Surreal Estate

Selected Memories

2014-01-21T13:25:00.000-08:00

"You Can't Go Home Again" is a novel by Thomas Wolfe, but the title is probably more famous than the book itself. I only quote it because it pertains to a recent trip I made back to Sin City and the scene of 'crimes' as such'; although I'd argue that the only crimes committed were those I committed against myself.

Back in November 2011 when I first started this journal, I had lost nearly all of my possessions, including my camera. That deprived me of the chance to illustrate some of my postings with pictures of some of the neighborhoods and various locations I frequented during my period of homelessness (hm, maybe a better title for this post might have been "You Can't Go Homeless Again"). Unfortunately, I couldn't take pictures inside the Salvation Army headquarters where I spent a lot of time during my rehabilitation, as such.

However, in the picture below you can see the exterior of that building located on Owens Avenue in North Las Vegas. That large building behind the trees houses almost all the SA's operations: The first floor contains administrative, kitchens, learning centers, recreational and mess areas. The second and third floors comprise the dorm areas for men and women. The basement contains laundry and maintenance services. I spent time in almost every service area on every floor.

While you can see one or two homeless figures in the foreground, there are dozens more located just up the sidewalk. That's where they hang out waiting for the free daily meals. I did actually try to snap a few pics of them, but essentially got chased off by a few guys who took exception to my 'invasing their privacy" as they put it. There were several other stragglers milling about directly across the street from here. During the late afternoons and evenings that entire sidewalk is often crowded with the homeless and their various accouterments: Suitcases, bags, trunks, cardboard boxes flattened for sleeping on the sidewalk, and the occasional dog or cat.

Jerry's Nugget Casino, a 50-year fixture of North Las Vegas, is pictured above. It often served as a place of respite from the SA campus although I'd still see plenty of familiar faces here. Many guys from SA had hardcore gambling addictions and would come here to play the slots, 21, or place various sports bets. They would rarely drink here, however; SA always performs Breathalyzer tests upon returning to their property. If a client tested positive they were temporarily evicted from the dorms and made to spend 24 hours on the streets ... Reason enough for abstinence, imo.

The homeless roam up and down these streets (N. Las Vegas Blvd. is pictured here) 24/7. It's likely one reason the security personnel in the casino cast a wary eye on anyone who enters the building. Many -- like myself -- visited the place mainly to use their restroom facilities. Given that many of the indigent tend to use such facilities to bathe or wash their filthy laundry ... well, you get the idea. Needless to say, the whole area is rife with all forms of vice, the most common being drug dealing and prostitution.

The Palomino Club (pictured above) is across the street from Jerry's Nugget and has been world famous since '69 ... what a coincidence. Another of the area's landmarks. I was never out late enough to see any of the dancers arrive. I did see a number of homeless guys camping out in front during the day, though. Maybe they thought they'd get lucky.

Another view of Owens Ave, facing west. The SA building is farther up on the left. A church is just to the right. Charitable groups often set up stations for free food, water, clothing, etc. adjacent to that building.

It was interesting to return to this area after approximately a year and a half at the Grand Canyon. This urban area seemed more bleak and barren than I recalled; perhaps it only seemed to because I've grown so accustomed to the open spaces and magnificent vistas of the GC. But there's a barrenness of spirit here as well, as though this part of Las Vegas has absorbed the desperation and hopelessness of its indigent inhabitants, and reflected it back. I don't know how it happened but you could call this area a kind of Mecca for the dispossessed; somehow, they all make the pilgrimage here ... and often stay.

That might be thing that affected me most during my brief return visit: That I saw so many familiar faces still there, going through the same motions and repeating the same behaviors as they had when I last saw them some 18 months ago. Funny ... I felt something like a conquering hero when I first returned there. After all, I had departed Vegas on a Greyhound bus with a few hundred dollars to my name. I returned in my own car, still gainfully employed and doing pretty well (and had a few more hundred dollars to my name, lol).

But that sense of triumph dissolved into a kind of despondence after walking along once familiar sidewalks and streets. I'm out of harmony with that area, its inhabitants and it attendant lifestyle now -- which is a good thing. But to see so many people essentially exactly where I had left them after my time away, well, let's say I cut short my visit earlier than I had intended. Sadly, from what I saw during my sojourn in Sin City, the homeless situation is likely worse, not better.

And Your Humble Narrator? Much like The Dude, Your Humble Narrator abides. More pics, reflections and an off-putting encounter coming up ...

X-Men Days Of Future Past Trailer: Marvel's Mutant Melange

2013-10-31T11:47:00.002-07:00

The trailer for X-Men Days of Future Past dropped recently, and it's shaping up to be a merry Marvel mutant epic. See it here for yourself! (Check to Wolverine poster ... Logan ages into Clint Eastwood!)

Marvel's Captain America The Winter Soldier Trailer Hints At A Cold Warrior

2013-10-28T12:56:00.001-07:00

The trailer for Marvel's Captain America: The Winter Soldier dropped recently, and it appears to take a darker look at Cap's involvement with SHIELD. As Cap clashes with Nick Fury we can detect hints of a conspiracy brewing within the super spy organization. So who better to portray the big kahuna of SHIELD (and apparently Fury's superior) than Robert Redford, who starred in Three Days of the Condor, one of the all time great conspiracy thrillers. (Click here for an interview with Redford that might reveal a SPOILER)

Redford's casting brings some gravitas to the screen and manages to ground Cap in a more politically charged espionage role; one in which he may have to choose between the Company's agenda and following his own instincts. If nothing else, the addition of Redford infuses this Captain America sequel with enough star power to rival that of Marvel's The Avengers. Along with Chris Evans as Steve Rogers/Cap, Samuel L. Jackson (Nick Fury) and Scarlett Johansson (Black Widow) reprise their Avengers roles, while Anthony Mackie (The Hurt Locker) makes his debut as The Falcon.

Other things to look for in the trailer: A new variation on Cap's costume, a hellacious display of hand-to-hand combat inside an elevator, a SHIELD Heli-carrier taking a massive swan dive, and the return of Bucky Barnes.

Marvel's Captain America The Winter Soldier opens April 4, 2014.

Grand Canyon Definitely Reopens (for a Week -- Maybe) During Government Shutdown

2013-10-12T10:23:00.000-07:00

So the good news is, the park has reopened during the government shutdown. The bad news is, the park may only stay open for a week. Read the link here which explains how the GC and some other national parks and landmarks have found a way to reopen in the midst of this political deadlock. Most of the deals involve the individual states coughing up the cash to the feds in order to make this happen. Kind of makes you wonder if the individual states shouldn't run their own parks systems.

But enough of that fluff. What you really want to know is: How do these events affect Your Humble Narrator? Well, as of this writing, I've received no word as to my (re) employment status. Understand, too that my base of operations (El Tovar) won't reopen until this evening. I usually operate the banquets for the tour buses (most often from Caravan Tours) that roll through the park; as of yet there's no word on when they might be arriving).

It's a long road ... is there an end in sight?

.

In the meantime, I guess YHN will content himself with video games and, ah ... various forms of adult entertainment.

Top Ten List of Government Shutdown Gripes at the Grand Canyon

2013-10-11T12:45:00.000-07:00

Your Humble Narrator sez: Follow this link!

Holding Up During A Government Shutdown

2013-10-05T12:34:00.002-07:00

So you've no doubt heard all about the federal government shutdown. Yes, there are far-ranging effects and impacts that will ripple out from the deadlock in DC. Naturally, the most important question you're asking yourself is How, exactly, does all this affect Your Humble Narrator? Well, read on and I'll try to give you some insights into life in a national park during a government shutdown.

Realize this is my first experience of being directly affected by the gears of government grinding to a halt (and being caught in the gear teeth). In the past I had always joked, "Hell, even if there is a government shutdown ... how can you tell the difference?" Realize, too, that the Grand Canyon is more than a mere national park ... It's considered on of the Seven Natural Wonders of the World. As such, the GC receives on average approximately 5 million visitors annually. As you'd expect all those visitors generate a lot of noise and traffic; indeed, the clots of tourists jamming the narrow sidewalks and crowding the cafeterias, restaurants and buses can become downright frustrating.

So the second thing you notice upon park closure is the sudden quiet that falls over the area. Once guests were barred from entering, the GC and its small community (GC Village) quickly resembles a ghost town. The sidewalks are bare. The shuttle buses have stopped running, leaving only sparse local traffic on the roads. The majority of restaurants, gift shops and other businesses have been shuttered. And because of the sudden quiet, the deer, elk and other creatures native are less shy about moving about the park. Kind of ironic in that all these animals are on display and there's no visitors here to see them!

Sign(s) of the times

By the way, the first thing you notice is the sense of disbelief among the employees that the GC was actually closed for business. I doubt anyone here seriously expected the government shutdown to occur. (As one co-worker eloquently stated: "There's no way they'll shut this f**kin' park!" Well, live and learn.) So it's taken a few days for the realization to settle in. And that begs the question. How are we settling in?

The first day of closure (Wednesday October 2) actually occurred on a payday. So for the first night there was a lot of partying. Regular readers of this blog -- both of them -- might recall the circumstance in which most of us workers live: In dorms, usually two in a room with communal bath and showers. While the housing provided by our employer Xanterra are certainly cost efficient, it also presents its share of challenges ... you might say you get what you pay for.

A quick recap on the subject: I've never been a fan of roommates to begin with. Many of your dorm mates tend to be, unkind as it may sound, challenged either physically or mentally. There is a lot of alcoholism and drug abuse in the dorms. Many of the workers are culled from the streets (as in homeless) and often bring their unhygienic habits and oddball behaviors with them. Because of this, bedbugs are rampant in the dorms, along with a lot of shouting and yelling (usually an outgrowth of these guys talking to themselves) Many of these people have difficulty with the English language, either because of speech impediments or too many missing teeth.

This portion of the South Rim Trail is usually packed with visitors

So back to that first day. A lot of these guys blew their paychecks on booze and other illegal substances, which kept them partying until the wee hours. I that heard a few fights broke out and National Park Service rangers had to be called (a common occurrence -- at least the rangers are still on the clock) The following nights have gotten quieter; I expect many of the partyers are running low on cash as so many of them seem to live paycheck to paycheck ... and there are no cash loan companies up here.

On Thursday (October 3), Xanterra took a neighborly step in announcing free meals for its employees (breakfast, lunch, dinner) and suspending dorm rent for three weeks. The meals are served in one central location (Maswik Cafeteria) as other facilities have been closed. It's over a mile away from where my dorm is located but the weather is brisk and clear these days and I don't mind walking. Besides, it's free food, right? I've tried to take as much advantage as possible of the offer. (Interestingly, I've heard complaints from co-workers about the limited menu and lack of 'acceptable substitutes' available. I reiterate: it's free food. Besides, they set up free wi-fi and resumed limited shuttle service for employees.

The cafeteria was packed the first couple days but attendance seems to be falling; maybe the novelty is fading or people are getting tired of the food. Or it could be that people are just getting antsy at having to adjust to a strange reality: Trapped in a limbo of being out of work while still being employed. Along that line, there was a recent meeting about how to file for Arizona unemployment benefits if the shutdown keeps dragging on.

Your Humble Narrator seems to be a bit lonely these days

If you remember the 1978 film "Days of Heaven", one of the characters remarked that she's "been thinking what to do wit' (her) future". I think that quote applies to many of us here in the GC. Particularly as this federal impasse persists, I'm examining my options. While many here pass the time arguing about who's to blame (Republicans, Democrats, etc.) it's all a moot point in my opinion. The fact is, Your Humble Narrator is losing money every day and, frankly, misses the routine of going to work. If nothing else he has discovered how important a regular routine is.

