, which is when we hit some very high winds.  The plane was tossing back and forth violently as the pilot tried to maintain control, landing hard but successfully.  As we left the airport, we were greeted with a heavy snowstorm, blanketing everything in a thick layer of white. 

The road to the hotel winds through the Gallatin Range, a beautiful part of the Rocky Mountains, covered in a blanket of green lodgepole pine trees dusted with the recent snow.  The highway picks up the Gallatin River and follows it all the way up to Big Sky.  The looming mountains, the swift-flowing river, and the blowing snow made for a beautiful scene.

Buck’s T-4 Lodge leaves a lot to be desired.  The rooms and interior look cheaper than portrayed in the photos.  We could probably make do, but it is also about an hour away from Yellowstone National Park, where we intend to spend the majority of our time here.  So, we’ll be canceling the rest of our stay and looking for something closer to the park.

For dinner, we went to the Riverside Grill, which serves Texas-style barbeque.  The view from the restaurant looks out at the Gallatin River, and we got to watch the snow fall as we ate our food.  The food was pretty good.  The sweet tea was amazing (it could have been withdrawal, since this is the first sweet tea I’ve had in a week)!  It was so good, I put away two 24-ounce mason jars of it, and got a glass to go.  Needless to say, after the food and the exorbitant amount of sweet tea, I was miserable.  So, here I sit moaning while I catch up on my writing.

Escape to the Wild (Day 6 – Fear)

This morning we decided to attempt the drive up Pikes Peak before we left for Denver.  At 14,115 feet above sea level, it’s not the tallest mountain in the Rockies, but it’s definitely the most-visited.  Named in honor of explorer Zebulon Pike, who tried and failed to climb the mountain in 1806, Pikes Peak is one of 53 fourteeners in Colorado.  The drive takes about an hour to reach the summit, taking you along a winding and twisting road with sheer drop-offs, as you climb over 5,000 feet from the base to the top.  For two people that are afraid of heights, this was one of the worst ideas in the history of the world!

But I was determined not to stop until we made it all the way.  So, we kept driving…mile by snowy mile.  The temperature dropped 25 degrees along the ascent.  When we finally made it, I had to unpack my winter gear from my suitcase so I could walk around.  Unfortunately, my wife got altitude sickness and was forced to remain in the car, so I explored the summit alone.  The wind was unbelievably strong, and I thought for sure they were going to close the road.  But it didn’t matter, because we had made it.

The trek down didn’t take nearly as long, as my wife channeled her inner Mario Andretti, and we raced down the road taking switchbacks on two wheels.  All-in-all, we spent about two and half hours on the mountain.  We headed to Manitou Springs for lunch, stopping at Marilyn’s Pizza for a couple of greasy, gigantic slices of pizza.  While there, we chatted with the teenagers working in the restaurant.  One of them was telling us that the population of Colorado had increased dramatically over the last couple of years.  The rise in people was due to the legalization of marijuana.  Ironically, the crime rate in Colorado was on the decline during that same period.  When my wife inquired as to why, one of the guys replied, “I guess it’s because everyone is chillin’ now.”  I guess that makes sense.

After that, we headed back to Denver to meet J, R, and E for dinner at 3 Margaritas.  It was a nice evening of visiting, reminiscing, and enjoying our friends…topped by a tour of R and E’s new house.

Escape to the Wild (Day 5 – Wild)

Based on a recommendation from…well everybody, including the entire staff at the Manitou Cliff Dwellings, we went to the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo today.  And this is where we found the first gem of our trip.  The zoo is actually built up in the mountains with a starting elevation of 6,714 feet.  So, a lot of the enclosures consist of elevated areas, rocky outcroppings, and natural land formations to make the animals feel more at home.  I know what you’re thinking…seen one zoo, seen them all.  I hear you…I was skeptical at first too.  So, what makes this zoo so special and worth my rating of a vacation gem?  It’s the animal interaction level.

I have never gone to a zoo where you get to interact so closely with the animals.  The very first attraction after walking in the front gate is a giraffe feeding pen.  They have built elevated platforms, so you’re actually standing eye-to-eye with the giraffes.  You can buy lettuce from a booth, and the giraffes will actually eat it right out of your hand.  I can officially say that I have been licked by the long, black tongue of a giraffe now.  We were so enamored by this, that we kept going back and buying more food.  Literally, spending lettuce on lettuce.  One guy near us commented that he couldn’t believe he’d just spent $20 on lettuce, and his girlfriend replied, “Yeah, but it was totally worth it.”  I couldn’t agree more.

I also had a personal encounter with the big, daddy male of the giraffe population.  Khalid was being kept separate from the females, for obvious reasons, and he was making his way over to a bucket to eat some grass.  As we walked by, the grass dropped out of his mouth right on me.  So, I scooped it into a pile and held it up to him (even on an elevated platform, he was towering two feet over me).  He gently ate it right out of my hand.  It was the coolest thing, because nobody else was around, so it was just for me!

From there, we made our way around to the other African exhibits.  Like the new meerkat babies, which were so little and curious.  Or the African elephants, which were sticking their trunks straight up in the air to pull grass from a bucket hung up in the tree.  While everyone else bustled past, racing from exhibit to exhibit only spending a few seconds looking at the animals, my wife and I took our time soaking in each animal…just standing and watching.  I have never enjoyed a zoo so much, as I did taking time to see the animals for their individual personalities and quirks.

The path wound around to the Australian exhibits next, where we had another amazing up-close encounter.  We got to pet a wallaby!  She was sitting there by the path eating a leaf, and she let us walk right up to her.  I was stroking her back and scratching her face, and she stopped eating the leaf…holding it halfway to her mouth, closed her eyes, and just enjoyed being caressed.  It was absolutely amazing!

After the Australian exhibits, we decided to have lunch at the zoo café.  We got our food and went out on the patio to eat and enjoy the gorgeous weather.  Wandering around freely between the tables were about a dozen peacocks, gobbling up anything thrown their way.  I enjoyed feeding them my wife's French fries.  She was terrified with them getting so close.

From there, we headed to the monkey pavilion, where my wife had an up-close encounter with a two-toed sloth.  Apparently, breaking from the normal habit of sleeping throughout the day, the sloth decided that she was hungry and crawled across the trees strewn above our heads to get to the feed box.  My wife was enamored with watching her eat and interact with the zoo staff.  She was even more enamored to find out that because of the slow metabolism of the sloths, that they only poop once a week.  Can you imagine that?!

