Day 11

Hiking on Sunday was a success. Up here, success is marked by not

being eaten by a bear. Before we went Brooke gave us bear spray, an extensive bear safety talk, and her dog Nuna. We made lots of noise, and we saw no bears, but lots of bear poop.

On Monday, Nick, Katie and I went on the Kenai Fjords adventures tour. It took up to the Ailak Glacier for Old Fox Island for a very large and delicious dinner. We saw so much wildlife, it was incredible. We saw sea otters, seals, sea lions, puffin birds, orcas, and humpback whales. The orcas were the most exciting.

Orcas live with their families forever. When it comes time to mate, two families come together and the males leave briefly, mate with the females, and then return to their families. Three families saw right next to our boat over about a fifteen-minute period. When we were getting off of the boat at Fox Island for dinner, Katie is randomly like, “Oh, I dated that boy,” pointing at a guy on the Fox Island staff helping people off of the boat. I figured she was kidding since she was from D.C. and she had only briefly visited Alaska once before, but it turns out she wasn’t. So her boy ended up taking the evening off so he could come hang out with us for drinks. First we went to a bar that was decorated to look like an 80’s porno. They had a crazy collection of the annual Jim Bean memorabilia bottles. It was actually really cool. The second place that we went was very Alaskan. Unfortunately, we left just as Karaoke Night was starting up.

Also in the last few days I finished two great books. The first was Blue Cotton Gown, which is a memoir that was written by Patricia Harman, a nurse midwife. Brian and I heard her speak at an independent bookshop in Asheville. Her book was a collection of stories about her life and about the stories that of her patients over the years. I definitely recommend it.

The other was Dude, You’re a Fag. This one was about how homophobia is

intricately tied to notions of masculinity and how ritualized events in high school (e.g., proms, pep rallies, talent shows, and homecoming) reinforce those connections. It was also a really interesting read.

Yesterday I had a split shift, where I work in the morning, have some time off in the

afternoon, and then am a server at night for dinner. Darla told me that this job usually requires khaki pants. I hate khaki pants. I have flashbacks to fifth grade, The

Matthew Years, when my mother would insist that I needed to wear my khakis to church on Sundays, that my typical sweatpant-and-tee-shirt attire was absolutely acceptable. When I told her that,

no, I did not own khaki pants, she tried to see if I could borrow Lauren’s. Even though I was entirely confident that they were not going to fit, she made me try them on and present myself to pr

ove that they were so big, that it would

actually be much more professional of me to wear my jeans that actually

fit rather than Lauren’s pants which hung around me knees, too big for any belt to fix. But she said I need to “find” khaki pants soon. FML. Khaki pants are the color of snot and will never look anything less than

hideous on me. My plan is to have my mother go to Gap and try on khaki pants and tell me what size fits. I think we are about the same size, so I will hopefully be able to order them online. Ugh. Stupid khakis.