What happens in a closed community like this is that you tend to see the same faces over and over. That happens even when things are operating normally. Now, with the majority of hourly workers left with nothing to do and nowhere to go, those faces are in your face constantly. You see them in the cafeteria, in the dorm, in the rec center, and so on. Apply this to dealing with those *ahem* eccentric dorm-mates I earlier mention and you can connect the dots: Familiarity breeds the utmost contempt.

Hopefully there's some brighter days ahead!

The free food/free rent deal is good for three weeks. I asked one of my managers what happens if the government shutdown goes on longer than three weeks. "Then they start laying off managers" was the reply, and that's bad news for hourly employees. Only essential services and workers would remain, and that would likely be comprised of skeleton crews. Hopefully, there'll be some progress in reopening the national parks and we can all get back to work.

For now, there's a lot of people holding their breath because they've got families to feed and bills to pay. About the only thing that's certain right now is that despite how events turn out, the Grand Canyon will still be here. At least you can count on that.

Unless the government shuts it down ...

Canyoneering XI: Names Have Been Changed

2013-07-14T15:48:00.000-07:00

I've remarked upon this before but it bears mentioning again: Time seems to pass at a slower ace here in the Grand Canyon. Likely it's due to the relative remoteness of this location, or the fact that I don't have a TV to keep me abreast of daily happenings. But when you live here it's not uncommon to completely lose track of which day it is. Living in larger cities certain days had their distinct 'feel'; Monday felt like you had a Vise-Grip clamped around your head, while Friday and Saturday felt like the Grip had been released. In the GC one day feels pretty much like every other day: Bland and immobile in its passage. Difficult to say what accounts for this chronological phenomenon ... Maybe it has to do with the very timelessness of the Canyon itself.

Looking back over this course of this blog it's evident how m. intermittent my entries have become. There are a few reasons for this, actually. Admittedly, I'm not as desperate now as I was in 2011 when I started to chronicle my struggles with homelessness and my attempts to regain a 'normal' life. If you believe that desperation breeds creativity then you likely buy the idea that comfort breeds complacency. I expect you can make the argument for or against that idea. Probably more the case that I've gotten settled into a routine and have been either too preoccupied or too lazy to make regular updates to this blog.

Another reason is less airy and perhaps complimentary after a fashion. It seems that several of my fellow employees here in the GC have actually been reading this damn thing. Yes, it seems that Your Humble Narrator has garnered a few new recruits to this blog. I usually post updates via Facebook more out of habit than the expectation that anyone will actually follow the link. To my surprise, a few co-workers (including a manager where I work) remarked to me that they had read this blog; one had seen the link on FB after all, and told a few other people -- never discount the power of word of mouth, I guess.

I felt a flush of pride when told they enjoyed reading the entries here. A few asked me confidentially if all these events had really occurred (they did) and how I managed to turn things around (still a work in progress to be honest). I'll admit I briefly had visions of myself reading accounts of this blog to a rapt audience in some theater (off-Broadway in NYC if you really want to know). But a manager said something that broke my literary fantasy: "Hey, you're not gonna write any shit about ME in that fuckin' blog of yours, right?"

While he said it in an amiable manner, the remark did raise a few flags: If co-workers are actually reading this thing, then I'll have to be much more selective about the events I choose to relate here. That means carefully editing locations, people, events, occurrences (and attendant dates/times), etc. so as to ensure as much anonymity as possible. While I might be overreacting, I'm very much aware of how people have sealed their fates by relating too much information(personal, professional, etc) online. Indeed, I know of a few folks here who were fired after managers saw postings on Facebook (and other online forums) concerning how much weed they smoked before going to work in the park. (One genius even posted pics of his custom-made bong collection. I'm tempted to say that worker's career went up in smoke ... but I won't.)

I'd like to believe I'm a bit more circumspect that that. Still, I prefer to err on the side of caution, which is why my productivity has waned over the past few months. Rest assured, I'm still recording my day to day activities and dutifully logging daily events. But most of that is being transcribed offline. Hopefully I can manage to relate more stories by creatively editing names, events and circumstances to the point of overall anonymity. It might make for storytelling that seems a bit generic by contrast but at least the stories can be related to my readers.

And for any co-workers who might be reading this, allow me to paraphrase the announcer on Dragnet: The story you're reading is true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent -- and Your Humble Narrator!

Canyoneering X: Adapt And Overcome

2013-06-06T13:08:00.003-07:00

It's a funny thing about human nature. It seems that no matter how bad things get, or how good things get, we usually manage to adapt to the situation. I mention this because it's been nearly a year since I arrived in the Grand Canyon. At the time I wasn't sure if I could last one month, let alone an entire year.

As my readers (both of them) might recall, I was recovering from some major disruptions in my life: Major depression and, more seriously, the homelessness that resulted from said condition. Despite the sudden shift in lifestyle -- going from being a successful, self-sufficient professional voice actor to being cast adrift in the street and finally washing up on the shores of the Salvation Army -- I found that, somehow, I could adapt to the situation. To be honest, I admit this with a mix of pride and horror. Yet it might explain how many people seem to stay mired in desperate situations: Somehow they adapt, and eventually accept those circumstances in which they find themselves.

In my case, I knew I wanted to turn things around. So to an extent I couldn't accept certain adverse circumstances. I expect that's what led me to follow through with SA's rehab program and continue through with this gig at the GC. Still, I found myself settling into the everyday routines of SA and their classes. I seemed to adapt and accept everything that came with it. Indeed, Your Humble Narrator came to accept things which, in his former life, would have too extraordinary to fathom: Being friends with ex-cons, druggies and oddballs of all sorts would be an example.

And along with that acceptance came a kind of subsumption in terms of attitudes and emotions. When I first arrived at SA I was emotionally numb and oblivious to the 'personal static'' that surrounded me (and surrounds all of us in our own orbits). By that I mean the everyday interference of events ranging from the personal (dealing with friends or loved ones), to the professional (dealing with co-workers or deadlines) to the relatively minor (dealing with the asshole at the grocery store who insists on pushing a a full cart through the 10-items-or-less aisle).

At first I ignored all that stuff. Gradually, it seemed to filter into my awareness. Then as now, I find myself paying attention to all that static. Including but not limited to all the attendant gossip, petty jealousies, backbiting, hand-wringing, disappointments and other manner of distraction that goes along with living our everyday lives. In a sense, I guess you could call it a return to normalcy, as it involves a kind of social interaction and communication. Maybe all that distraction is necessary to function in our society.

Here in the GC there has been much to adapt to as well. The 7000+ feet elevation, the relative isolation of the park itself (nearest 'major city' Flagstaff being 80 miles away), and ... another collection of oddballs, weirdos and freaks who inhabit the dorms provided by Xanterra. It's no secret that many of these guys (and gals) exhibit any and all manner of social improprieties. This can be evidenced by maladjusted behavior ranging from profane and/or physically violent outbursts in public (one cook, when dealing with an elderly customer, called her a "sack of shit") to extreme partying in the wee hours or using their rooms as a toilet. Their social skills are so lacking you might say they have a social disease -- so to speak.

In the dorm where I live, we have a guy who apparently showers 6 times a day (while having loud conversations with himself) and another guy who takes around 45 minutes to rinse and gargle (again, several times a day). Another guy limps around with a hideously deformed foot (which looks leprous) and whose job description must include sitting around all day and blasting music as loud as possible, because that seems to be all he does -- and of course he's my next door neighbor.

Many of these guys like to bitch and moan about how unfair Xanterra is and how much they hate their respective jobs. Interesting, because most of those whiners have been there for at least 3-5 years. I and others have conjectured that many of these oddballs probably can't cope with the outside world. So they hole up in the GC where can find a community of similar eccentrics (to use a kind term) and where their quirks are tolerated, to a degree.

So I've learned to adapt to that as well. And to be honest it can be fascinating. Where else could I find such a collection of guys who look like they wandered straight outta Middle Earth?

Canyoneering 9: Active Effects

2013-04-21T13:47:00.000-07:00

No sooner did I title the previous installment "Winter in the Rearview Mirror" than we got hit with a late blast of snow and sub-zero temps. To be sure, Your Humble Narrator was not pleased at the prospect of digging through the white stuff and slipping yet again on icy pavements. Yet, the sudden storm lasted only half a day and all snow and ice were melted away within 48 hours. Now the Grand Canyon appears to be in springtime mode -- I think -- with high temps in the 60-70s range and clear, sunny skies. At any rate, the deer and elk seem convinced of nice weather; herds of the beasts are popping up everywhere I look.

Business has been picking up lately as well. In my capacity as a Banquet Steward I'm seeing many more tour groups arriving regularly for breakfast and dinner. The job basically entails setting up and breaking down eating areas for the guests. We also bus tables, serve coffee/tea, and refill water. I was recently cleared to run a cash register for the purpose of overseeing a cash bar run on the premises. Given that I've never run a register in my life and will be dealing with weary, booze-craving tourists, I'm curious to see what happens.

Being a BS (as such) isn't the most difficult job I've had. As far as day jobs go, it's fairly routine and sedate. There's a lot of detail work, such as setting tables, changing linens, restocking items, and so forth; simple enough but can be very time consuming. Preparations for the next days events are usually completed the night before. The work can be tedious but the gratuities help me maintain my interest. To be sure, however, there is a lot of manual labor involved with this gig.

We must carry large tables and chair up and down stairs. We must push and transport food and utility carts loaded with dishware and utensils to and from our serving area to the El Tovar Hotel where the items are unleaded and reloaded. In this higher elevation such exertion can take its toll on YHN. Indeed, I make no bones about the fact that I am no longer a young man. I figure such physical strain as this job entails would mean a year at most serving as a BS. After that, many of my favorite body parts may cease to function properly. Hopefully, that will give me the time necessary to reach my savings goal and push on.s

I admit that I have of late been thinking more often about leaving the Grand Canyon. The strange thing is that I have an odd sense of regret at the prospect of departing. You see, I actually do like it here ... well, sort of. The place offers some majestic scenery, to be sure. And I like the wide open spaces, the sharper air, and the sense of freedom such a huge national park offers. Still, the GC as a working/living environment offers some unique challenges. There are a number of, shall we say, unique personalities with which to contend.

The shorthand would be to say the employees comprise a lot of freaks and geeks. A fairer assessment might be that many of the employees here are lacking in the social graces. Such people seem to have trouble with holding casual conversations or managing to maintain their composure when dealing with higher-stress situations. Other people have a tendency to act unnecessarily rude or say inappropriate things (especially bad when dealing with the public. There's a lot of partying that goes on in the dorms, mostly drinking to excess, to the point where National Park Service rangers (the local police force or Barney Fifes as they're referred to here) are called to quell the disturbance.

I tend to turn a blind eye and/or deaf ear to a lot of the nonsense that goes on around here. After all, I've encountered many of these types of misfit personalities before, at Salvation Army. The difference was that the characters there weren't allowed access to booze. And there was much less tolerance for aberrant behavior than what Xanterra tends to exhibit. Still, to my employer's credit, they do have a zero tolerance policy on alcohol and drugs. If an employee tests positive during a random check (or upon any suspicion), that employee is summarily discharged on the spot.

If you recall the TV show Green Acres, and the town of Hooterville with all its oddball characters, you'll have some notion of the people you deal with here in the GC. And if you recall big city Oliver Douglas's (Eddie Albert) frustration and exasperation at dealing with the small town yokels, you might have some idea of how I feel when dealing with some of my Xanterra compatriots. All that's missing is Arnold the Pig (although we do have Bucky, a domesticated mule deer who roams outside our dorm). Now, if only I had a hot Hungarian babe, I'd be set!