The next area boasted a moose that likes to stand in the water and soak his feet, two magnificent pacing mountain lions, and two trouble-making grizzly bears.  Emmett and Digger are adopted brothers, who were put into the care of the zoo, because they kept wreaking havoc in the neighboring towns.  We got there just in time to watch the zoo staff feed the curious grizzly bears.  The pair grabbing their feet, sitting back, and doing yoga poses for handfuls of fruits and vegetables!

The last section we ventured into was the Asian exhibit, and there we were given yet another treat.  The Amur tiger was feeling very playful and proceeded to put on a show as he tried to get on top of a plastic barrel floating in his little water hole, rolling and biting until the barrel submitted.  After he had conquered the barrel, he attacked a big red rubber ball floating around as well, wrapping his muscular arms around the ball and attempting to pop the ball with his sharp teeth.

After that it was time to leave, as the zoo was closing.  So, we made the jaunt back down the mountain.  In the car ride, we discussed how amazing it was that God had made each animal, adapting it to its purpose and environment.  The power and beauty combined within their skin is awe-inspiring.  We spend so much time avoiding and fearing the animals, that we never really take the time to see how amazing they are.  It was the best day at the zoo that we have ever spent.

For dinner, we had a light dinner at The Cracker Barrel and called it a night.  Tomorrow, back to Denver.

Escape to the Wild (Day 4 – Majestic)

Well, today turned out to be absolutely beautiful.  The sky was clear, the weather was cool but not cold, and everything looked fresh and rejuvenated after the snow yesterday.  So, we decided this would be the perfect day to go to the Garden of the Gods.

Garden of the Gods is a free park displaying massive, free-standing rock structures in various shapes and formations.  The rocks are composed mostly of white limestone and red sandstone, giving them a stark contrast to the greens and browns of the surrounding area.  Over the years, the rocks have split and fallen (in some places), leaving impossibly-beautiful shapes behind.  The walk around the park on the main trail is only about 1.5 miles, but you can definitely spend several hours here, admiring the formations and gazing out at the surrounding landscape.  Off in the distance, Pikes Peak looms over the park with its snow-capped peak, lending a majesty to the whole area.

Our favorite formations were the “Three Graces” and the “Cathedral Spires.”  The “Three Graces” look like three hands, side-by-side in prayer.  From the side, the slender fingers slope up into the sky with a small gap in between them.  The “small” gap is large enough for two people to walk into it side-by-side.  The “Cathedral Spires” look like the flying buttresses of Notre Dame with thin pillars rising up next to a large, central rock and horizontal rocks connecting the pillars to the larger rock.  The delicacy and grace of these formations is what makes them intriguing.  These are rocks…huge, lumbering rocks…but they somehow manage to be these beautiful works of art without a human’s hand ever touching or shaping them.

We grabbed a quick lunch at Panera, because my wife had a craving, and then headed to Manitou Springs, CO to see the cliff dwellings.  The cliff dwellings are a line of houses cut from and constructed into the cliffs by the Anasazi Indians.  These particular dwellings were apparently moved to this spot over a hundred years ago in order to preserve them.  They’re small, but well-done.  They give you information on each structure, and you can actually climb into and over everything.  It makes it more real when you can actually stand inside and touch the structures.  The Anasazi were very small people, so a lot of the openings were too small for me to climb through, so I just had to stick my head through the opening instead.  We have several pictures of my backside sticking out of the hole, since my wife thought that was funny (we should never give that woman a camera, I swear).  It didn’t take us long to complete this, but that’s okay, because it was late in the day, and they were closing anyway!

For dinner, we did a throwback to our days in Missouri, and went to HuHot Mongolian Grill.  It was just like we remembered, and I went to town in there, eating a plate and a half of food before my wife had even eaten her first!  I’m usually the slowest eater at the table, but not tonight…not tonight…I loves me some HuHot (or as the GPS calls it, “Hu-hoe”)!

Escape to the Wild (Day 3 – Quaint)

We did get snow today.  It started off as a light dusting, but it picked up into a full-blown snow storm by lunchtime.  When we finally decided to leave the hotel and venture out into it (my wife was content just to sit and watch it through the window), I had to brush the snow off the car.  I had flashbacks to Missouri and when we first moved to Texas.  It felt weird, and good, to go through those motions again.  I have missed the snow.

Neither of us were feeling well today, my wife with her back and me with my stomach, so we decided to put Garden of the Gods on hold and take a jaunt over to Old Colorado City.  It’s a quaint, little city just a few minutes away from Colorado Springs.  We concentrated on the main strip.  It is lined with cute, little shops that have all types of crafts, souvenirs, and art…lots of art.  They have a whole Art Walk that takes you from shop to shop to see works by local artists.  Even some of the buildings had beautiful murals painted on the sides of them.  It gives the city personality.

We ate at The Mason Jar, which touted traditional, American fare.  The place had a warm, rustic feel inside with wood paneling and a fire cracking in the large fireplace.  The staff all looked artsy and edgy with piercings and tattoos, which seemed out of place in the setting, but they were all extremely nice.  My wife settled for a hot tea, a soup, and a salad to warm up.  She said it was excellent.  I decided to try the daily special, which was a slab of meatloaf and a pile of mashed potatoes stretched across two pieces of soft bread and smothered in a dark, mushroom gravy (yes, I willingly ate fungus).  It was good, but the meatloaf wasn’t the best I have ever eaten.  But then, meatloaf is an acquired taste, since everyone makes it differently.

Still, it filled us up to an uncomfortable level.  So, we both decided that it would be a good idea to walk the strip to digest (personally, I just think my wife wanted to shop).  Despite the chill in the air, the day turned out beautiful.  The day was brisk, but not unpleasantly so.  The sun came out later in the day to warm things up.  The snow didn’t stick around very long at all.  All in all, it was the perfect way to kill a couple of hours before we headed back to the hotel.

