American Legion

OK. Guess where I was on September 11th this year, (which also happens to be patriot day). No, I wasn't out burning flags---I spent the evening at a Raleigh post of the American Legion. Their strange little shack is about the scariest place you can imagine: the sign is shaped not unlike the blade of a circular saw, the the whole place looks like it was very... hill-billy-home-made, and the sagging roof had a couple of beer cans perched on top. After I drove up the winding gravel drive, I parked and meandered over to the entrance. I was greeted by Ms. Honeycutt, a nice little old lady, who was quite a contrast to the terrifying man standing behind her: he was about 6 feet tall, wearing a leather vest, and he had the most sunken, hollow eyes I've ever had the misfortune to stare into. I said, "Good evening sir", but he just looked at me blankly. He had the aura of a person whose life hasn't gone quite the way they hoped it would. After I darted past them to grab my name-tag, I hurried away to find a friendlier face. Who should I see but Jo! She had brought her sister along and they were both wearing the dreaded Girls' State polos.

I suppose I ought to back up: the entire reason for my presence at this terrifying hide-out was to (a.) tell the Legionnaires how much I loved Girls' State, and (b.) thank them ever s0 much for sending me. A member of the American Legion Auxiliary, or as I like to call it, "The Crazy Conservative Confederation", called me and asked me straight up, "What was you favorite part of Girls' State?" Initially I assumed that it was an idle question so I gave a saccharine statement about how much I loved the program and how wonderful it was to meet new people. Then she informed that I would be talking about it in a speech for the American Legion. Yeah. Ugh. I quickly had an about-face and told her I was fascinated by learning about lobbying.

I know I could have told her that I was going to be out of town, but I didn't, and my reasons were not entirely noble: I had visited the creepy Legion post once before, and I wanted to get a photo of it. Sadly, the photos were accidentally deleted... Also, this place is so far out in the boonies that GoogleMaps hasn't got a street view for it!

Anyway: Point is that I went, and it was unpleasant. They crowded about 25 of us over on the far side for the benefit of perhaps 3 old Legionnaires. Several blowhards stood at the front of the admittedly small room and used a microphone--it was uncalled for. They could have whispered and we would have heard them just fine. After they had rambled on for a bit, we recited some patriotic tripe and prayed several times. Yes--praying once was not enough for God to hear us. Maybe the call was dropped. If so, they should have their prayer-provider looked into. After sitting quietly for what seemed like an eternity, the march of falsely enthusiastic participants began. Each girl walked up the microphone and desperately tried to think of something to say. Some seemed to have genuinely enjoyed it; in fact, one girl went on for about 5 minutes about how much it had increased her patriotism and how much more she loves Murkuh now. Oy.

When I got up to the microphone, I was sorely tempted to use it as an opportunity to give them all a piece of my mind. I wanted to share with them my distaste for extreme patriotism. I wanted to make them see how ridiculous the whole idea is. I didn't. I said something about how I'd enjoyed every aspect of the program and thanked them for giving me the opportunity. They all smiled like self-satisfied toads and leaned back in their chairs basking in the glow of being appreciated by a whole bunch of young people. Perhaps that's a bit harsh... less like toads... more like fat cats. I can't really badmouth them because as I left, they gave me a doughnut.

mmm...tasty...

Pistachio Pudding is God

My week in the wilderness was awesome. There were breath-taking views etc etc... It's more fun to talk about what bugged me though. The younger girls were slowly but surely killing me. One randomly whacked another in the arm and then they started going at it. Their ridiculous argument continued on loudly for several minutes. Several minutes too many. I shan't claim that I have a high tolerance for loud, short creatures. "STOP IT RIGHT NOW! What is wrong with you?" "She started it!" "Yeah, but she continued it." "I don't CARE I'm finishing it." Another girl pretty much latched on to me. It was constantly "Jessie come over here." or frantic hand gestures to come closer whenever I was talking to somebody else. It was just plain weird.... "I can give you a foot massage!" "umm.... no thanks... that's really nice of you though..." or "Gosh, I keep talking to you like you're my sister!" "um..." Her sister is quite pleasant. Go figure.

Zoe (one of the leaders) was driving me crazy. Once, she walked up to me just as I had finished putting up my tent (complete with groundcloths and nigh-impossible to drive in stakes) and started saying "well... I don't know about this spot. that tree might come down any second."
"No, Zoe, I don't think it will. I shook it myself and it's also alive." "well, I still don't know." "Zoe, I'm pretty sure we'll be okay here." "well... If it were my tent..." "okay, where do you suggest?" "ah, ah,ah! don't ask me! You're supposed to be doing this on your own!" *Jessie thinks to herself: God damn you, you crazy old lady!* I take down the tent and move the whole shebang to less desireable rocky spot where she says: "This looks better!" "uh... Zoe? See that monster log caught in the crook of those limbs? There is no way in heck I am putting a tent under that. It sways in the wind." "oh. Why don't you move it back a bit" I do so... "Good" says Zoe. "Umm.. actually this is surrounded by a bunch of dead trees. They're wobbling." "Well, that looks like a good spot over there." Zoe points at the spot where I originally had it. She wasted a good 15 minutes of my precious time before dark. Time that I needed. I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE CUTE, YET STRONG-MINDED LITTLE OLD LADY!!

All in all: Good times were had.