6/17/2011 7:31 pm
I believe over the past few days I have experienced my first bout with altitude sickness. Apparently the red blood cell count of a small, nonathletic guy from Alabama isn't good enough to handle the low oxygen environment of one place on the planet which God clearly never intended people to live. I have made a mockery of God's natural order and this be my punishment.
God's judgement on my chosen location combined with the dry air will get a lot of people, including me apparently, under the weather which is as strange term for a place that is literally over a considerable portion of the world's weather. The air here is just dry enough to make you pray for death. By just a smidge. So as I sit here trying to stay cool, hydrated and oxygenated(?) I can't help but think about home. As tough, unshakeable and all-round incredible as I am (for any one who doesn't know me, think Duke Nukem only cooler and with altitude sickness) if you prick me I do bleed, though not without a sizeable body count. As such I do miss things from home. I miss my family. I miss my friends (crappy movie at Jill's anyone?). I miss Blackwell's on Thursdays and Talking Football. I miss not having to jump through hoops to get on the internet. I miss spur of the moment trips to Atlanta so I can give European exchange students a bad example of Americans (there are only like four Americans there). But I think most of all I miss water and oxygen. They really are great. No better than great, dare I say necessary. I remember the old adage my grandmother told me, "water and oxygen are the basis of all biochemical processes and life as we know it would be impossible without them." Ah Grandmother, she was so whimsical in her old age.
So to honor the memory of by beloved 49th in education and corrupt as Hell Alabama I was thinking about the the differences here. For instance, I've never been good with languages and as such I've never understood the meaning of Rio Grande but I always expected it to be a very grand river. Not so much. I think its fame must be in supplying a water table as a tease of the possibility of water in the future. I crossed it the other day. I really do wonder why they bothered to build a bridge over it. If they hadn't surely the worst that would have happened was a slightly wet road. Everyone reading this has crossed more impressive streams while walking in the rain downtown. All of this has, analytically, helped me decipher what the words Rio Grande mean: creek.
In Alabama we have rabbits. Their natural habitats are pet stores and petting zoo pens. But in New Mexico there must have been a horrible disaster while transporting the denizens of the worlds largest pet store and or petting zoo because apparently these notoriously amorous animals have escaped and populated the wasteland. After being here for about a week I have a new found respect for these animals. They are apparently the manliest of beast. As I was driving home down a dirt road to the very expensive home I am staying in (more on that in a minute) I saw a rabbit sitting in the road. Now if you saw a sheriff's car (he had no way of knowing I wasn't one) approaching you at roughly 40 miles per hour you'd probably move out of the way because you fear it or because that's what "the Man" wants you to do. Not this rebel, he stared my Crown Vic to a complete stop with eyes so dark he seemed to be telling me, "Do your worst city boy. I've seem things you can't imagine." When you have several hundred siblings you probably have to learn to live on your own. That shear, don't take any crap from anybody attitude combined with their ability to live with altitude sickness, eat your entire yard and their legendary procreative prowess... Rabbits are tougher than you.
My manhood being threatened by rabbits leads in nicely to my next failing. I've never been one for very spicy food. When I say spicy food I mean the kind of spicy we have in Alabama. The spicy food they have here is a different world. I went to a barbeque restaurant today and there was a guy eating jalapenos. When I say jalapenos I don't mean he had some on his plate because he thinks they compliment the Texas style barbeque nicely. I mean he had a plate of jalapenos and was eating them as you or I might eat fries. I'd love to see what would happen if I tried that.
"Madison how are the peppers?"
"Ha..he..."
"What was that?"
"Ki...Keeee"
"What... Madison? Oh crap we're loosing him."
"Ki.. KKill me. I'm... I'm sure there's a peep...pepper here you can use."
"Did anybody get that? What's happening with his eyes?"
"Somebody help him. Get him some habaneros."
I'm not sure what to write next because I don't know what a defibrillator sounds like but the good, tongue scared people of Albuquerque would surely save me. I went to another restaurant and the waitress asked me how spicy I wanted it. I told her I was from Alabama. She put the sauce on the side and looked at me like I was dirt.
Next, the dirt. They don't have any. They have sand. Just the kind of sand you would see in a old western. It's the kind of sand that makes you expect a quick cut to a rattle snake. Yet somehow they have "trees" growing here. I have deducted that trees is Spanish for shrubs. And there are cacti everywhere which sucks because the sand just invites sandles. It's a sick joke is what it is.
In Egypt, long ago, old Kingdom laborers cut stores to level and strengthen the paths around the temples at Giza. These were the first paved roads and everyone agreed that was a really good idea. Top notch. Civilization then went pave crazy and now you can ride your Ford Fiesta from Thailand to the tip of Africa if you are a so inclined idiot. I would very much like to bring this idea to New Mexico. Don't get me wrong, the main roads are paved. The streets that branch off the main streets are paved, sort of, I'll give it to them for the effort. They clearly aren't very good at it but they tried. But there are a great many side streets that have no pavement. Furthermore, they have votes and elect NOT to pave these roads. Roads that people live on. And these roads have the lovely characteristic of having hundreds of ridges and valley, as if the wind decided to see just how far he could push the citizens here. What you are left with is a decision. 40 miles per hour and a cloud of dust that follows you home like a lost puppy that also hates you or the bumpiest ride you have ever experienced. And these aren't the impoverished living here. No, the poor having long since learned survival skills moved to the city and its miles of paved tracks. These are the well to do people. These are the Mercedes driving folk that eat tofu and read the Atlantic. It boggles the mind.
Ok, I need to go. I left the window to my room cracked and now all the bugs are flying in. Don't worry though. Alabama does now and will forever more rule that department.
Later
Madison
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