Tonight, we ventured out to a restaurant called Bad Daddy’s Burger Bar.  The décor was industrial and modern with a heavy music influence.  The menu featured choices like the “Bacon Cheeseburger on Steroids,” the “Magic Mushroom,” the “Bad Ass Burger,” and the “Pittsburgher.”  My wife got the “Magic Mushroom,” which featured four different types of mushrooms over an Angus-beef patty.  I went with the “Pittsburgher,” which featured garlic-spiced ketchup and shoestring fries over an Angus-beef patty.  Both were huge and delicious.  After stuffing our faces with the burgers, we decided to splurge and get an Oreo shake for dessert.  Needless to say, we’re miserable this evening, but would do it again…no regrets.

Escape to the Wild (Day 2 - Relaxation)

Not much to report today.  I got up four hours before everyone else, and I decided to spend the quiet time writing.  It’s amazing how the words will just flow out of me, when I don’t have distractions or obligations to address.  I find it relaxing and peaceful, like finding something you were always meant to do, and it just comes about naturally.

All in all, we had a pretty lazy morning.  My wife got up late, getting some much-needed and overdue rest, and then we all went to brunch at Benedict’s.  I got the Denver omelet, because what else would you get in Denver, CO, and my wife got eggs benedict, because what else would you get at a place called Benedict’s?!  We passed several hours just talking and catching up with Jamee, relaxing and enjoying each other’s company.  Sure, we could have rushed off to do something touristy, but it just seemed right to spend some time relaxing instead.

Eventually, we made our way down to Colorado Springs, CO.  But we turned off for Devil’s Head Trail on the way.  The drive up the mountain to the trailhead was a narrow, extremely curvy, dirt and gravel road.  My wife was gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles the entire time, especially when a car would come flying down the other way, forcing us to the very edge of the road.  She decided to be overly cautious, driving around 5-10 mph the entire way, and we barely made it to the trailhead before sunset.  Since it was getting dark, and my wife had a sudden case of altitude sickness, we decided to just turn around and head on without hiking the trail.

The trip back down the mountain took about one-third of the time.  My wife was like a woman possessed.  I saw that familiar gleam in her eyes, when we started to pick up speed.  She was no longer afeared, and we careened down that mountain in record time.

We checked into the hotel, got settled, and headed over to Old Chicago for a deep-dish pizza and a football game.  The Texans were being creamed by the Chiefs, and I got to experience it in eight-TV-surround-picture in the sports bar upstairs.  The pizza was amazing.  We both highly recommend the Chicago-thick crust.

We’re supposed to get snow tomorrow, so that ought to be interesting.  I guess we’ll see what we wake up to.

Escape to the Wild (Day 1 - Incursion)

Today, we flew to Denver, CO to begin our much-needed vacation.  The last couple of weeks, well months, have been rough.  The demands of work and life have been mounting for both my wife and I until they had reached unbearable limits.  We were burned out long ago, but had managed to hang on to the dying embers of life until we could take it no more.  So, we packed it all in and flew away.

We’re staying with one of my old college roommates tonight, JT.  He has been gracious enough to open his home to us, and it has been great to see him again.  It’s sad when you start to measure your encounters with people in years, but life and distance will do that to you.  We only have this one night and tomorrow morning with him, but we’ll take all we can get.

The trip to Denver was short and uneventful.  The packing and getting out of the house less so.  But in over fifteen years together, my wife and I have never managed to leave for a trip on time or without drama, so I think it’s important that we continue to keep that streak alive.  JT had made dinner reservations for us at a place called Ophelia’s, which was an old brothel turned into a restaurant, bar, and youth hostel.  The décor was dark and racy, a throw-back to days gone past.  The food was different, edgy, and not really something I would probably try again.  But the company was amazing.

JT had invited a couple of his friends along as well.  Justin and Ashley formed the other parts of JT's three-person dinner group, and they complemented our party perfectly.  Justin was easy-going and interesting.  Ashley was sassy and out-spoken.  We passed the evening in companionable conversation, before heading to another place for dessert.

JT had found a place that served Thai, shaved ice, called Snowlab.  The restaurant itself was just a little hole-in-the-wall place near an Enterprise rental place.  There wasn’t much in the way of food around it, and it was a small place, so you really had to know it was there to find it.  The food was sort-of like a sno-cone, but the ice was softer and fluffier than normal, more like the texture of ice cream, but less creamy and more delicate.  The ice was also flavored with things like Coffee, Green Tea, Strawberry, Avocado, Banana, and Oreo.  Then you added the toppings and the syrup drizzle.  We all tried something different, so we could share and get the full experience.  Some of us less adventurous, like my wife with her strawberry ice, with strawberry topping, and strawberry drizzle.  Some of us more adventurous, like me with my green tea ice with Oreo topping, and chocolate drizzle.  And some of us downright crazy, like JT with his avocado ice, dragon eyes topping, and mango drizzle.  It was very good, and we would definitely recommend seeking it out to try it.

The evening wound up shortly after that, since I wasn’t feeling well.  Seems my allergies managed to board the plane too, and I have a splitting headache.  Apparently, altitude sickness can also turn into an issue up here, so we’ve already been trying to drink a lot more water.  Tomorrow we’re off to Colorado Springs, but that’s tomorrow.  Tonight, I’m bushed.

Birthdays Done Right

At the beginning of 2003, I bought a brand new, black Chevrolet S10 pick-up truck.  It was the ZR2 edition, so it had the jacked up tires to make it more manly.  It was a small truck, but it was the perfect compromise between the height and utility of a truck and the maneuverability and convenience of a car.  It was my first brand-new car, the first car I had bought for myself, and I loved it immensely.  I named him “Onyx,” because every car should have a cool name.

A few months after buying the car, I drove up to College Station, TX and took my then fiancée out for her birthday.  I decided to surprise her with a nice dinner at Red Lobster (the restaurant she was always bugging me to take her) and a scenic drive out in the country.  College Station was sort of remote, so without too much effort, it was possible to drive far enough away from the city to get away from the lights and see the stars.  Everything was going according to plan, and we were on our way out to my favorite little deserted road to look at millions of stars splayed across the night sky, when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.  The moment I realized what it was, I started screaming, because well…there was nothing else to do.  It was moving too fast for me to react in any other way.

A second later a deer slammed into the side of my truck.  That’s right, in a twist of the usual story, a deer hit me instead of the other way around.  The doe crossed six lanes of traffic, bounced off my truck, flopped over in the road, and lay stunned.  I immediately pulled off to the side of the road to assess the situation.  I was standing there looking at that poor deer struggle to try to get up, wondering what I could do to help her, when I heard a deep, thrumming noise approaching from the left.  A moment later a big, jacked-up truck with four-foot tires broke through the darkness and ran right over the deer.  There was a faint squishing sound, and then it was all over.  I guess in retrospect, it was a blessing in disguise, because she was probably suffering immeasurably.  With no way to help her anymore, I turned to see the damage on my truck.