At any rate, I do feel the desire for civilization puling at me ever more frequently. I do miss the voiceover work I left behind in Vegas. In a sense I've started a new career -- perhaps even a new life -- here in the GC. And you know something? It can be a good career, and a good life. But I don't know if it's necessarily my career or life. Were I a few decades younger, maybe so.

At this point, I find it rather late in life to make a true career switch into the food/restaurant industry. Sometimes it feels as if I've made a detour in my life, a temporary stopping off point. Maybe it's been necessary to gain some perspective; to take a breath, one might say. Interesting, because I seem to have garnered a rep here for being a good co-worker, easygoing, with a sense of humor. My performing background has allowed me to easily converse with guests and I've even thrown in a few celebrity impersonations (people tend to like my Sean Connery bit). I've met many people from all over the world, and made a number of friends in the process.

Yet I'm still chafing to get may to my real career(s). I've taken a small step, in managing to re-establish some of my writing contacts. The lousy Internet service here in the GC kind of puts a stopper on that, however. Still, it's been nice to resume some of my former work, if only on a small scale. Baby steps, I guess. But the time is coming for me to take a leap out of the Canyon. Funny, because I initially intended to stay here for six months, maximum. In all honesty, YHN finds that leaving the GC is a decision he is not so anxious to make.

Canyoneering 8: Winter In The Rear View Mirror

2013-04-03T12:08:00.001-07:00

Well, I'm nothing if not consistent in my tardiness regarding this blog. Just noticed that the last time I posted was the end of December. At that time the Grand Canyon was in its Arctic tundra phase: Snow, ice, overcast skies, ice-cold winds whipping right through you. All the cold weather crap I've always striven to escape. Still, the months rolled over, the season changed and somehow I managed to survive the winter. Maybe that Midwestern hardiness got me through the tough times. Whatever, it seems that the GC has entered spring time mode, and not a moment too soon for Your Humble Narrator. Save for a last blast of snow and frigid temps a few weeks ago, winter is likely done. (Hopefully, this isn't famous last words concerning the cold weather.)

The GC has got spring fever; that is, we've been hit with a sudden influx of tourists thanks to spring break. After those winter months where the park was essentially deserted, it now bustles with people from all over the world. That means congestion: crowds everywhere and their kiddies running amok all over the damn place. It's really kind of a shock, almost like an invasion of our privacy; after all, we basically had the park to ourselves over the winter. Now we have to share it once more with these characters and put up with their crowds and noise and constantly asking us where the restrooms are? (I'm often tempted to answer, "Follow your gonads" to that last. Either that or suggest they go au naturale like the deer and elk and just do their biz in the woods) But of course we must tolerate them, because they not only bring their annoyances but also their cash.

YHN has been keeping busy over the past few months. Indeed, where many of my Xanterra brethren carp about the lack of hours during the slow season (anywhere from 5-10 hours a week is not uncommon; one guy got a paycheck totaling $20; it likely cost more to print the check) I've logged 30-35 hours per week and experienced a fairly minimal drop in pay. Much of this is due to my 'multi-tasking': In addition to working for the banquet/special events department, I also take advance dinner reservations and tackle hosting duties for the El Tovar dining room (which happens to be located in the fabled El Tovar Hotel, imagine that). Dinner reservations aren't bad since I wear street clothes; hosting duties require we wear the penguin suit: White tux shirt with bow tie and black pants. Remind me to post a pic sometime; people tell me I look like a maitre d'.

Even though banquets require a lot of physical labor, I prefer it to my other chores since the activities can vary. Sometimes I'm preparing room for various functions; other times I'm driving around like a delivery guy. Hell, I even deliver cakes around the park, usually only for corporate events -- they add gratuities in as well. The hosting duties can be interesting but I couldn't do it full time: Too much standing around. Plus, when they get busy -- as they are now -- the restaurant managers call me in to help the bussers prepare tables. I can do it, but he bussers can be a surly lot. They often view my assistance as an accusation that they aren't doing their job fast enough. But I'm diplomatic about their often-resentful attitudes: Fuck 'em. If you don't want me around, then do your goddamn job better.

Like all restaurants, the ET dining room assigns numbers to all their tables, and each are has a section number. It's incumbent upon the servers, bussers and hosts to know all these numbers and locations. In the beginning I was so turned around it's a wonder I didn't seat people on the roof. Nowadays YHN has a pretty good grasp of all these tables and sections. Even so, I can get turned around. Sometimes when I make a mistake, I simply blame the guest: "Oh, they should have gone to table 25? Well, they said they preferred table 61." (which is actually on the opposite side of the restaurant) The lead host, who actually orchestrates all the seating assignments, rarely takes issue. It's commonplace to take a guest halfway to their table before they complain for a different table.

You see, the ET dining room has 9 tables that are actually against windows that overlook the South Rim of the GC; these are the coveted view tables that everyone desires. Understandably, if people travel from around the world to eat at the ET dining room, they want the best view possible. Curiously, this attitude holds true at night as well. I say 'curiously' because at night you cannot see the canyon at all. All you can see is the reflection in the window of the restaurant. Yet, evening guests will still demand a view table when all they'll be able to see is their own reflection. Go figure.

Hosts will work either an early shift (6:30 am-2 pm) or late shift (4:30 pm-10 pm). Depending on the guest volume we can be cut loose earlier, which is often the case. I prefer mornings because the overall vibe is more laid back. Evening can get intense, due to all the dinner reservations creating a time crunch. (reservations aren't required for breakfast or lunch at ET) When someone arrives at 8 pm for their table and the guests from 7 pm are still lolling about, there's not much you can do but put that party @ 8 on a wait list -- which usually provokes impatience, annoyance and/or outright hostility. (They could always take my approach: Give the lollygaggers the bum's rush and toss 'em into the canyon. Bet people would finish their meals quicker then!)

One of the things I do like about my job is meeting so many people from all over the world. Recently we've had workers arrive from Ecuador, Thailand and the Philippines (the largest contingent). In the next few months the Europeans and Chinese will land upon our shores. A Filipina girl named L recently joined the host staff. While she's a bit sketchy on her duties, she's very nice, very cute -- and very young at a mere 19. Nevertheless, she and I are friendly and like to joke/flirt with each other. Indeed, YHN was getting some, shall we say, provocative thoughts about L after she complimented me: She said, "I think you must have many girls who like you. You are very nice looking." Ah, what a coup! I was feeling rather good about myself when she offered this follow up: "You are like my father."

It hit me like a spray of cold water on a pair of dogs humping. Ah, I guess it had to happen some day, a comment like that. Still, there might still be something salvageable here. I'm like her father? Maybe I'll adopt her.

Canyoneering 7: Trays Of Our Lives

2012-12-30T13:54:00.001-08:00

If you've ever wondered why I seem to take a long time between blog posts, it's this: I have no home Internet connection. To update this blog I have to use the wi-fi here at the Grand Canyon Recreation Center (motto: Get Rec'd) where I've become known as one of the die-hards. That is, I make the app. 2 mile trek from Trailer Village where I live to the Rec Center whenever I have the time. As I often work in the afternoons, I usually wake around 5 am and am out the door by 7-ish. Part of the reason I wake so early is from habit; why, I don't know. It likely has something to do with my insomnia, which I've dealt with all my life.

The other reason Your Humble Narrator likes to get up early is because he cannot abide the tiny room he shares with a roommate. Really, it's like a coffin in the woods. Add to this my roommate -- R, a middle-aged overweight guy from Arkansas -- never seems to leave the room. He spends most of his time off hanging around downloading and watching videos. Often he's up until 3-4 am watching videos with a glassy-eyed stare, occasionally making a chuckling noise that sound like Beavis and/or Butthead laughing. When he's not doing this, he manages to snore loud enough to peel the paint off the walls. (I've found some great earplugs, Hearos, that really manage to block a lot of the noise.) Overall, he's okay but can be annoying at times. Like any roommate, I suppose.

At any rate, that's much of the reason why I don't like to spend much time in that room. I use it many for the 'S'-entials: Shaving, Showering, Sleeping and .... Odd, I can't seem to remember the other S-word. While I'd love my own place, the only people who have private housing in the GC are managers or people who have accrued a lot of seniority. And many of them still live in dorms with efficiency apartments.

Random Notes:

I mentioned my gig as a Banquet Steward and how it can be a lucrative position. True, but the BS crew falls victim to the GC's slow season as well. In order to accrue extra hours we are given various jobs in the El Tovar Hotel & Restaurant. Over the past week for example, I've worked as a dinner reservation operator, a host (basically showing customers to their seats), and as a busser. Bussing isn't bad except you're expected to carry dirty dishes away on a tray (or 'oval'). It's amazing to watch the bussers and servers glide and flit around hoisting trays full of heavy plates and delicate glassware like they were lifting feathers.

And how did YHN fare as a busser? Fine -- except I couldn't bring myself to carry the trays. Indeed, every time I thought about carrying a full tray, visions of the Hindenberg exploding flashed through my mind ("Oh the humanity!"). Whenever I was asked by the lead busser, "Wouldn't you like to try carrying a tray?" YHN would politely reply, No, he fucking would not. (I actually left out the expletive.) But I did learn how to change table linens, fold napkins, and arrange flatware. I can only marvel at the sheer amount of minutia involved with setting a table, and all the teeny tiny details one must observe in the preparation of fine dining.

For a person of my temperament and disposition, however, all the formality can become exasperating and boring. In the back of my mind I'm always asking, Why the hell is all this shit necessary? It seems so ridiculous ... Cups set at a 45-degree angle, salt facing in the direction of the restaurant entrance, knife blades facing to the right, whatever. Like they say, it's all in the details -- including ways to try my goddamn patience. At least it's given me something to write about.

And in case I can't post before then, Happy New Year!

Canyoneering 6: What a BS Job

2012-12-23T12:31:00.000-08:00

In our last episode, I was relating how I've shifted from the position of cafeteria worker to the position of Banquet Steward here at the Grand Canyon ...

So far it’s interesting (albeit physical) work and it’s giving me the chance to meet a lot of the higher management here at the GC. Duties also include serving, bussing tables, and some bartending (not until I go through TIPS training, though). FYI, the Banquet Steward is also recognized as one of the best paying (non-management) positions in the GC. Consequently, it’s also one of the most highly sought after positions; due to the higher pay, the stewards tend to keep the gig for a long time. One manager told me it was the first time a position had opened up in nearly 5 years.

There were many applicants for the position. As I recall, my interview lasted over an hour (longest job interview in my professional life). I’m sure many of those applicants had far more relevant job experience than I did. Indeed, there’s a lot of stuff I told them I had no experience with: Bartending, cash handling, serving. My only previous experience in the food service industry had been with SA and that was only six months, give or take. I admit I was surprised to get the interview; I was shocked to get the job.

A Winter Wonderland or a Winter Wasteland?

Not to look a gift horse in the mouth but I sometimes wonder ‘why me’? I’d like to think it had something to do with my aforementioned focus on the job at hand – my work ethic, I suppose. I’d like to think it had something to do with being recognized as a reliable, dependable worker who eschews the petty bullshit found at any job. Hell, I’d like to think it has something to do with the universe rewarding me for surviving all the turmoil that engulfed me in Oct 2011. I’d like to think this is all part of me working through a process.

