Sunday, January 15, 2006

canadian white trash

As many of you know, I am by no means what you would call, an “adrenaline junky” or “an idiot bent on self destruction”, but it seems that a certain amount of masochistic risk taking must be involved if one is to become a good skier. Just a few days ago atop Whistler ski resort, I was faced with a decision that I believe will affect the rest of my skiing career. The choices concerning my decision on whether or not to attempt a double-black diamond were as follows: 1. To heed my primal sense of self-preservation and establish myself as a platinum member of the “survival of the fittest club". (i.e. One cannot be fit if he is not alive) or 2. Heed my other cave-man desire to impress the female kind of my species, wooing them to myself by via impressive stunts, have them bear my babies and foster miniature versions of myself in order to abate a feeling of self-worthlessness and bolster my ego. Despite the fact that the only person I was skiing with was a fifty year-old man, I still felt the call of a man, yes, the call to go full fledged into the face of senseless danger. Thus, I stood hundreds of meters above the tiny specks of skiers below armed only with my neon purple and green, 1970’s, 195cm Elan skis, with straight edges as dull as a spatula, wondering how in blazes I would descend this rock speckled sea of deceivingly innocent looking snow, down back into the land of the living. The feeling is similar to that one feels when standing atop a 50ft bridge contemplating the meaning of jumping off into the water below—the feeling that these moments will define the rest of your life, and one bad move will mess everything up. But one hour later when I got to the bottom of that bad boy, I realize why I like skiing so much. It’s the same reason I like hitching, jumping off tall scary things (only under peer pressure of course), and talking to my sister-in-law; because I have a death wish written on my forehead (I love you candie!). Well actually, I do it because in those times one can feel life—it becomes a tangible reality of which none is wasted, it is something un-tame and unsafe. It breaks all logic and nursery rhymes we have been taught to uphold; it is a risk.

In other news, I have officially achieved the status of “white trash”. I am pleased to announce that I now live out of a trailer, and in order to live up to the stereo type, I also walk around in a wife beater, boxers, and carry around a can of beer as if it were my unborn child. I have even learned to ask my neighbors if they have any road kill I could have for dinner—despite my valiant attempts, a road-kill dinner has yet to be achieved.

One of my greatest joys so far in Canada has been biking to and from school. It’s actually quite ridiculous because no one knows how to treat a biker. When I ride on the road I get honked at even if there are no other cars on the two lane road. Either that, or what Michel Moor describes as “the friendliest people in the world” when referring to Canadians, (even on bible school campus Michel Moor is quoted more than the Bible and C.S. Lewis combined. I’m beginning to think that maybe there should be a Michel Moor Bible with his words in red—Canadians would appreciate that) give me a drive-by lecture, which consists of something like the following: “SIDE Waaaaaaaaalk!!!” Or a drive-by hint: they go out of the way to splash me by driving straight through a mud puddle right next to me—definitely below the belt. But when I go on side walks, other pedestrians treat me like some roaring military tank charging through at top speeds destroying everything as I pass. Children hide behind parents, parents behind telephone poles, adults will step into the bushes to let me pass. Other bikers will even stop, pick up their bikes, move to the side of the sidewalk, and wait for my tank to go though. It actually makes me self-conscious; do I have a scary face when I bike? Do I look like I’m about to steal a purse or small children? My friends here think I’m it some kind of macho man for biking 15 minutes to school. The concept is as foreign to them as busses, geography, tan-lines, and warm climates.

14 comments:

Kuri said...

i love you and your cooking domesticness and your cozy trailer! the candles and christmas lights do enhance ambience. keep up the good work, amigo. May the WHITE SPOT be with you. <3

chicki said...

BROTHER!! what have you done? if you're going to be white trash do it right and the way it was created to be. I think I will now post a picture of real white trash alabama style (this is a picture of kaylor dressed as white trash for funsies) and let you see what it's really all about - check my blog

Allison said...

Wow, Potter... you are an amazing and special man. I just read that entire post. I do not read long bloggings. But that... that was rather brilliant (not to mention funny). While reading, I was torn between two strong emotions: jealousy that you were at whistler - a place I have never ridden and long to go, and pitty that you were ..skiing and that you had to ponder whether or not to take that double black.

Janice said...

haha i'm sorry for the rude drivers/slash pedestrians, usually people here are nice to cyclists because they're "saving the environment." do you by chance have an american flag on your bike? just teasing you wouldn't do that. whatever, stick it to the man, and when you sail by them on your small bike when they're stuck in some imaginary fort langely traffic jam you should spit on their cars! yeah!

chrissy2sheds said...

At least your skiing companion wasn't 60! Thanks for your birthday message

~tiff~ said...

i cant stand michael moore

Ro said...

Yay! I love the way your cooky brain works. Like I've said a gazillion times, Write a freaking book! It doesn't matter what it's about. There's a gift there, buried where no one was looking. (Aww~ i'nt that sweet? =) Oh, and if you enjoy the style of your own random humor, might I suggest reading Terry Pratchet? Ryan doesn't like it, but it's so randomly hilarious. So~ funny.

Doesn't it rain a lot on you as you bike? I just have a 2 minute walk to class and I'm soaked through.

Anonymous said...

Glad to see your embracing Canada to the fullest, just be sure to keep some of that white trash for Tacoma. It needs all the help it can get.

Ryan said...

i would just like to say that terry prachett sucks, and so do you. HA!

Polythene Pam said...

I agree with your sister. Write a book. And dang it, your family was right - I do comment on your blog a lot... but it's only because you don't post that often... and because I blog too much, fine I admit it, and you know what? I don't really care!
kisses,
"big sister" Pamela

Miss Courtnay said...

If I ever quote or even make reference to mike moore in a good way. Step on my toes. I hate him with a passion few can rival.

Justin Nanfelt said...

Minor question: if you are in a trailor, can we still reach you by that other phone number that we had before or is there another one that we should use cuz me and Jimmy were planning on calling sometime soon.
e-mail me at least just the number.

person said...

youre nuts
i'm going to whistler this weekend...whats ur email?

Leslie said...

hahaha did janice ever tell you about the time she almost hit a cyclist?? We were in the car the day after you came.. YUP. The best part was that as Janice almost creamed him, he yelled "EFF!" He didn't even drop the f-bomb.. he actually said 'eff'. I hope YOU have manners like that!...