My left front fender and wheel well were completely crushed.  So much so that the fender was actually bent back onto the tire, rubbing and scraping across the tread.  The left side of the hood was crumpled.  The front bumper, left headlight, and grill were shattered.  In one moment, that deer had completely immobilized my truck.  I called the emergency number on my driver’s license, and a police car appeared a few minutes later.  The officer took an accident report, called me a tow truck, and then offered us a ride back to my fiancée’s  apartment. 

So, our night ended up with us in the back of a police car.  And I say that if your birthday does not end with you in the back of a police car, then you’re not doing it right.  But maybe do it for having fun, instead of being target practice for a suicidal deer.

The Life of a Divorced Child

When I was two years old, my parents got divorced.  I can’t say that I remember anything that was  going on in the house or with my parent’s relationship at the time.  If I did, I have long-since repressed those memories.  So, as far as I’ve known, I have grown up my entire life with two households.  My parents agreed to joint custody, so my brother and I entered into a complicated life of being shuffled back and forth from one parent to the other.  The arrangement was logical, I suppose, so that neither of our parents had to be away from us for too long, but it was brutal on my brother and I.

My mother got the odd months – January, March, May, etc.  My father got the even months – February, April, June, etc.  I’m not sure how much thought went into that at the time, but it did ensure that my mother got us for Mother’s Day, and my father got us for Father’s Day.  Also, we spent one major holiday (Thanksgiving and Christmas) at each of their houses.  In addition to trading months, we were also shipped back and forth every other weekend.  They lived relatively close to each other, so the drive wasn’t so much of an issue.  It was the life itself that was hard on us.

When we went to one parent’s home, we left behind the life we had at the other.  Our friends, our toys, our routine…all gone.  We entered a new world with different friends, different toys, and different routines.  The only consistent thing was our school.  After years of doing this, and essentially growing up like this, you get used to it.  My friends eventually learned the routine and early on would plan things based on if it was a month when I’d be around.  But my friends didn’t stop living just because I was gone for a month.  So I often found, especially as I got older, that they had moved on without me, developing different circles of friends and doing things without me.  Some stopped even asking, because it was too much of a hassle to plan around my schedule.  I found myself becoming more and more isolated.  I tried to connect with people at both houses, but connection takes time and consistency…neither of which I could provide.

My parents didn’t really seem to understand this or how hard it was.  Maybe they expected us to have the resiliency of youth.  Maybe they thought we were coping just fine.  Maybe they didn’t think about it at all; so caught up in their adult lives and getting even with each other, that they never stopped to consider what it was doing to the two innocent kids caught in the middle.  To be fair, we never really told them.  My brother and I complained about it with each other, but we never really brought it up to them.  I’m not sure it would have made much difference.  What could they do?  They were trapped in the cycle too.

Life went on like this, until I was thirteen.  My brother, who was three years older, decided that one day he wasn’t going back to my mother’s house.  He was finally taking a stand for himself…for his life…for consistency.  He was choosing to live permanently at my father’s.  Needless to say, this did not go over well.  My father tried, to his credit, to get my brother to go.  But what can you do with a sixteen year-old boy who has made up his mind?  You can’t forcibly drag him into the car (although I do remember my mother yelling that my father should have done just that).  So, on we went without him.  My father driving ever closer to the inevitable battle that he knew awaited him on the other side, and me sitting in the back, terrified at the wrath that would be unleashed and the backlash that would consume me in its wake.  And just like that, with that one decision, my brother changed my entire world.  Life was in upheaval.  The routine changed.  Everything changed…and not for the better.

I won’t go into the fight that transpired between my parents when we got there.  I’m sure you can imagine it just fine without it being described.  But I will say that I was right to be terrified.  In her anger, my mother inadvertently made my life a terror.  I don’t think she meant to intentionally be hard on me.  I know that she was hurt by my brother’s actions, not just the action, but the significance of that action as well.  In her mind, it meant that my brother was choosing my father over her, and that rejection hurt more than anything.  I see that now, but I didn’t see that then.  Back then, I walked on eggshells, because I never knew when I’d set her off.

It wasn’t only my mother.  I changed on both sides.  I look back at that time, the hardest of my entire life, and I see how it shaped me.  I became more introverted.  I kept more to myself and became more watchful.  I had to learn an entirely new way to think about and approach situations…to manipulate them to my advantage without giving anything away…to dance the dance.  I became more conniving and sly.  I’m not saying this was a good thing, but I can see how I became this way.  For three years, I traversed the waters alone.  My brother had abandoned me.  The one person who could empathize with my plight was not only gone, but his removal of himself from the situation had actually made it worse for me.  I was now the sole recipient of the negative attention, the housework, and the pawn between my parents.

This went on for three years, until I was also sixteen.  Then, I made the hardest decision of my life, and I decided to stand up for me as well.  I chose to also live with my father permanently.  But unlike my brother, I faced my mother and stepfather with my choice.  I sat there on that fireplace, and I took every word.  I endured every question and accusation.  It was horrible.  Understandably, they were upset and hurt.  But I was made out to be the bad guy for choosing to correct a situation that I never asked to be put into in the first place.  Sure, I could have chosen my mother’s house, but by this time, I had no friends in the area.  I had no social life in the area.  It was the formative years, when you’re evolving your identity and your circle of relationships, and I chose the place that was going to help me foster those.  It wasn’t about my mother or my father.  It was about me.  It was what I needed to do for myself.  After fourteen years of being something that my parents selfishly used against each other, it was finally going to be about me.  It should have been about me, and my brother, all along.  But if someone else wasn’t going to make that choice for me, then I’d make it for myself.  So, I did. 

I paid the price, in full.  I endured the wrath.  I had paid it for my brother, who was too much of a coward to pay it himself, and I paid it again for me.  I kept going to see my mother and stepfather, every other weekend.  When I went off to college, I still went home on the weekends to see them.  I continued to be there, in their lives.  They weren’t always warm to me, especially at first, but it got better.  I think when they realized that I wasn’t going to abandon them like my brother did, that it wasn’t something personal against them, that they started to let me back in.  I think it also helped when I went away to college.  By that point, I wasn’t choosing anybody at all.