The point is, I’ve tried to take a bad situation and turn it to my advantage. I’d like to think this new job is proof of that. I’m still pursuing my voiceover/acting/writing careers; I could never abandon that. But it can’t hurt to gain experience in things unrelated to those fields. It’s nice to know you can succeed in certain endeavors you might never have attempted, if not for something that seemed to be (at the time) an incredibly negative event. Almost makes you believe there's a grand design behind my becoming a Banquet Steward.

Maybe I was always destined for BS.

Canyoneering 5: YHN, GCBS

2012-12-20T10:39:00.000-08:00

So it's less than a week from Xmas and the Grand Canyon is looking like a winter wonderland. Just when I thought the snow would bypass us (out of consideration of Your Humble Narrator's disdain for the white stuff) -- BLAM -- we get hit with 10+ inches of the crap. And of course as temps begin to warm up enough to melt the snow we get another 3" last night. Snow is one of the primary reasons I moved to Las Vegas. I lived there for some 12 years without seeing a snowflake (just other flakes of the human variety); another dozen snow-free years would be more than welcome.

Not that YHN is a stranger to snow. After all, I grew up in the midwest so I'm somewhat used to inclement weather. But it has been difficult to readjust to maneuvering across slippery roads and treacherous black ice. I've slipped and fallen several times recently trying to navigate slick surfaces. I finally gave in and spent the $$ on some 'STABILicers' kind of like snow chains for your shoes. Happily, I've not slipped or slid since; hell, I can traverse these Arctic conditions like a giant penguin!

It's very pretty ... Pretty damn annoying!

Perhaps it's due to the time of the season, but I find myself thinking about time and how it seems to constantly slip away. Curious, because approximately a year ago at the Salvation Army time seemed to stand still. It felt as if I'd never get out of there, like I could never break free of my circumstance. Now, at the Grand Canyon, time has seemingly resumed its linear flow. Yet even here, time can play tricks on you. Sometimes it feels as if there is no such thing as 'time' per se; at least not as something that can be measured or categorized.

One could argue that this very location is somehow timeless in and of itself. Or perhaps it’s because we’re rather cut off from civilization; consequently, we often aren’t up to date with all the latest news from the outside. Indeed, one temporal phenomenon that affects almost every employee in the GC is this: We often have a difficult time remembering what day it is. One day is essentially like the other within the park. There are times when terms like “Monday,” “Saturday,” etc. completely lose their meanings. There are simply days and nights that seem to steadily dissolve from one to the other without regard for how we humans care to measure time.

What a roundabout way of saying it’s been a long time since my last post. Here we are, very close to Xmas and 2013 and Your Humble Narrator has been in the GC for approximately six months. Odd, because when I originally landed here from Vegas I intended to leave the GC sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Well, it looks like I’ll miss that deadline. Indeed, I might be here in the GC for the time being. So what happened?

I guess I’m experiencing what is a fairly common occurrence for many employees: The GC grew on me. Many people who have spent 5-10+ years in the park tell a similar tale: They come here planning on staying for months and end up staying for years. They find careers here; they marry and raise families here; they find a home here. While it’s too early to tell if I actually want a career (or a family) in the GC, I think I have found a home, however temporary.

Remember, when I arrived here from Salvation Army, I was essentially homeless with maybe $75 to my name. I had lost almost everything I possessed, found myself in situations I could never have anticipated; it was a classic ‘it-could-never-happen-to-me’ scenario – except that it did happen. At best I could say that when I had a mid-life crisis, I had a mid-life crisis. At any rate, I found myself hurtling through changes in lifestyle, attitude, and circumstance that left me in a state of bemused numbness. And that’s pretty much how I felt when I arrived at the GC.

While I initially planned to save up just enough cash to return to Vegas and restart my former life there, something interesting happened. I began to enjoy living in the GC, something I could never have anticipated upon arrival here. I think it began with appreciating the immensity of the landscapes and vistas. Then there’s the small community here with people who are very friendly, helpful and outgoing. And while I never imagined working as a ‘cafeteria worker’, I actually did begin to take satisfaction from performing the job, regardless of how menial and tedious it could be at times.

That’s something I find inexplicable; in the past I would have laughed at the notion of me working in such a job. But while I was at SA I decided to use those experiences – as unfortunate as they may have been – as an opportunity to learn from my circumstances. That meant learning the jobs, learning from bosses and coworkers and basically focusing on the job at hand (no pun intended). I tried to learn as many details as possible about whatever gig I was given. In a sense I was trying to focus on anything other than my shitty circumstances.

So I think that philosophy carried over here to the gig at the GC. Sometimes I actually looked forward to work. I was content to be a line-server, and slop food onto plates. Along the way I learned as much of the operation as possible – not just about the Canyon Café where I worked, but about the entire Food & Beverage Department run by Xanterra Corp. here at the GC. I found I liked talking with the guests and learning about where they came from. I displayed a good attitude, never caused trouble and have never been late or called in sick.

Why do I tell you this? Because I feel like patting myself on the back? No, actually. It’s because I believe these are reasons why I got the nod for a new gig here at the GC. YHN has transitioned from working in the café to the position of ‘Banquet Steward’. I’m now part of a crew that sets up a lot of special events here. That includes anything from Xmas and holiday parties to political town halls and weddings. It's also recognized as one of the more coveted (non-managerial) positions in the park. I'll explain more about that in the next post.

Canyoneering 4: Sh*tfaced & Painless

2012-11-11T17:19:00.001-08:00

If you couldn’t tell by the calendar, you can definitely tell by the weather: The seasons have turned and winter has arrived here at the Grand Canyon. The past few days have been overcast, cold and windy; today is no exception. The forecast has been calling for a 50% chance of rain/snow, although no precipitation has fallen thus far. Perhaps it’s because of the elevation here, but the winds seem especially sharp and piercing, and it seems to hit from all sides. Then again, maybe I’ve been too spoiled by the comparatively milder climate of Las Vegas, where I’ve lived for more years than I care to relate.

Anyway, that’s the weather update. Since I live in a world-famous national park, I thought I’d take a moment to let you know all the great things we employees do to entertain ourselves here. Let’s see … many people watch DVDs, drink, hike around the GC, drink, go for long walks, take the area tours, watch TV, eat, drink, surf incessantly online, drink, engage in photography, ogle tourists (females in my case), attempt to annoy the local four-footed wildlife, and did I mention drinking?

Yes, boozing, partying, and getting completely shitfaced tend to be popular pastimes here at the GC. And that’s because, believe it or not, there’s really not a whole helluva lot to do here. Once the novelty of sightseeing and hiking wears off, we employees – or at least Your Humble Narrator – are faced with the reality of living in what is essentially a small, remote village that offers very little in the way of diversion, entertainment, or flat out fun. Hence drinking and partying are there to fill the need. Indeed, it’s no mystery that AA has its own chapter here, and it is (reportedly) well-attended.

(Given the lack of activities here, I sometimes wonder why the GC doesn’t experience a baby boom of sorts; making babies is one form of diversion that never seems to go out of style. Maybe the government puts contraceptives into the water here.)

Road Trippin’ to Flag

At any rate, YHN is neither a drinker nor smoker (of any substance), so that puts him especially at a loss. It also leaves me with that above-mentioned form of diversion as a means of entertainment; now if I could only find a willing partner. The sad truth is that civilization lies approximately 80 miles to the south of GC in the bustling metropolis of Flagstaff, AZ. I say this sarcastically, of course. While it’s a nice enough college town, Flag is fairly small in size and provincial in attitude. Normally I wouldn’t give Flag a second thought. But compared to the dearth of activities and products available in GC, this small town might as well be NYC or LA

If you don’t have a car (like me) you can take a shuttle from GC to Flag at the rate of $25 – each way, and that includes an employee discount. The cheaper alternative is to take advantage of twice-a-month shopping trips sponsored by the GC Rec Center: $15 round trip. I’ve done this a few times, but there are disadvantages. You must abide by their schedule and itinerary; it usually involves stops at Walmart, the Flagstaff Mall, and assorted grocery stores.

Sometimes your roadmates are less than desirable types who like to talk (or fart) nonstop. Sometimes you might get squished while sitting between two weight-challenged behemoths who refuse to shift position. On the plus side, I’ve managed to get haircuts and eye exams during these trips. As you might expect the attractive price makes these trips very popular. Since the van can only accommodate 10 people, the trips fill up fast. And the trips might not be scheduled on a day you can take off. Nonetheless, this is the most cost-effective way for GC residents to do their shopping in the big city.

Another way is to simply travel to Flag with friends who have wheels. I’ve also done this on occasion. The driver will usually request $10-15 from each passenger for gas money. My experience has been the following: I’m crammed into a small car with 4-6 people making the trip. Most of the people are chain smokers (another popular activity in the GC) and I have to hold my breath most of the trip. My fellow passengers are often, for whatever reason, of the nerd-geek variety. That means a lot of sci-fi/Star Trek/Star Wars, etc. references. It also means a lot of computerese techno-babble that sounds like a foreign language after a time

Then there seems to be the requisite wigger of the bunch; that is, a suburban white kid who has adopted a lot of urban hip-hop slang into his vocabulary. Thus, I hear stuff like, “Yo, when we gonna jet this bitch?” Or, “What up with that, yo? Why you gotta be a nigga about it?” or somesuch. Sometimes it’s amusing, while other times it sounds hopelessly pathetic. Of course, there is something of an age gap between YHN and his fellow passengers. I might have a few years (okay, decades) on these guys, after all. But really … What is up with that, yo?

It’s not unusual for employees to spend a few nights in Flag, just to get away from the confines of the GC. It’s odd to use the word ‘confines’ when referring to a landmark that stretches some 277-miles but it’s amazing how claustrophobic the park can seem at times. And it’s not just the park, but the living arrangements which enhance that discomfort.

Unless you’re in a management position here, you will have a roommate. Rest assured, you will get sick of seeing their face, hearing their voice, etc. Their very presence seems to be a violation of your personal space. In my case, I have a middle-aged roommate who seems to love his room – he never fucking leaves the place during his time off. His leisure activities seem to be downloading crap off the internet, blasting music, snoring loud enough to rattle the windows, and of course drinking (mainly Fosters big cans, it seems). That's when he's not moping about his glory days or bitching incessantly about his job. Remind me to write a post on this guy: He redefines the term “Buzzkill”.

For my part, I spend very little time in the room. It’s too small, and like I say the roommate is always hanging around there (which is weird because he actually has a vehicle). During my time off I tend to walk a lot, go to the library, the Rec Center, or do whatever I can to avoid that room. I mainly need it for sleeping, shaving, showering and … well, that other essential bodily function..

Other options for employees escaping the park include Williams AZ, about 35 miles away, and Tusayan which is right outside the park. It’s also where many park employees moonlight at local hotels and fast food joints. Williams is interesting because employees can get a free train ride there from the GC; that catch is, you must stay overnight before returning. Tusayan is interesting because ... well, nothing comes to mind at the moment. Anyway, that's some of the stuff we do to amuse ourselves here at the big bad GC.

And if all else fails, there’s always drinking. Or did I mention that?

... One Year Later

2012-10-31T18:27:00.000-07:00

You know those TV shows and movies where the story leads up to a dramatic cliffhanger and the screen blacks out and the legend "One year later ..." appears. (Alternately, writers use the "24 hours earlier", "One year earlier", etc.) I've always felt that device is some thing of a cheat. Like the filmmakers didn't exactly know where to take their story after building it up to a dramatic point; they seem to have decided, "Hell let's skip ahead a year and fill in the details as we go along".

