When they canceled the buses and it appeared there was no way out of Uptown, I wish I could say I was not afraid. It is only in facing the indifferent challenge of the wild places of this world that a man finds his character, and I decided in that moment, "No. I will not die here, today, on Lyndale Ave."
My first task was to use the only resource at hand, the drifting, blowing snow that stung my eyes and soaked my clothes, and turn my direst enemy into my dearest friend. I knew the blustering north wind would allow me little time to find shelter, so working as quickly as I could I was able to fashion snow into crude bricks and build a wall against the wind, and brick by brick, curve that makeshift wall into an igloo. The dire nature of my situation allowed only a brief rest for my aching muscles and a well-deserved hot chocolate from Bob's, before I once again returned to carving out the tiniest niche of survival from the cruel winter sky.
It would have been too easy to succumb to the temptation to sink into that wet, white embrace of the snowbank upon which I'd built the igloo that was to be my new home but I simply had to waterproof it, and there was only way to do it. I simply had to find a seal. I don't know how long I waited behind the shrubs of that deserted lawn, hoping the white snow drifting over my shoulders would help me blend into the landscape, and cursing the passing cars that were almost certainly spooking the wildlife, until I finally saw it.
It hustled into a waddling turn, hearing the crunch of snow crunching under my feet, knowing it was too late to run for the safety of the ocean, and for a moment as I stared into its sad, brown eyes I could see it knew I was death. For a split second I didn't know what to do, but then it happened. The instinct that led man to conquer the beasts and tame the rivers of this world, and I lowered my hand with cold precision, and watched with an astonished pride as the broken body of the seal fell to the snow. It was the two of us, hunter and prey, until a passing woman shouted "Oh my god, what the fuck did you just do to that... wait, is that a seal?"
Thanks to the sacrifice of my poor brown friend, I finally had a dry place to sit, and by borrowing a few copies of The Onion from a coffee shop and rubbing a boy scout's hind legs together I was able to fashion a small fire and convert my igloo from a pile of snowy bricks into a proper home, albeit one that stank of seal blubber. I had carved out a grim yet comfortable existence for myself, but this was not to last.
Returning from Leaning Tower of Pizza (man cannot live on seal meat alone) I discovered my igloo was no longer my own. I eyed the huddled wet ball lurking in the corner as it slowly thawed back into a man, and he eyed the seal blood staining my coat, and he knew he had entered the lair of a predator. He begged in his way for shelter from the storm, and echoes of concepts of "society" and "hospitality" stirred again in the brain of the wild man I had become.
We sat with the small fire between us, longing for and resenting the warmth and vitality contained in each other's frail bodies, knowing that soon survival might require us to draw closer and share that warmth, awakening the ancient ache for companionship that lives in every warm-blooded beast... and on the lonely edge of the world in the heart of that terrible storm we came together without thought, without shame, striving for the warm release that makes the whole world fall away, until the bite of cold sweat on our bare skin pulled us apart and back into the protective sheath of the sealskin leggings I'd made for him to wear. He left quickly, I think maybe his cab was honking or something.
As the snow eased I tentatively emerged from what felt like the only home I'd ever known, like summer and my sunlit apartment had been a fever dream, brought on by eating too much uncooked seal meat. A blizzard can spin a man around and obscure the most familiar landscape, and even the stars and the snow-covered street signs can play tricks on you... I didn't realize my whole adventure had taken place less than three miles from home, but it might as well have been a continent away.
Back in the world, at fancy cocktail parties, the self-appointed great minds will ask their questions: "It's not that far to downtown, why didn't you just walk or take a cab, genius?" or "Why won't you just admit you made up the part about the seal?", and in their fear they will shun me claiming my beard and my refusal to eat anything but seal meat are not welcome at their linen-covered dinner table, but will pay them no mind, for I know my home is the unforgiving but mostly paved wild places of Minneapolis with no friends but the wolves, the caribou, and of course my hot, faithful lovers the penguins who will sing me to sleep.
Sincerely,
The Bear Man of Lyndale Ave
PS Okay next time I head out to meet that woman with the antlers and glowing eyes for coffee in the middle of a blizzard, I'm not letting her talk me into sharing the space cake.
WTF?
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