Ironically, I ended up having an amazing relationship with both my stepfather and my mother.  The one with my mother, which I still enjoy, is better than it’s ever been.  At some point, we moved past all of that, and became even closer.  That is not the ironic part.  The ironic part is that even as I grew closer to my mother, I grew further away from my father.  Somewhere around five years ago or so, the tables began to tip the other way.  I guess you can never truly have that perfect balance.

I look back at my life, especially those fourteen years, but even the aftermath of the next seven or eight, and I can see how I was being shaped as a human being.  I see where my negativity, suspicion, and manipulation evolved.  But I also see where my maturity, bravery, and loyalty evolved.  I still fight the first three, and I still have the last three.  And through the years, I have developed other qualities to help temper and compliment those. 

It was a hard life.  A life I would never choose for anyone.  It definitely wasn’t the best childhood that I could have had, but it wasn’t the worst by any means.  I mean I got two amazing stepparents out of the deal, which I wouldn’t trade for anything, so it couldn’t have been all bad.  I don’t think God chooses bad things for people, but He is there to help turn them into something good.  I was too oblivious to realize it at the time, but I see now that He never left my side throughout all of those trials.  He was constantly shaping me, lovingly helping me, and sometimes carrying me.  I don’t know how I would have made it without Him.  In a word, I’m a survivor.  I have come through the fire, and I’m still here.

Escalations

Today, I had a customer escalate on me.  Now, with this customer, this is not a particularly novel concept, as they have escalated on me around four or five times already during the lifetime of this project.  In the past, it was for reasons pertaining to following the rules and doing my job as directed, and they just simply didn’t like my answers.  So, they escalated me, and instead of giving me support, my managers threw me under the bus and gave in to the customer.  Now, they think they can dictate my actions simply by going over my head.  Essentially, they’ve done away with the meaning and power of the concept “escalation” because they’ve used it so much.

So, why does this escalation today standout?  Well, it’s because they escalated on me for taking Paid Time Off.  That’s right!  They escalated on me for taking a vacation!  They complained that my brain holds all of the knowledge about the integrations on their project, and they don’t feel comfortable that I’m going to sufficiently pass that knowledge along to my back-up.  So, they’re afraid that he won’t do a good job, and their project will fail at the last minute.  They actually had the gall to tell my managers that I need to change my plans and take my PTO at a different time.

The funniest part is that this is the first vacation I’ve had all year, and one of the major reasons that I need to take it now is because I’m burned out from dealing with them.  I sent a text to my wife about this, and she started to panic thinking that all of the vacation planning we had just done was going to have to change.  She asked, “What are we going to do now?”  And I replied, “Give them the middle finger and enjoy our vacation.”  (NOTE:  This is the first time I’ve been able to use the middle finger emoticon on my iPhone.  It seems perfect that it should be in context with this particular customer.)

Swahili in America

ML is from Tanzania, a country in Africa for all of you that aren’t up on your geography.  In Tanzania, they speak Swahili as their primary language; and when ML came to the United States, he was surprised to find Swahili words used here in restaurant names.  Well, maybe not the words exactly, spelled differently but pronounced the same.  But what confused him the most about seeing Swahili words used here was the words that were chosen.

For example, the word “jamba” is actually directly from Swahili and means “fart.”  So, the first time he saw a Jamba Juice, he was speechless.  Why would someone sell fart juice, he asked himself?  But while he had reservations about the place, everyone he knew was telling him how amazing it was.  So, after he got over his initial trepidation, he decided to try it.  Now, it’s one of his favorite places.  He told his wife, “Who knew that’s what fart juice tasted like!?”  He still hasn’t been able to figure out what would have motivated someone to open a shop named that, and he’s reluctant to bring his parents or in-laws over to try it.  I said, “Can you imagine that conversation with your grandkids years down the road?  How’d you make your fortune, grandpa?  You’ll never believe it.  I actually sold fart juice to millions of people and they loved it!”

Another word that ML sees everywhere is “taco,” pronounced like the Swahili word “tako,” which means “butt.”  The myriad of restaurants – Taco Bell, Taco Bueno, Taco Cabana – are bad enough for obvious reasons, but taco has also come to take on a different meaning at our workplace.  We give each other virtual “tacos” for helping, mentoring, and going above and beyond.  At the end of each month, the managers look to see who had the most tacos, and the winner gets a $50 gift card.  So, essentially we’re all in a competition to see who is the biggest butt on our team!  (Or, if you prefer JT’s version, we’re in a competition to see who can get the most tail on the team.)

To take it one step further, the word “cabana” is pronounced like the Swahili word “kabana,” which means “squeeze.”  So, Taco Cabana is Swahili for “butt squeeze.”  I’ve never been to a Taco Cabana, but I’m less likely to go, since I now know what’s going on in that place.  Although, I did tell my wife that she’s welcome to kabana my tako any time she feels like it!

Walking

HR and I were walking around the parking lot of our building the other day, taking a break from our desks and enjoying some much-needed eye relief from our monitors.  We like to change our routes up each day, but if we’re short on time, then we just take a lap or two around the parking garage. 

As we rounded the corner, a car pulled in behind us.  Having nowhere else to go, we were walking in the lane, and the car seemed content to ride behind us, instead of passing by in the other lane.  When we were finally able to move over to let the car pass, it did so slowly, and there in the passenger seat was a white dog, giving us the most perturbed look I have ever seen.  He actually turned his head as they were passing, so that he could continue to give us that look the entire time.

At the very last moment, right before they pulled into the parking garage, I gave him a head nod to show there was no insult intended.  And without pausing, he gave me one back to show we were cool.  Dogs are awesome!

The Crooked Man

Excerpt from "For Hugh Hefner, gay rights were part of the sexual revolution" by Derek Hawkins, published in The Washington Post  on September 28, 2017.

The year was 1955, and science fiction author Charles Beaumont had, by most accounts, crossed the line with his latest short story.

“The Crooked Man” depicted a dystopian future where homosexuality was the norm, heterosexuality was outlawed and angry anti-straight mobs marched through the street chanting “make our city clean again!” Even the relatively progressive Esquire magazine had rejected the piece because it was too controversial.