While I think it's something of a cheat and cliche when used in film/TV, wouldn't it be cool if you could use that device in real life? Magically skip ahead X amount of time to a given point in your life where everything has turned out fine. I wish I could have done that over the past year. You see, while you might view Halloween as a time to trick or treat, I'm afraid it marks a bitter anniversary for You Humble Narrator. It was about a year ago that I became homeless.

Yes, things certainly did build up to a climax: I succumbed to major depression, lost most of my possessions and money (not to mention my pride), was evicted from my apartment and literally wound up on the streets of Las Vegas with no where to go. (If you'd like to read my tragic tale in detail, please refer to earlier posts of this blog entitled "HINJFCA"; you'll learn what the clunky acronym stand for.)

During the past year I traveled a path I could have scarcely imagined. I arrived at the Salvation Army of North Las Vegas with less than $100 to my name (if not for the generosity of a cousin I would not have had even that much). I encountered circumstances and people I had only read about or seen portrayed in the media. I effectively became part of a shadow society of beggars, drifters, and malcontents. I sometimes marvel that I didn't simply fall in with many of those who have chosen to take their chances on the streets.

You might not believe how easy it is to make the choice to simply abandon society, cast away responsibility, and lose yourself in the anonymity of the streets. All it takes is for a person to lose so much that making the effort to regain it isn't worth the effort. Many have chosen to find comfort in the filth and danger of the streets.

During the past year I was a client in the SA vocational program. I worked in food service for the first time in my life. I went to culinary school and learned basic cooking and garde manger (well, sort of). I made friends with people I would have not long ago deemed as undesirable: Ex-cons, junkies, thieves of all sorts, hookers, and those with questionable mental stability. I tried to learn as much as I could from them and about them. In some ways, I think the process helped me learn about myself: That I wasn't as fucked up as I feared I was.

Time made events into a kind of blur. I applied for and was accepted for a job at the Grand Canyon, where I presently live. I think the change in atmosphere from the urban jungle of Vegas to the rugged landscapes of the GC have acted as a tonic of sorts. For whatever reason I've felt revitalized since coming here. The work is somewhat tiresome but it's easy to save money, and I don't feel the day to day pressures of living in a large city. I like many of the people I've met here, especially those from overseas. The atmosphere is, overall, agreeable. I actually grew up in a village; now, decades later it seems I have found some degree of peace in another village some 7000+ feet in elevation.

The experience of the past year has been humbling to say the least. I could never have guessed these events would have taken place in my life. In some ways this experience has served as a time of re-examination and reassessment. It has made me appreciate the things I previously took for granted. In some ways it feels as though I have been broken down piece by piece, atom by atom, into my base elements. And slowly, piece by piece, atom by atom, I am being reconstructed, re-forged if you will, into something new; hopefully into something better than before.

There are any number of lessons I could take away from this experience. Here's one: I guess if you really want to survive, you'll find a way to survive. Forces unseen will somehow come to assist you if you really want to survive. I say this because there was a time in the past year where I wasn't sure if I did wanted to go on. I only wanted everything to go away; I wanted the pain to go away. Instead, the pain got worse. But I survived it; I'm still surviving it. So somehow, at my core I guess I did really want to survive after all.

I'm still here.

Canyoneering 3 -- Trapped With Tourists

2012-10-14T10:03:00.000-07:00

While they provide profits for Xanterra (and put money in the employees’ pockets), tourists are often viewed by we employees as a necessary evil. Sometimes their innocent ignorance can be amusing: I’ve lost count of the times I’ve been asked – in all seriousness – whether they can ride an escalator or elevator to the bottom of the GC (personally I think it would be a good idea). Or the many times I’ve been asked if it’s okay to feed the squirrels, deer, elk, etc. – this despite the fact that signs warning against this practice are posted everywhere. Still, people can’t resist feeding these animals and are often bitten or otherwise wounded by the ravenous creatures. For the record, National Park Service Rangers hand out stiff fines to those caught in such practice.

A common annoyance is the habit of tourists to clog the narrow roadways of the GC while they stop to take pictures of the local wildlife. People can’t seem to get enough of seeing the elk and deer in particular. Since I see these animals every day (and night), the novelty is lost on Your Humble Narrator. Trust me, once you’ve nearly collided with a massive elk, they quickly lose the cute and cuddly factor.

A common sight where I live

While tourists can occasionally be annoying, there are some benefits to having them around. As noted, without their presence, we’d have no paychecks. But I find it interesting to meet so many people from around the world, even if it’s only for a few moments. And because they're usually on vacation these folks are usually in a good mood (usually). You also tend to note their food preferences if you work (as I do) in a restaurant.

Many Asian tourists (from Japan and China mostly) seem to favor spaghetti and meat sauce. Brits, Aussies and Kiwis seem to favor beef, like pot roast or Salisbury steak (which I tend to regard as a glorified hamburger). Germans tend to order ham steak or fish. The French are over the map when it comes to their culinary preferences. Interestingly, the French tend to order a lot of French fries, (frite or pomme frite as they call it). I wonder if French fries should be called American fries in France.

Because of the glut of foreign tourists, there are of course many different accents one must decipher; that’s when the visitors speak English at all. Often there is a tour guide conducting groups of 10 to 50 people through the cafeteria, and they must translate everyone’s order. This can take some time as you might imagine. It’s especially annoying when one tour bus after another unloads dozens of hungry, tired visitors, each convinced that theirs is the only order that matters. Adding to the aggravation is the habit of these tour guides to blast their comments through personal PA systems that makes the café echo with ear-splitting feedback.

For the most part, the process runs smoothly although it can look like organized chaos to an onlooker. Only once have I (nearly) taken offense to a customer’s attitude. I won’t mention his nationality, but he was an older fellow, obviously impatient or preoccupied. I asked him twice if I could help him but he didn’t respond. On the third attempt, he snapped, “No I do not want your help! You do not understand your own English?” I desperately wanted to tell the old bastard to go f**k himself, but what can you do. (Pardon my French)

The Yavapai Canyon Cafe, where toils Your Humble Narrator

While I’ve ragged a bit on the tourists, let me mention one distinct advantage to having them in the GC: The many beautiful women who make the journey to see America’s massive hole in the ground (so many jokes there, make your own). To me, the ladies are a far more interesting natural wonder than the Canyon itself. Indeed, Your Humble Narrator is known to flirt with some of these ladies (lightly flirt that is; no grist for the sexual harassment mill from yours truly). My favorite line to use is the following: “Oh, you’re from (insert country here)? Tell me, are all the women from (country) as beautiful as you?” Has that line actually worked? Ah well … as they say, that would be telling(!)

So if you’re planning on visiting the GC, don’t let my prickly comments dissuade you from stopping by. You – and your cash – are always welcome. And if you’re a beautiful lady from overseas of the USA or wherever, you are strongly encouraged to make the trip and stop by the Canyon Café at Yavapai Lodge. Your Humble Narrator will be at your beck and call – and if you’re lucky, you just might get his private tour (as in a tour of his privates). A low-class comment to be sure ... but that’s a specialty of mine.

Canyoneering 2 -- Beautiful Places On Earth

2012-10-07T10:41:00.002-07:00

FYI: Xan (from Xanadu) + Terra (Earth) = Xanterra

If you’ve seen the 1987 film “Matewan” you might recall that the story involved a group of coal miners who lived in a ‘company town’. That is, they lived in housing provided by the company. They shopped in stores owned by the company. They were paid in scrip that could only be used within the limits of the company’s town. In a sense, the miners had become victims of circumstance, owing their livelihood (if not their existence) to the all-powerful Company. (If you’ve not seen the movie, it’s worth your time to see it, imo. Follow the link(s) provided here and in the first line of this paragraph.)

There’s a parallel between the circumstances of the Matewan miners and the employees of Xanterra here at the Grand Canyon. Let me be clear about a few things: Xanterra pays its employees in good old-fashioned US greenbacks, not scrip. People are free to come and go as they please. Xanterra doesn’t ‘own’ the GC; the federal government owns the land which it operates through the National Park Service. The company operates restaurants and hotels (concessions) by right of being the highest bidder to offer such services. In fact, there are other companies here that operate other services. An example would be DNC (Delaware North Companies) which operates the Park’s General Stores.

The parallels I speak of have more to do with the practical side of living and working in the GC. All the housing for Xanterra employees is provided by the company. As I explained in a previous post, almost everyone here shares living accommodations. This can be a one or two bedroom apartment with up to 10 people in a unit, or Trailer Village where I live in a tiny, cramped room. Most male employees will stay in the Victor Hall dorm while females stay primarily in Coulter Hall.

The cost of housing for shared accommodations is very cheap, no more than $16 a week, including utilities. In fact, the cheap housing is a reason you can actually save a fair amount of money despite the near-minimum wage salaries. It’s also a reason many people elect to follow the lifestyle of staying in the parks; it’s not unusual for employees to transfer from one park to another every 6 months or so. You can find plenty of people who have done this for decades. Interestingly (to me anyway), many of these folks look like burned out hippies and they all seem to be devoted NPR listeners. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

So most Xanterra employees live in company housing (including managers who qualify for separate apartments offered at impressively low rents taken directly out of the paycheck). We employees also tend to eat at the company-owned restaurant and cafes on the property. Foodstuffs can be bought at the General Stores, but the prices have horrendous markups since they cater to tourists as much as residents. (And since it’s not owned by Xanterra, there is no employee discount). We generally receive 50% off food prices at the company owned restaurant. Given that prices are high to begin with (a hamburger - no sides – will run at least $6 plus tax), it makes our cost only slightly less outrageous than it normally would.

There are no fast food franchises like McDonalds or Wendy’s inside the park. Those establishments can be found in the neighboring small hamlet of Tusayan (pronounced, ‘To-Saigon’) the so-called gateway to the GC. You’ll find a number of hotels in the area along with a gas station, several small restaurants and bars. You’ll also find the same high prices found in the GC. Even Mickey D’s is uncommonly expensive there. (Several co-workers who moonlight at that McD’s say they constantly have field questions from angry tourists demanding to know why they have no Dollar Menu .) There’s also a general store; but since it’s owned by DNC it has the same high prices as its counterpart in the GC. If you live here you’re caught in a different type of tourist trap: You’re a resident paying hugely inflated tourist prices.

The General Store -- with Major Markups

I’ll have more to say concerning the tourist trade in the next post. In the meantime, you know the old saying, “Can't live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em?” That pretty well sums up the employees’ attitude toward the tourists.

Canyoneering 1 -- Escape From Victim Hall

2012-09-29T14:22:00.001-07:00

So it’s been a while since we last communicated. Suffice to say, Your Humble Narrator has had no trouble staying occupied with stuff to do. Indeed, since arriving in the Grand Canyon in June he has managed to scald his arm with boiling oil (much like the stuff you see in the medieval movies; in this case the liquid was contained in a deep fryer instead of a cauldron); had a brief affair with a female of the ‘foreign national’ persuasion (that being the politically correct term for our foreign employees); pissed off some Food & Beverage bigwigs by calling off a transfer to another restaurant in the park; and unknowingly walked headlong into a herd of elk during a midnight walk from work.

To the elk’s credit, they watched benignly as I panicked and galloped off in the opposite direction. If I've learned one thing during my sojourn in the GC, however, it is to give these animals a wide berth. Sporting deadly racks with points meant for impalation, the bulls are huge, appearing more like those Animatronic creations at Disneyland more than actual living, breathing creatures. This being rutting season, they are more apt to charge humans than usual. Let one of those monsters approach with its rack lowered and see how quickly your bowels and bladder evacuate themselves

When I first arrived at GC it was summer, with highs in the 90s. This was a welcome respite from the oppressive desert heat of Vegas, were highs usually hit 100 or more on a daily basis. Thanks to GC’s elevation (7000+ feet) the heat is considerably tempered and rendered bearable. But GC’s elevation works against it as well. My first few weeks here I was constantly wheezing from the slightest exertion. I was affected by fatigue and a case of diarrhea that stubbornly persisted. I was told this was all ‘normal’; that it, my body was adjusting to the higher elevation. Perhaps so; while I still get winded (the elevation can shift by 100s of feet depending upon where you walk) my other symptoms have vanished.

