Trains, planes, and automobiles (and motorcycles… and
bicycles…. and flippers… and feet)
Montana, Georgia, Montana, Idaho, Hawaii, Idaho, Washington,
Idaho, Montana, Idaho, Utah, Idaho, Montana, Idaho, Georgia, North Carolina,
Georgia, Idaho, Montana, Utah, Nevada, California, Nevada, Utah, Nevada,
Arizona, Nevada, Utah, Montana, Utah…France.
By this point you are probably wondering what on earth is
this and why are there so many mentions of Idaho? Montana we can explain but
Idaho? And Utah? And why the hell is France tagged on there?
The story of this offseason. Or About a Boy. Or Adventures in Homelessness. Or how to go
back and forth between as many states in the West as you can in the miles
between two oil changes.
Offseason.
The offseason is a mystical period of time where seasonal
workers don’t have to work. Ok, let’s be honest, when they DON’T have work.
Some choose to drag their summer seasons on as long as possible and do odd-jobs
for their companies until their tents are drooping from the weight of snow and
they grow weary of getting stuck in a snowbank driving out of the campground
simply because there are not enough folks still around to keep the loop readily
accessible despite snowfall.
Others choose to rip the bandaid off as the first snow flies
(and, in the case of this fall, before the government closes), making the
yearly exodus to find cities, to find “civilization.”
The vast majority of the time, re-entry to society tends to
be a little jarring. A little bumpy, one might say. Dependant on the person and
re-entry destination of choice, it
can fail quite terribly and one could end up downtown drinking every night
under the pretense of “catching up with old friends.” For other, it’s more
graceful—a fun job, a good living situation (read: cheap with lots of other
seasonals to split rent with), and some free time to spare for hunting,
fishing, skiing, boarding, yoga, and watching every season of every show one
can get their hands upon for free on Hulu or Netflix.
Seasonal.
SEA-SON-AL.
For those of you unfamiliar with it, here are the phases of
being seasonal guide:
1. 1. You land a job in a location where you would be
using your vacation time to visit. Life is grand. It doesn’t really matter if
your job is glorified bus driver and janitor or not.
2. 2. Season one goes well, you decide you will
definitely come back the next year, no matter what…
3.
3. Before you know it, your season is done… you
return to society for a few days, a couple weeks, a month only to realize you’d
rather flee back to your seasonal location.
4.
4. Before long, you have figured out a way to spend
the whole winter in the area. Check.
5.
5. Turns out, winter in the area is long.
Incredibly long. And isolated. But at least you have wolf tracks to follow out your front door?
6.
6. Next winter, you overcorrect your mistakes of
last winter and do exactly opposite. You fall madly in love with someone, you
don’t get a job, you proceed to travel 6 months of your life away and have some
of the most brilliant adventures of your life in said places with said person.
7. 7. You realize you have no idea what to do with the
one carload of belongings you own while you are traveling and proceed to stick them in a storage locker in a state you have a few ties
to. But mostly you pick the state because it’s cheaper to fly out of for
adventures, you will be flying out of there anyways for the place you begin to
work for because your off-season is a little too long to stay sane, and your
best-friend/travel buddy/love tends to spend a lot of time there.
At least that's how many of my seasonal friends' lives tend to go.
This offseason has been spectacular to say the least. More
than spectacular. Not only because of the places this one has sent me to but
also (and mainly) because of the people that have been sent into my life.
Here’s to the moments of belly-ache laughter, the “oh S***
where the hell are we” times, the crowd pleasing boot-dances, the joyous weddings, the
snorkels, the oxygen depriving free-dives, the multiple plane rides you almost
missed, the sand-filled shoes, the canyon bottoms that turn into streams while
you are out, the whirring of bike pedals, the roadtrips, the many instant
mashed potato meals (and first ever MountainHouse meals), the snowstorms that shut down cities you frequent,
the warm desert sunshine, the redrock rainstorms, the knife-edge ridgeline hailstorms, the double rainbows, the tropical sunsets and the snowy sunrises, the excitement of catching up with old friends, the excitement of creating new
friends, the enveloping bearhugs, the passionate kisses, the few oh-my-WHAT I have to
pack up my life and prep to work abroad somewhere to be determined for an
amount of time to be determined tears, and the ear-to-ear enthusiastic about
life smiles of offseason 2014.
Here's to all of you who contributed, be it a day or a month (or 3 or 4 or 5) to its wondrousness.
Here's to many more to come.
For now, however, this offseason must come to a close and this seasonal worker has returned to work.