But Beaumont found a fan in a young Hugh Hefner, who agreed to run it in his Playboy magazine, then less than two years old.

Outraged letters poured in to Playboy. Even readers of the pioneering nude publication found Beaumont’s tale of straight people dressing in drag and sneaking into dark barrooms to find partners too offensive for their tastes.

Hefner responded to the backlash in a defiant note. “If it was wrong to persecute heterosexuals in a homosexual society,” he wrote, “then the reverse was wrong, too.”



I found this article on Hugh Hefner fascinating.  Not so much because of what he did or said, which is fascinating in its own right, but because of the description of the short story "The Crooked Man."  It led me to look up and read the story, which is contained below, if you're curious.  I was fascinated by the notion of a society in reverse, where heterosexuals were persecuted for their way of life.  More so, because it gives a glimpse into humanity.  Humans will always persecute other humans.  As much as homosexuals fight the persecution that they now find themselves in, if given the chance, they would become the persecutors.

I am also fascinated by this concept, because it exactly describes the state of the city of Sodom when God destroyed it.

Before they had gone to bed, all the mend from every part of the city of Sodom - both young and old - surrounded the house.  They called to Lot, "Where are the men who came to you tonight?  Bring them out to us so that we can have sex with them."

Lot went outside to meet them and shut the door behind him and said, "No, my friends.  Don't do this wicked thing.  Look, I have two daughters who have never slept with a man.  Let me bring them out to you, and you can do what you like with them.  But don't do anything to these men, for they have come under the protection of my roof."

"Get out of our way," they replied.  "This fellow cam here as a foreigner and now he wants to play the judge!  We'll treat you worse than them."  

They kept bringing pressure on Lot and moved forward to break down the door.  But the men inside reached out and pulled Lot back into the house and shut the door.

Genesis 19:4-10

This was not only an acceptable way of life, but the homosexuals in Sodom were actually pushing their agenda and persecuting the heterosexuals.  I understand that Charles Beaumont's story was supposed to outrage people into seeing how wrong the persecution of another human being is because of their sexual inclination, and that heterosexuals would dislike it just as much if the tables were turned.  I hope we never get to a place where the tables are turned, but it was an eye-opening experience to imagine it.  While I don't agree with homosexuality, I don't agree in persecuting homosexuals either.  It is not my place to enact judgement on them.  

But it also scares me to think that based on the current trends and given enough time, our society might reverse itself.  People do not stop when they have equality, they keep pushing and pushing, selfishly driving their agenda to advantage.  That is human nature.  There is always an imbalance of power, and we as a society are seeing the see-saw slowly, slowly tip the other way.



The Crooked Man by Charles Beaumont (1955)

“Professing themselves to be wise, they became fools . . . who changed the truth of God into a lie . . . for even their women did change the natural use into that which is against nature: and likewise also the men, leaving the natural use of the woman, burned in their lust one toward another: men with men working that which is unseemly . . .”
(Si. Paul: Romans, I)

He slipped into a corner booth away from the dancing men, where it was quietest, where the odors of musk and trangipani hung less heavy on the air. A slender lamp glowed softly in the booth. He turned it down; down to where only the club’s blue overheads filtered through the beaded curtain, diffusing, blurring the image thrown back by the mirrored walls of his light thin-boned handsomeness.

“Yes, sir?” The barboy stepped through the beads and stood smiling. Clad in gold-sequined trunks, his greased muscles seemed to toll in independent motion, like fat snakes beneath his naked skin.

“Whiskey,’’ Jesse said. He caught the insouciant grin, the broad white-tooth crescent that formed on the young man’s face. Jesse looked away, tried to control the flow of blood to his cheeks.

“Yes. sir.” the barboy said, running his thick tanned fingers over his solar plexus, tapping the fingers, making them hop in a sinuous dance. He hesitated, still smiling, this time questioningly, hopefully, a smile filled with admiration and desire. The Finger Dance, the accepted symbol since 2648, stopped: the pudgy brown digits curled into angry fists. “Right away, sir.”

Jesse watched him turn; before the beads had tinkled together, he watched the handsome athlete make his way imperiously through the crowd, shaking off the tentative hands of single men at the tables, ignoring the many desire symbols directed toward him.

That shouldn’t have happened, Jesse thought. Now the fellow’s feelings were hurt. If hurt enough, he would start thinking, wondering — and that would ruin everything. No. it must be put right.

He thought of Mina, of the beautiful Mina. It was such a rotten chance; it had to go well!
“Your whiskey, sir,” the young man said. His face was like a dog’s face, large, sad; his lips were a pouting bloat of line.

Jesse reached into his pocket for some change. He started to say something, something nice. 

“It’s been paid for,” the barboy said. He scowled and laid a card on the table and left.

The card carried the name E. J. Hodart, embossed, in lavender ink. Jesse heard the curtains tinkle.

“Hello, there! I hope you don’t mind my barging in like this, but — well, you didn’t seem to be with anyone . . .”

The man was small, chubby, bald; his face had a dirty growth of beard and he looked out of tiny eyes encased in bulging contacts. He was bare to the waist. His white, hairless chest drooped and turned in folds at the stomach. Softly, more subtle than the barboy had done, he put his porky stubs of fingers into a suggestive rhythm.

Jesse smiled. “Thanks for the drink,” he said. “But I really am expecting someone.”

“Oh?” the man said. “Someone — special?”

“Pretty special,” Jesse said smoothly, now that the words had become automatic. “He’s my fiancé.”

“I see.” The man frowned momentarily and then brightened. “Well, I thought to myself. I said, E. J., you don’t actually think a beauty like that would be unattached, do you?’ But, it was certainly worth the old college try. Sorry.”

“Perfectly all right,” Jesse said. The predatory little eyes were rolling, the fingers dancing in one last ditch attempt. “Good evening, Mr. Hobart.”

Jesse felt slightly amused this time: it was the other kind, the intent ones, the humorless ones like the barboy, who revolted him, turned him ill, made him want to take a knife and carve unspeakable ugliness into his own smooth, aesthetic face.

The man shrugged; “Good evening!” and waddled away, crabwise.