The higher elevation also means harsher winters. I’m told conditions can get very nasty during the winter months, to the point where the park has actually been closed due to inclement weather. I am also told the snow turns the GC into a true winter wonderland; that is, it’s a beautiful sight to experience. I don’t doubt it. I also don’t doubt that I had enough of the ‘winter wonderlands’ while growing up in the Midwest. I’m not sure if I want to willingly put myself through snow and ice if I can avoid it. Some people have fond winter memories of snow covered land and sipping hot chocolate on a frosty day. YHN, however, recalls too many moments of slipping on black ice and cracking his ass … Or driving along on slippery streets and narrowly avoiding colliding with oncoming traffic. Or … well, you get the idea.

Overall, I’ve enjoyed my time here. The people are friendly, and the atmosphere is congenial overall. Most of the people I've met are very gracious and easy to get along with. I've met a number of attractive ladies, too. And there are many people here from overseas. This is one of the high points in my experience here: I've always enjoyed meeting people from other countries and learning their cultures. (I'm also curious as to their opinion of the USA and Americans in general).

That said, there is a fair share of folks who seem to be socially awkward, or lacking in the skills of simple social interaction (conversation, for example). I notice a lot persons might term geeks or nerds. To a certain degree I’m reminded of my time at the Salvation Army in North Las Vegas. While many of those fellow clients had quirks stemming from substance abuse or incarceration, they exhibited some of the misfit qualities I've noticed in certain employees in the GC. Like some of the people I encountered at SA, some of the employees here might be described as ‘characters’.

Now that term can have a positive or negative connotation, depending on the person referenced. In this case let’s go with the latter def. A case in point would be a roommate I briefly had. This guy (who looked like a bony, nebbish Super Mario Brother) lived in Victor Hall, which is the main dorm for men at the GC. Understand that all new hires will share either a dorm room or an apartment at first. Only through job status or length of service can one qualify to live in an individual dwelling like an apartment. (An example of job status would be this: A cook has higher status than a busser. When an apartment comes available, the cook has first dibs. In terms of length of service, well the longer you work here, the more eligible you become. Note this applies only to employees of the Xanterra Corp which runs the hotels and concessions at the behest of the US Park Service. This is Federal land and companies like Xanterra bid for the opportunity to run such concessions.)

Anyway, back to the nebbish Mario guy: He’s been working here for over 7 years; he qualifies for an apartment through length of service alone. Yet he has turned down an apartment time and again. He chooses to live in a small dorm room and put up with the excessive noise and partying for which Victor Hall is notorious (this building is often called ‘Victim Hall’ by the locals). Enter YHN who was sharing a flat with 5 other guys when he first arrived. Looking for more breathing space I decided to share the room in VH. (Bear in mind I knew nothing about Mario’s background or rep as a nutcase) The first thing I noticed upon entering the room was the impressive amount of trash strewn about the place.

All types of trash: Papers, candy and burger wrappers, empty cereal boxes, notes, pay stubs, etc. All types of crap to wade through because it was at least calf-high; Christ knows what was breeding underneath that mess. His bed was a mess of filthy tangled sheets, next to which was a nightstand overwhelmed by all manner of electronic gadgets and wiring. The set-up looked like a fire hazard to begin with. Overall Mario and his garbage occupied approximately three-quarters of the room space. YHN was left with just enough room for a dresser and a bed. Thankfully, the room had a full size closet otherwise I would have had nowhere to store my stuff.

I met my roommate who, to his credit, was quiet enough. So quiet that the most I ever said to him was ‘Hello’. I tried to initiate a conversation but was met with a blank, wide-eyed stare so I gave up. The skinny fellow seemed nervous and twitchy enough as it was; God forbid an attempt at common human conversation upset him – hell, for all I knew he was another John Wayne Gacy waiting for another victim. I slept nervously the first few nights to say the least.

Asking around, I learned of Mario’s rep as a weirdo; apparently he says little to anyone. Just goes about his job, keeps to himself. Fine, but he also resists any suggestion that he clean up his act, so to speak. When I mentioned the filthy living condition to the dorm proctor or the Housing Director, they offered resigned sighs, rolled their eyes and said something to the effect of, “Oh yeah, that guy. We sure have had some problems with him.” So why not make him shape up or demand he take single housing if he wants to live like a slob? But it seems the management is content to regard the guy as the neighborhood eccentric and slap his wrist on occasion. If nothing else you can understand why no one (knowingly) wants to room with him.

After two weeks I had had enough of the freak. As if by kismet, one of my former flatmates offered me a chance to room with him, and I jumped at it. Located in an area called Trailer Village, it’s a really small room (in a trailer as you would expect) but does have a private bath and shower. Better, I can actually tolerate my roommate despite his elephantine snoring. Plus I’m within walking distance of my job, so it works out. The only bad part is the overabundance of deer and elk all over the damn place. The other day I opened the door and was literally face-to-snout with one of the beasts. Oddly, I don’t find it as charming as do other people.

More dispatches next time. Hopefully, that won’t be a year from now(!)

HINJFCA 34: Backtracking Part 2

2012-08-04T10:04:00.001-07:00

In all honesty, It was difficult to say goodbye to Salvation Army. While they are sometimes viewed as a bunch of naive do-gooders ringing bells at Xmas and doling out soup and secondhand clothing, I know that's a gross misrepresentation. I found the staff there to be frank and straightforward when informing clients of what was expected of them. Their judgment could be harsh but I never felt it to be unfair. Many clients who found SA too strict or unreasonable simply didn't want to comply with the rules or responsibilities they agreed to in the first place.

In my time there they gave me a place to stay, fed me, clothed me, sent me to culinary class and gave me some sense of direction and purpose when it felt I was ready to check out of this life. And while it was never smooth sailing, I must credit SA with helping me to reinstall a sense of discipline and restore a sense of structure to my life. The fact that I wanted out of there is actually a mark of success in my opinion. The clients who got comfortable with that lifestyle were the ones who often got kicked out and returned to street life.

It reaffirmed for me the fact that you can't help someone who really doesn't want to be helped. SA offers so many people the chance to change their lives, yet so many people seem to resent the effort. And it's usually because those people don't want to follow rules or guidelines. They don't want to give up their booze, drugs, or other addictions; they don't want to change.

At any rate it gratified me to know that many people there appreciated my efforts and considered me a good worker. It actually made the goodbyes more difficult. There are several people at SA that I will always respect, and I do miss them. Oddly enough, I miss arriving in the SA kitchens at 4:45am and drinking the too-strong coffee, and shooting the s**t with some of the guys. I honestly never thought I'd feel that way. What I wouldn't give to hear the 70-something F growl in his NY accent, "I'm takin' a f**kin' break and havin' a f**kin' cuppa f**kin' cawfee and there ain't f**kin' s**t you can do about it!" Always understated,that guy.

Anyway it was time to move on, and after a few days of homesickness (or should that be 'homeless-sickness?') I settled into my new routine at Grand Canyon National Park. As your humble narrator is getting lengthy again, I'll wrap up by saying this: I think homelessness is as much a state of consciousness as it is a physical condition. I can best explain it with a great quote (from whom I forget): “I've been broke but I've never been poor. Being broke is a temporary condition. Being poor is a state of mind.”

Make of that what you will.

Next time: New Faces! New Places! New Adventures! Same old Humble Narrator!

HINJFCA 33: Backtracking Part 1

2012-07-22T10:42:00.004-07:00

Okay, so how many of you clever trousers out there sussed out that the 'journal' was actually your humble narrator indulging in some so-called creative writing? Oh, I see – all of you figured it out from the get-go. Well, you'll never again catch me trying to be clever. You lot are far too advanced for me, it seems.

Actually, I couldn't think of another way to bridge the month+ gap between blog entries. Suffice to say that I have moved on from Las Vegas and am now living in the Grand Canyon (not actually inside the Canyon itself ... well, you get the idea).

I did have a bus trip to Flagstaff, AZ where I met some girls from Taiwan (Formosa); they were quite friendly and I've seen one of them on occasion. The 80-mile (+/-) trip from Flagstaff to GC was relatively uneventful, although the higher elevations can promote popping ears, bleeding noses, and even intestinal discomfort. I know because I've experienced these symptoms and more since arriving here in mid-June.

Upon seeing the GC from the south rim trail, I did wonder about the terrain's seemingly abstract angles and valleys and the inherent design and purpose that must lurk underneath those jagged foundations. I did mark an analogy between the Canyon and my own existence. My life has often seemed more the result of happenstance and the vagaries of chance more than the result of a definite plan. But deep down I still believe there is a design within the apparent abstraction; I just can't decipher it yet.

Ah, my self-pity detector is beeping, so I'd better take a different direction here. You may wonder wht happened when I left the Salvation Army in Sin City. After all, I stayed with SA for app. 7 months. During that time I went from sudden homelessness and embarked on a journey of sorts through parts unknown (unknown to me, that is).

I met people I likely never would have met before, given my circumstnces: Ex-cons of both genders, habitual offenders, thieves, cheats, weirdoes, wackos, wack-jobs and wack-everything in between. I met people who had been in and out of prison/jail for more that half their lives. One guy told me that I was the first person he'd ever met who had never experienced any form of incarceration. Indeed, when your humble narrator said he'd never been to jail, his fellow clients seemed to pity him.

Yes, some of those fellow clients seemed to prefer incarceration to a 'normal' life. I've heard that some of them have returned to lockup. Another tried to committ suicide and was locked up in a mental facility. I hope that many of the others are doing better but I haven't heard from many of them since I left SA.

... To be continued (always wanted to write that!) ...

HINJFCA Thirty-Two: Prairie Tales

2012-07-22T10:29:00.002-07:00

From the journal of an anonymous traveler, dates unknown:

Well, I did it. Said my goodbyes to the kind folks in Las Vegas town and have now embarked on a strange journey to the east and north.

They was a bit put out about me leaving, really wanted me to stay. Must admit I got attached to the folks at the hospital. They was the ones who helped me recover from my shootout with the Malpaso Kid. A nurse I am fond of told me to forget my anger and let the past go, or some such. I told her I would. But by God if I ever meet up with Malpaso again I will blow a hole through that son-of-a-bitch big enough for a buffalo to roam through.

Doc Martin warned me that where I am going is still a wilderness, filled with all types of dangers from humans and animals alike. After surviving some shootouts with the galoots in Vegas town, I'll take my chances with the four-footed wildlife. The two-footed varmints were enough for me.

(At this point the Traveler was apparently en route to his destination(s); dates unknown):

... Been a easy enough ride on the train from Vegas town to Arizona. Stopped at a small fort called Flagstaff. Been let off at a rail depot where I'm supposed to pick up the next coach heading to the north. Four in the morning now and no one here but the attendant and some fellow travelers. Seem to be from the Orient, I cannot understand them at all. Three gals though, and mighty watchable.

... Two coaches were filled and left me in the dust before I finally snagged this stage. Had to bribe the driver to get a seat, too. The three gals have traveled with me and we have spoken a bit. They are real nice and say they are from a place called Formosa. I asked if that was near China and they got persnickety.

