Into The Great Land

The deal with the devil

James and I made was that, if we got to fish all day Tuesday, we’d help chaperone a field trip by grades one through three of the Ninilchik Fighting Wolverines to the Nikiski Pool.  Egad.

James is apparently very popular with these trips, as he has 12 person vans he usually hauls fisherpeople in.  We got the vans to the school at 9:00 AM, only to cool our heels for half an hour because the kids were gluing macaroni on paper plates or some shit for Mother’s Day.  We loaded the little demons up about 9:30 and off we went, following the yellow bus, to the chants of “crash into the bus! crash into the bus! Hey, I’m starting to like these kids!  On the way James is trying to tell me some sob story about why some of these kids are a little grubby because some of them live with no running water or electricity or something, but my heart was not wrung.  Kids LIKE to be dirty.  Those were probably the happiest kids in the whole damn school.  We got up to “crash into the universe” when we arrived at the Kenai Mac Donald’s.  Apparently in Alaska every thing is inside, including the Mickey Dee play structures.  So the little imps of Satan are going batshit alternately trying to kill themselves on the structure or with artificial ingredients in the Happy Meals when the piece of shit Mc Dumbass manager comes out and starts trying to lay down the law.  Fortunately a couple of teachers took him aside, because I was about to light him up.  I mean, come on. The place was empty at lunchtime.  Those 47 happy meals put him so far over his daily sales target that he should lay down and let those kids use his beer belly for a bounce house.  You’ve got to keep those fast food managers in check. They get so used to playing Il Duce to high school kids and illegals aliens that they forget they are in the service industry.  Next time they front you, just recite the corporate complaint address to them and watch them shit blue flames.  Great fun!  So, we only had one kid puke and only almost left two kids in the crapper, loaded up the bus, and went to the pool.  Is the pool inside? Of course.  This is Alaska.  Is there a freaking waterslide inside?  Of course.  This is Alaska.  We handed the kids off to the life guards (no Baywatch influence here, I’m afraid) and sat and shot the shit for a coupla hours. James and I were talking to the big Diesel Dyke bus driver, trying not to yawn at her harrowing stories on the front lines of school bus driving when the subject of the dinner I’m cooking tonight came up. The Ninilchik prom is tonight, and James’ nephew is bringing his prom date over for a six course tasting menu, fine dining style, because there isn’t a decent place to take a lady out for about a bazillion miles from here. I’m happy to do it, cause it’ll be a good warm up for the season. I make some comment about how I hope the nice dinner gets the kid a little action and it goes over like a bacon menorah because the nephew’s date is the diesel dyke’s daughter. Well, shit.  Apparently Heather has Two Mommies. Gotta love them small towns.  On that note it’s time to get out of the pool.  None of the kids were floating face down, so we went to the playground out side the pool and gave the kids some snacks, not just carrot sticks and wheatgrass but cookies and chips and shit.  Made my heart warm.  They played for another hour or so, with us untangling some poor little bastard from the monkey bar thing every 5 minutes or so.  I swear Nietzsche and the Marquis de Sade got together and designed those things, because they sure seem to be designed to weed out the weak in as painful a way as possible.  We then loaded up the kids and headed back to the school, only almost leaving one.  The kids were no fun, as they all passed out on the way back like a bunch of little winos.