Now the club was becoming more crowded. It was getting later and heads full of liquor shook away the inhibitions of the earliest hours. Jesse tried not to watch, but he had long ago given up trying to rid himself of his fascination. So he watched the men together. The pair over in the far corner, pressed close together, dancing with their bodies, never moving their feet, swaying in slow, lissome movements to the music… The couple seated by the bar: one a Beast, the other a Hunter. The Beast old, his cheeks caked hard and cracking with powder and liniments, the perfume rising from his body like steam; the Hunter, young but unhandsome, the fury evident in his eyes, the hurt anger at having to make do with a paid companion, and such an ugly one. From time to time the Hunter would look around, wetting his lips in shame. . . . And those two just coming in, dressed in Mother’s uniforms, tanned, mustached, proud of their station . . .

Jesse held the beads apart. Mina must come soon! He wanted to run from this place, out into the air, into the darkness and silence.

No. He just wanted Mina. To see her, touch her, listen to the music of her voice . . .
Two women came in, arm in arm, Beast and Hunter, drunk. They were stopped at the door. The manager swept by Jesse’s booth, muttering about them, asking why they should want to come to the Phallus when they had their own sections, their own clubs . . .

Jesse pulled his head back inside. He’d become used to the light by now, so he closed his eyes against his multiplied image. The disorganized sounds of love got louder, the sing-song syrup of voices: high-pitched, throaty, baritone, falsetto. It was crowed now. The Orgies would begin before long and the couples would pair off for the cubicles. He hated the place. But close to Orgy-time you didn’t get noticed here; and where else was there to go? Outside, where every inch of pavement was patrolled electronically, every word of conversation, every movement recorded, catalogued, filed?

Damn Knudsen! Damn the little man! Thanks to him, to the Senator, Jesse was now a criminal. Before, it hadn’t been so bad: not this bad, anyway. You were laughed at and shunned and fired from your job, and sometimes kids threw stones at you, but at least you weren’t hunted. Now — it was a crime. It was a sickness.

He remembered when Knudsen had taken over. It had been one of the little man’s first telecasts; in fact, it was the platform that had got him the majority vote:
“. . . Vice is on the upswing in our great city. In the dark corners of every Unit perversion blossoms like an evil flower. Our children are exposed to its stink, and they wonder — our children wonder — why nothing is done to put a halt to this disgrace. We have ignored it long enough! The time has come for action, not mere words. The perverts who infest our land must be flushed out, eliminated completely, as a threat not only to public morals but to society at large. These sick people must be cured and made normal. The disease that throws men and women together in this dreadful abnormal relationship and leads to acts of retrogression — retrogression that will, unless it is stopped and stopped fast, lead us inevitably back to the status of animals — this is to be considered as any other disease. It must be conquered as heart trouble, cancer, polio, all other diseases have been conquered . . .”

The Women’s Senator had taken Knudsen’s lead and issued a similar pronunciamento and then the bill had become law and the law was carried out.

Jesse sipped at his whiskey, remembering the Hunts. How the frenzied mobs had gone through the city at first, chanting, yelling, bearing placards with slogans: “Wipe out the heteros!” “Kill the Queers!” “Make our city clean again!” And how they’d lost interest finally after the passion had worn down and the novelty had ended. But they had killed many and they had sent many more to the hospitals . . .

He remembered the nights of running and hiding, choked dry breath cutting his throat, heart rattling loose. He had been lucky. He didn’t look like a hetero. They said you could tell one just by watching him walk — but Jesse walked correctly. He fooled them. He was lucky. And he was a criminal. He, Jesse Martin, no different from the rest, tube-born and machine-nursed, raised in the Character Schools like everyone else — was terribly different from the rest.

It had been on his first formal date that he became aware of this difference, that it crystallized. The man had been a Rocketeer, the best high quality, and frighteningly handsome. “Mother” had arranged it, the way he arranged everything. carefully, proving and re-proving that he was worthy of the Mother’s uniform. There was the dance. And then the ride in the space-sled. The big man had put an arm about Jesse and — Jesse knew. He knew for certain and it made him very angry and very sad.

He remembered the days that came after the knowledge: bad days, days fallen upon evil, black desires, deep-cored frustrations. He had tried to find a friend at the Crooked Clubs that flourished then, but it was no use. There was a sensationalism, a bravura to these people that he could not love. The sight of men and women together, too shocked the parts of him he could not change, and disgusted him. Then the vice-squads had come and closed up the clubs and the heteros were forced underground and he never sought them out again or saw them. He was alone.
The beads tinkled.

“Jesse.”

He looked up, quickly, afraid. Then his fear vanished.

 A figure stood outlined against the curtains, quietly. A small, soft, clean figure, a softness there, and a cleanliness, cutting and dissipating the dark asylum of his memories like sudden sunlight, with all the good warmth of sunlight, and all the brightness. Mina.

She wore a loose man’s shirt, an old hat that hid her golden hair: her face was shadowed by the turned lip collar. Through the shirt the rise and fall of her breasts could be faintly detected. She smiled once, nervously.

Jesse looked out the curtain. Without speaking, he put his hands about her soft, thin shoulders and held her like this for a long minute.

“Mina—” She looked away. He pulled her chin forward and ran a finger along her lips. Then he pressed her body to his, tightly, touching her neck, her back, kissing her forehead, her eyes, kissing her mouth.

She pulled her head back and sat down, staring at the table. “Don’t do that, please don’t.” she said.

Jesse opened his mouth, closed it abruptly as the curtains parted.

“Order, sir?’’

“Beer,” Jesse said, winking at the bar boy, who tried to come closer, to see the one loved by this handsome stranger.

“Two beers. Yes, sir.”

The barboy looked at Mina very hard, but she had turned and he could see only the back. Jesse held his breath. The barboy smiled contemptuously then, a smile that said: You’re insane — I was hired for my beauty; I know that I am beautiful, hundreds would be proud to have me, and you turn me down for this bag of bones . . .

Jesse winked again, shrugged suggestively, and danced his fingers: Tomorrow, my friend. I’m stuck tonight. Can’t help it. Tomorrow.

The barboy paused a moment, grinned briefly with understanding, and left. In a few minutes he returned with the beer. “On the house,” he said, for Mina’s benefit.

She turned only when Jesse said, softly, “It’s all right. He’s gone now.”

He looked at her, at the pain in her face, and the fear; hard lines that lied about the love that was between them and had been for all these months. He reached over and took off the hat. Long tresses of blonde hair spilled out splashing over the rough shirt.