... Heading to the north I can feel the higher elevation make my ears pop. Noisy on this stage what with a couple of dudes from Germany yakking nonstop. Most of my fellow travelers seem to be from foreign lands. I hear some French and even Russian being spoken about. Alls I can understand is some Spanish and Navajo (which sounds kind of like the palaver those gals from Formosa talk) ...

... Seeing a lot of wildlife as we get nearer to our destination. Huge elk, a lot of muledeer and coyotes can be spotted along the plains or sometimes blocking the trails. Even seen a few bear off to the sides. No bison, though. Guess the buffalo hunters have damn near wiped out the herds ...

... The plains seem to stretch on forever. Skies have been clear and blue with the higher altitudes. Someone said that's because we're getting closer to God. Didn't figure on getting that close until I was put six feet under. Driver and scout say it is only a few hours away now, our final destination.

... I hear tell the area looks like a sculptor reached out and carved abstract shapes and patterns out of the very earth and rock. Some folks say it all looks too organized, too planned out to have happened by mere chance or coincidence. I been reflecting on how that could describe my own small existence: Seemingly abstract, events occurring by happenstance without any apparent meaning; yet all along things have been guided by an unseen force, silently orchestrating a plan that I cannot understand, but continues to play out ....

... We have arrived at the place they call El Canon Gran. When I first saw this wonder of nature I felt empty and fulfilled at the same time. I still wonder why I was led here and what I will discover. Guess I will know it when I know it. All I can know for sure is, El Canon was here a long time before we got here. It will be here a long time after we are gone ...

(The journal ends here)

HINJFCA 31: Countdown Commencing In 2 ...

2012-05-29T19:58:00.000-07:00

As in 2 weeks. As in my final 2 weeks at Salvation Army. Yeah, you read that right: I m preparing to depart the SA – complete with honorable discharge (that's what she said) – in a mere two weeks. So consider this a formal 2 weeks notice for SA, Las Vegas, and the entire state of Nevada. Because I'm heading east, to ... But your humble narrator is getting ahead of himself. Last installment I promised to recount a few stories concerning some of the characters at SA, so let's get to that. And remind me not to get out of here with telling you abut the big change in lifestyle heading my way. (But if you just can't wait, there's a clue if you follow this link.)

'Beatdown Town'

Around a month ago a fellow client and kitchen co-worker named Truck (not his real name) scored a job at Crater Lake national park in Oregon. It sounded like a great deal: Nice location, a managerial position in their lodge kitchen, and a chance to save up some money. So a week before he's due to leave, Truck gets into a seemingly harmless argument with a guy in the SA kitchen. I witnessed the exchange between Truck (a 5'9, stocky black guy) and the other man (a younger white guy approximately the same height but far slighter of build). They got nose to nose with low, intense voices, neither of them willing to back down. At one point they actually went outside but onlookers broke up a potential fight in front of the cafe entrance. Upon re-entering the cafe, they exchanged parting shots with the younger guy exiting. Truck was still visibly upset when the security people showed up to take statements (your humble narrator kept his mouth shut) although he tried to laugh the matter off. Apparently the younger guy wasn't supposed to be in the cafe in the first place. Taking statements is par for most arguments of this kind. Security people mainly go through the motions on this sort of thing because guys woof at each other all the time in SA and little ever comes of it.

I wasn't a witness to the next part of the story, so I can only tell you what was related to me by my roommate. (FYI accounts of the following differ markedly) According to my roommate Hank, he was walking a few blocks from the SA campus near the St.Vincent/Catholic Charities complex. Truck suddenly ran up to him and said, “Hold this, man!” He gave Hank his cell phone, wallet and other small items. When Hank asked what was going on, Truck simply ran across the street. The younger guy from the cafe argument was there. Hank shouted for Truck to come back, but he confronted the younger guy on the sidewalk. Shouting turned into shoving, and wild punches were thrown. Truck dove at the younger guy's legs, hoisted him by the knees and body-slammed him to the cement. Truck then used his knees to pin the guy's arms and sat on his chest. Truck proceeded to deliberately punch the guy repeatedly, connecting with solid, deliberate shots to the face. Supposedly, you could hear wet 'popping' noises as Truck's fists hammered into the guy's face.

All the while, many homeless people sat and either ignored the event or watched with detached interest. No doubt they see this sort of thing frequently. Hank ran over and managed to pull Truck away, returning his stuff and telling him to get lost as the sound of police sirens drew nearer. Truck seemed to be in a daze, mumbling, “Thanks, man, sorry. I had to do it, man ...” He walked off and Hank took a moment to look at the damage done.

The younger guy was barely conscious. His face was beaten to the consistency of raw meat. We would later learn that he suffered a shattered jaw, a fractured eye socket and cheek bone, and several other injuries severe enough to put him in intensive care. (For the record, he did survive.) But before Hank could get away, he was detained by St.Vincent security officers and eventually questioned by police. Truck was ID'd by the guy and arrested later that night; I saw him led in handcuffs to the squad car. Hard to believe this was my co-worker and fellow student/client who was always so easy to get along with. He did have a temper, but I never thought him capable of such an action.

He would end up spending 24 days in jail (denied bond) because the guy didn't press charges and decided to move to Oregon. Most agreed that Truck dodged a bullet on that one; he could still be sitting in jail awaiting trial. His penance? Apparently no more than attending an 8-hour anger management class and he's paid his debt to society. Truck did lose his national park gig but SA allowed him to return to the kitchen. He's presently searching again for work.

When I saw him he told me his version of the story: He was walking along when the younger guy and three friends tried to jump him. Truck “knocked the f**kin' shit out that asshole” (his words) and the other three fled. “But all them bitches know they best respect my ass. You feel me?” Okay. Obviously, that conflicts with the version told to me by my roommate. Hank also had to tell his story to Vegas Metro detectives; he said it was like an episode of “Law & Order” (insert favorite franchise here) where he was taken to a small room and his statement was recorded. Hank was also summoned to attend Truck's court date although he never had to take the stand.

Many clients on the SA campus actually sided with Truck, supporting his actions regardless of which version of the story they believed. Some clients tried to make it a racial issue and another case of injustice for the black man. All I can say is that both parties were at fault (imo). There was no reason for the argument(s) to reach the level it did. As is often the case, the cause was something small. Here, the events stemmed from Truck telling the guy to take only one sausage for breakfast. The guy then threw a sausage link at Truck and it was on. All that grief over a sausage. Somewhere in porcine heaven, a piggie must be squealing with satisfaction. Truck is apparently none the worse for wear. In fact he seems to be enjoying something of a celebrity status since returning from jail, telling his tale of woe to friends who listen raptly. I worked with him earlier today serving the homeless breakfast and he's pretty much the same as before: Pushy, somewhat bossy at times, occasionally annoying. As usual, I pretend not to hear him and stay focused on what I'm doing. Truck is one of those guys I like overall, just not as a co-worker. Whatever. I'll keep the peace for two more weeks and resist any urge to throw sausage links at the guy.
Now, about that new j-o-b ... Ah, but it seems I've taken too long telling you about Truck. Guess I'll have to wait til the next installment. No, let's get it out of the way before you burst from frustration. Your humble narrator has scored a gig at a small resort located in the southwestern US. Ever hear of the Grand Canyon? Yup, that's how I roll. Go big or go home is what I say.

Anyway, I'll be working in one of the lodges or restaurants there basically as a food server. Fine with me because it doesn't involve cooking and it's a tipped position. Best, it fulfills my obligation to SA's culinary program so they won't sic the debt collectors from hell upon me. And I must admit the prospect of some new scenery appeals to me. So we'll see what develops. But for all intents and purposes the GC gig is a done deal. Next time: Eh. We'll figure something out. For now, that's a wrap!

HINJFCA The Big 3-0

2012-05-14T10:42:00.003-07:00

Wow, it's been a few weeks since my last posting. I had meant to relate how the job search process works at Salvation Army, so without further ado ... After finishing the Essential Employment Skills course (or graduating the culinary course in my case) the client is considered in Phase 2 of the Vocational Program. This means going out into the 'real world' and basically applying for jobs. Clients are discouraged to make contacts through the old fashioned method of "Hi, are you guys hiring?" or "Yo dude, got any applications?" or some such. Rather, clients are urged to make contact via means of talking to the boss directly (in my case, the chef) by means of introducing yourself as an honest guy offering an honest days work in return for an honest paycheck -- honestly.

In Phase 2 the client's work week is reduced to 24 hours (3 days) in order to facilitate their job search. Clients are expected to make five applications or efforts each week. Each effort is to be recorded on a sheet provided by SA which notes the employer's name, address, phone #, etc. Clients must also keep a diary of sorts that records all pertinent information as well. Failure to do so can result in disciplinary action such as loss of weekly gratuity ($15 in my case); or in the case of repeated non-compliance, expulsion from the program. I've seen a number of people let go through this manner. With 4 days off, the temptation can be too much for some people to simply f**k off. SA understandably doesn't want to keep clients around who simply want to hang out on their dime.

Of those five efforts, one can be an online search or application. Ironic, because so many businesses today will only accept applications over the Internet. I expect that number will increase in the coming years I'm told that the time limit for finding a job is 3 months max. That figure seems to vary according to the client involved. I know several people who have hung around 4-6 months before they found work (part-time at that). Others have gotten the boot within 2 months. Then again, they might have been causing trouble I didn't know about.

(If you commit various violations like using excessive profanity or being too aggressive to staff or fellow clients you're subject to being 'written up'. Write ups are usually initiated by staff or security, but clients can write up fellow clients as well. The latter case is given low priority since the violation reported is often something on the order of "X didn't say hi to me this morning", or "X never paid me back the $5 they borrowed", and so on.) Too many write ups from the staff can result in expulsion. Again, the tolerance and punishment for certain violations varies from client to client.)

Believe it or not, some clients cheat(!) when it comes to their job search efforts. (Not your humble narrator, of course.) Some clients will simply search out businesses online or from the Yellow Pages, and fill in the pertinent info from that source. A contact name can often be found on a website or with a short phone call too find the name of the manager in charge of hiring. (This is not intended as a guide for cheating SA, btw; it's just stuff that happens) The caseworkers claim that all contact info is verified but I've never heard of that happening. But the staff is overworked as it is without having to chase down their clients' job leads.

I myself have been concentrating on fast food restaurants. This is mostly because there's a chance of a quicker hire and opportunity for advancement. Unfortunately, Mickey D's, Burger King, et al tend to hire only on a part-time basis with the idea of proving yourself worthy of full-time hours. Don't like the practice but I understand the logic. One manager told me he has any number of people come in and get the training, then bolt after a couple of paychecks never to be heard from. This is often done by teenagers saving up for a car downpayment or video game/electronic gear. Junkies/alcoholics and other substance abusers are also perpetrators here; they'll get clean long enough to get the job, then leave when they have enough cash for a couple of fixes.

To further update to progress of various former classmates and fellow clients: One guy recently got a gig with a small Italian restaurant, while another (the guy who shouts/sings "It's your love, Lord!") landed a job with the Cheesecake Factory. No word on if they allow Gospel singing on the job. But if this guy gave thanks whenever he evacuated his bowels, he must have really rejoiced when he got this job. Another guy got a job with a VFW outpost -- this after he took off for a weekend without telling anyone (including SA staff) and reportedly got so high he was detected by radar. He was found out, but allowed to stay when most other clients would have been dismissed for the same violation. (This is an example of the varying punishment/tolerance I cited earlier.)

Another fellow got booted from SA because he could no longer afford the rent. After you find a job, you're transitioned into Phase 3. This means you're a client in name only and no longer required to show up for roll call, turn in time sheets, or adhere to any other such rules. However, once you have an income you are required to pay rent to SA. It's not bad, usually around 30% of the gross. But the arrangement makes some clients think twice (it has me). While you are moved to a two-man dorm room and granted freedom from many client strictures, you still live under SA's roof. That means no drugs or alcohol, no fraternization with the opposite sex -- or the same sex for that matter -- and no excessive noise, profanity, etc.

SA sets up a savings account for the client and automatically deducts 30% off the top. The rest of the money goes to things like a bus pass, food, clothing and other essentials (rent comprises 30% of the amount left over from these deductions). In effect, the client must surrender their paycheck to SA, who doles it out according to this arrangement. It's not a bad thing, but many don't like the idea of signing over their money to SA. Still, it seems to have worked out well for many clients who have gone on to lead stable lives. Then there are guys like the aforementioned who may never get the message. This guy got three paychecks and blew (pun intended) all the money on lap dances. When he was short on rent, SA showed him the door. Can you blame them?

The strangest and perhaps most tragic story of a client literally losing it all involves an ex-classmate and friend who did something many of us found unbelievable. But to find out what that act involved, you'll have to tune in for the next installment ...

Late shout out to Marvel's The Avengers for shattering box office records across the globe. You humble narrator knew it all along, of course. SPOILER ALERT: The shadowy character was Thanos. Always wanted to do that!

HINJFCA 29: The Next Phase(s)

2012-04-27T11:59:00.000-07:00

So it's going on a month (we graduated on April 4) since I graduated from the CSN/Salvation Army Culinary Program. I forgot to mention that we were presented with an impressive-looking medallion inscribed with our names and graduation date on the back. Our certificates arrived a few days ago. Suitable for framing? Sure, if you like framing a sheet of toilet paper. While I appreciate the course -- and am lucky to have survived all that nonsense with my wits (mostly) intact -- the so-called marketable certificate looks like something a grade-schooler can make on a home computer. Honestly, the certificate leaves so much to be desired that I doubt I'll include it with my resumes and applications. That way a potential employer might not think that I made it myself as a promotional gag.

Here's what some of my classmates have been up to since graduation: My former teammates have both scored jobs. Rain Man got a gig as a waiter at Applebees, while Pitbull went off to Utah to work as a cook at Zion National Park. The latter is apparently doing okay as his girlfriend moved up there with him. The former volunteered in the SA kitchens until his workload picked up. Haven't seen him for a while; there's speculation that he may have moved out.

The outspoken woman known as AJ has moved from the SA campus as well. She finished her parole commitment(s) and has moved back to her home somewhere in North Las Vegas. Last I heard she was "just chillin'" with her six kids from five different fathers. If she lives up to her promise to "smoke as much weed as I can" after her parole I expect she might end up behind bars again.

A guy I liked named JJ was kicked out of the SA program a few days after graduation. He was tardy far too often to the kitchen. Even though I was sometimes dispatched to his room to wake him up, I actually liked the guy. He was fairly simple, with an oddly angular face that gave him an elfin appearance and was easy to get along with. I was sorry he had to go. He's moved in with an ex-SA client and her friends in Summerlin. The household consists of several SA clients who were booted out. I hear he's relapsed into heavy drug use.

Another guy with a lot of culinary experience was actually booted from SA before graduation, but was still allowed to matriculate with the rest of us. He's living in an extended stay motel somewhere downtown. In all, the culinary/kitchen of SA seems to have a lousy record of client success in the real world. Many of them end up getting fired, discouraged, and wind up back of drugs or alcohol -- or worse, they wind up back behind bars or on the streets. During their time of job training at SA, they don't seem to pay attention to the idea that nothing will change until they change themselves. It's not uncommon to see homeless guys wander into the SA free food cafe who turn out to have worked in the very same kitchen, or graduated from the very same culinary course.

That's always a sobering realization. More sobering is the case of a woman who was actually working in the SA Day Resource Center (DRC) when I first arrived there nearly six months ago. The DRC is the large building and adjacent courtyard where many homeless people spend their days reading, playing dominoes or chess, smoking (outside only), or staring blankly into space wondering about what went wrong (assuming they're capable of cogent thought). This lady worked at the reception desk as part of her rehab program, and was the person who directed me to speak with one of the caseworkers on site.

I didn't see her for a while --- you can understand my mind was on other things -- but later noticed her showing up in the line for free meals doled out daily by SA in the afternoon. I recall asking her how things were going in the DRC and she quietly replied, "I don't work there no more." I let it go and forgot about her until recently. She began showing up again at the SA cafe, but now seemed more agitated or twitchy. She gave no sign of recognition toward me. I did find out where she stays, though: You can find her camped out on the sidewalk with her gear directly in front of the very same building she used to work in. On occasion I've walked by to see her sleeping on the sidewalk. Unfortunately, this is not an isolated story; but it is one that resonates with me personally.

I've found it interesting that many of the people I've encountered at SA -- particularly the ones fresh out of prison -- seem to hold the same attitude: Everything bad in their life has been "done to them." They seem incapable of accepting personal responsibility for their actions; it's always somebody else's fault. For instance, when caseworkers told one woman parolee her behavior was unacceptably confrontational and her language was too vulgar she replied, "Hey man! I'm going through a lot of s**t, okay? Why can't you people just leave me the f**k alone?"

It's an attitude that's prevalent throughout the SA clientele. And it's that all-pervading ignorance that's become a prime motivator for me to move on. Where? Ah, you'll have to wait until the next episode. I'm outta time, so that's a wrap!

Quote of the Day:
"I can't stand any of these assholes, man. They're all walking pieces of s**t." -- Roommate #1's opinion of his fellow SA clients (hopefully he wasn't including your humble narrator)

HINJFCA 28: Now! The Cataclysmic Climax To Our Chronicle Of Culinary Combat!!

2012-04-17T09:56:00.000-07:00

Always was a student of the Stan Lee School of Hyperbole. Of course, If this was a comic book cover, there'd be a blurb proclaiming, “In this issue – Everybody Dies!!” or somesuch. But fear thee not, fanatical one. No one dies here, although some have given up the ghost.

Anyway, where was I ...? Oh, yeah. I recently completed the Salvation Army/CSN culinary course which had been such a cause of aggravation for me over the past few months. While the prospect finally getting the course over with was the source of much elation, I now feel a bit deflated. I guess it took a few days for me to realize that the course – the experience – was indeed over for good.

Odd isn't it that often the very things that irritate us (people, events, circumstances, etc.) turn out to be hings we miss when they're gone. In my case, maybe the CSN course represented a challenge that I didn't detect at the time. I detailed many of my difficulties with the course in prior installments. There were times when I was tempted to simply walk away from not only the college course, but the entire Salvation Army vocational program as well.

Thankfully, I didn't make any hasty decisions and managed to finish out the process. So I do take a sense of pride in that accomplishment, and actually graduating from the course, even though it comes with an *asterisk or two. The accelerated culinary course is designed specifically for SA; it's unavailable to anyone else. I think the CSN/SA program is watered down (some might dumbed down) in terms of grading and more lenient in terms of tolerating student (mis)behavior.

For example, when I went to college in the past, I never had an open book test. I never got a +12 handicap on a test to ensure I wouldn't fail. I never had take-home quizzes that actually counted. Students arriving late to class or chattering during class were disciplined, not indulged. And students shouting death threats to each other (“I'm gonna kill you, motherf***er!”) would have been summarily ejected or at least harshly disciplined.

Maybe it's just the changing times. More likely, it's because many SA participants are atypical students. Many are just out of prison or rehab. They're mostly adults and have racked up a checkered past, to put it kindly. Because of their circumstance (including homelessness), maybe SA/CSN decided to cut the students a break to enhance their chances for success. Then again, maybe the CSN faculty is afraid that some of these freaks and felons might break out an AK-47 or machete (or both) if they receive a failing grade.

The graduation dinner took place in the campus restaurant, which resembles a Chills or Applebees place in terms of décor and ambiance. The 3-course dinner, consisting of appetizers like stuffed mushrooms (w/crabmeat), steak flank roll with spinach, cottage cheese and bacon, and cheesecake w/almondine nougat and mango sorbet was prepared by we students, and was well-received as far I could tell. The only thing I had a direct hand in making were the appetizers. Ironic because I can eat neither crabmeat or mushrooms. Still, many guests seemed to find the appetizers their favorite part of the menu. I'll take whatever credit I can steal.

There was a palpable tension amongst the students as serving time approached. Not so much panic, but stage fright. These guys had basically been working in the background and now they were being presented on stage before their friends, family, instructors, and most important, the moneybags who bankrolled the project and wanted to see if their money was well-spent or flushed down the toilet. History will have to be the judge of that. (It's probably academic anyway since I expect this program serves as a huge tax break/writeoff for somebody out there.)

So after a lot of anxiety, we were marched out in single file to the applause of the guests. I looked about, bemused; it was like a parade of children being shown off to their parents. There were speeches given by 3 students (your Humble Narrator was not one of said 3) about what the course and SA meant to them. There were the expected awkward pauses (and soothing reassurances from the audience), flubbed lines, and fingers pointed to the ceiling while giving thanks to “my personal Lord and savior Jesus Christ.” One speaker summed up by flashing peace signs and proclaiming, “Deuces!” to the mystification of half the crowd (the unhip half, I expect.)

Then we had a brief ceremony which involved our names being called out alphabetically while we walked to the podium to receive our official medallions (complete with names engraved on the back) from the chefs. Upon receiving my medallion I told the crowd, “Thanks and please drive safely!” Yeah, well, I had to say something. We assembled again at the front of the room for another round of applause before exiting.

Then it was down to biz, and that's when nerves of steel quickly unwound, frayed, and came apart. The pressure was on, and my erstwhile comrades did what they do best in such a situation: They panicked. Suddenly everyone wanted to be The Chef and started shouting orders, often contradicting each other in the same breath. The real Chefs had to step in and tell everyone to calm down. I, of course, kept my cool. Well, for the most part anyway.

Which prompted me to reply, “Look I'm doing this as fast as I can. If it's not fast enough, get somebody else, so make up your mind. Maybe you can call down your personal Lord and savior Jesus Christ to get it done.” (OK, I didn't really say that last bit about JC, but I wish I had. Hindsight is 20/20, and so on ...) Anyway, I exchanged places with the rice guy and things went a bit more smoothly, although he had many of the problems I did. We managed to get all the plates done, and that was it for the main course. Afterwards, I had to smile at the ridiculousness of all that anxiety over asparagus. For the love of all that's holy. Don't they know it makes your urine smell weird?

After that, it was cake, so to speak. The dessert was quickly served, after which students mingled with guests, chefs, etc. A class picture was taken (still haven't seen it) and we eventually gathered to eat the fruits of our labor, so to speak. There was an overall sense of relief, like a pent-up breath finally being released. People unwound, we cleaned up, said our goodbyes to the chefs, thanked our support group of waiters and servers, and .... it was time for one last ride back to SA from the CSN campus. That hardly a word was spoken is hardly a surprise: We'd been at work from 5am that day until after 10pm working in the SA and CSN kitchens. You know how you can be so tired it doesn't actually hit you until the next day? That was us.

And now I'm gonna blindside you. I originally planned to make this one post, but it's gone on so long that I'll have to split it up. So let's leave off for now and next time I'll sum up what been happening post-graduation with me and some of my fellow alums. Yep, I know: Nothing was said about this being a two-parter. But check it: Y'all should know how I roll.

Deuces!