She grabbed for the hat. “We mustn’t,” she said. “Please. What if somebody came in?”

“No one will come in. I told you that.”

“But what if someone does? I don’t know. I don’t like it here. That man at the door, he almost recognized me.”

“But he didn’t.”

“Almost, though. And then what?”

“Forget it. Mina, for God’s sake. Let’s not quarrel.”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Jesse. It’s only that meeting you like this makes me feel . . .’’

“What?”

“Dirty.” She spoke the word defiantly, and lifted her eyes to his.

“You don’t really believe that, do you?”

“No. I suppose not: I don’t know, any more.” She hesitated. “Maybe if we could be alone together, I—”

Jesse took out a cigarette and began to use the table lighter. Then he cursed and threw the phallic object under the chair and crushed the cigarette. “You know that’s impossible,” he said. The idea of separate Units for homes had disappeared, of course, to be replaced by giant dormitories. There were no more parks, no country lanes. There was no place to hide at all now, thanks to Senator Knudsen, to the little spearhead of these great new sociological reforms. “This is all we have.” Jesse threw a sardonic look around the booth, with its carved symbols and framed pictures of entertainment stars all naked and leering.

They were silent for a time, hands interlocked on the tabletop. Then the girl began to cry. “I—I can’t go on like this,” she said. “I can’t. Jesse, listen; I came here tonight to tell you—”
“I know. I know how awful it is for you. But what else can we do?” He tried to keep the hopelessness out of his voice.

“We could—’’ the girl started, and seemed to change her mind. “Maybe we should have gone underground with the rest, right at the first.”

“And hide there, like rats?’’ Jesse said.

“We’re hiding here, aren’t we,” Mina demanded, adding, “like rats!”

He sighed. He could not remember seeing her quite so unhappy. Things had never been exactly right, never perfect, because she had always seemed to fight her instincts. Even her affection for him since that first time when he made her admit it, pried it loose from her. But he had thought this could be conquered . . . No; don’t think about it. Think about now, and how beautiful she is, how warm and vibrant and soft.

“It’s necessary,” he said. “Parner is getting ready to crack down. I know, Mina: I work at Centraldome, after all.

In a little while there won’t be any underground. He has a list of names a mile long already.”
Then, suddenly, the girl said. “I love you,” and leaned forward, parting her lips for a kiss. “Jesse. I do.” She closed her eyes. “And I’ve tried to be strong, just like you told me to be. But they wouldn’t leave us alone. They wouldn’t stop. Just because we’re qu. ..”

“Mina! I’ve said it before — don’t ever use that word!” His voice was harsh; he pushed her away. “It isn’t true! We’re not the queers. You’ve got to believe that. Years ago it was normal for men and women to love each other: they married and had children together; that’s the way it was. Don’t you remember anything of what I’ve told you?”

The girl stared downward. “Of course I do. I do, really. But it was such a long time ago.”
“Not so long! Where I work — listen to me — they have books. You know, I told you about books? I’ve read them, Mina. I learned what the words meant from other books. It’s only been since the use of artificial insemination — not even five hundred years ago.”

“Yes,” the girl said, sighing. “I’m sure that’s true.”

“Mina, stop it! We are not the unnatural ones, no matter what they say. I don’t know exactly how it happened — maybe as women gradually became equal to men in every way — or maybe solely because of the way we’re born — I don’t know. But the point is darling, the whole world was like us, once. Even now,” he said, desperately, “look at the animals.”

“Jesse, don’t you dare talk as though we’re like those horrible little dogs and cats and things.”
Jesse took a deep swallow of his drink. He had tried so often to tell her, show her, make her see. But he knew what she thought, really. She thought she was exactly what, the authorities told her she was.

God, maybe that’s how they all think, all the Crooked People, all the “un-normal ones” . . .
The girl’s hands caressed his arms and the touch of them became strange to him. I love you, Mr. Martin, even though you do have two heads . . .

Forget it, he thought. Never mind. She’s a woman, a very satisfying, desirable woman, and she may think you’re both freaks, but you know different, indeed you do, you know she’s wrong, just as they’re all wrong . . .

Or, he wondered, are you the insane person of old days who was insane because he was so sure he wasn’t insane because —

“Disgusting!”

It was the fat man, the smiling masher, E. J. Hobart. But he wasn’t smiling now. Jesse got up quickly and stepped in front of Mina. “What do you want?” he said. “I thought I told you—”
The man pulled a metal identification disk from his trunks. “Vice-squad, my friend,” he said. “Better sit down.”

The man’s arm went out through the curtain and two other men came in, equipped with weapons.
“I’ve been watching you quite a while. Mister,” the man said. “Quite a while.” “Look,” Jesse said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. 1 work at Centraldome and I’m seeing Miss Kirkpatrick here on some business.”

“We know all about that kind of business,” the man said.

“All right — I’ll tell you the truth. I forced her to come here. She didn’t want to, but I—”

“Mister, didn’t you hear me? I said I’ve been watching you. Let’s go.”

One man took Mina’s arm, roughly; the other two began to propel Jesse out through the club. Heads turned. Tangled bodies moved embarrassedly.

“It’s all right,” the fat man said, his white skin glistening with perspiration. “It’s all right, folks. Go on back to whatever you were doing.” He grinned and tightened his grip on Jesse’s wrist.

Mina, Jesse noticed, did not struggle. He looked at her and felt something suddenly freeze into him. She had been trying to tell him something all evening, but he hadn’t let her. Now he knew what he had feared. He knew what she had come to tell him: that even if they hadn’t been caught, she would have submitted to the Cure voluntarily. No more worries then, no more guilt. No more tender moments, either, but wasn’t that a small price to pay, when she could live the rest of her life without feeling shame and dirt? Yes. it was a small price, now that the midnight dives and brief meetings were all they had left.

She did not meet his look as they took her out into the street. He watched her and thought of the past when they had been close, and he wanted to scream.

“You’ll be okay,” the fat man was saying. He opened the wagon’s doors. “They’ve got it down pat now — couple days in the ward, one short session with the doctors; take out a few glands, make a few injections, attach a few wires to your head, turn on a machine: presto! You’ll be surprised.”

The fat officer leaned close. His sausage fingers danced wildly near Jesse’s face.

“It’ll make a new man of you,” he said.

Then they closed the doors and locked them.