Nature's Splendor, Part Two

To read part one, click here.

After a short while, the bus finally pulled up. Slowly the crowd filed onto the bus, until finally they were all on and the bus pulled away. It had a couple of other stops in town, but finally it pulled onto California Highway 140.

Af first the terrain was little different than much of the train ride had been. The sprawl of Merced gave way to the pastures, fields, and orchards of the Central Valley. However, after leaving the small town of Planada, a new thing entered his view. While barely perceptible in the morning haze, they were unmistakable along the horizon. The high peaks of the Sierra were visible.

Seeing the purple mountains in the distance stirred something in Josh. He remembered this feeling, faint though it was. It was the feeling he had felt every summer, as his family drove west on I-40 out of HIckory, North Carolina. It was a happy feeling, albeit one that was tinged with impatience. The last time he had felt anything resembling it was when he started his job. It was anticipation.

As he thought it over, he hadn’t seen mountains like this in a while. He had gone to college in Iowa, and had worked most of his time since graduation in Chicago. His parents lived in Richmond, Virginia, and he had vacationed in Florida, Las Vegas, and New York. When he had crossed mountains, it had been in the pressurized comfort of a jet. There were mountains in Las Vegas, as well as all around his home in the Bay Area. However, these were merely part of the background, as he headed off to a casino, or sat in traffic on the way to work.

After many more miles of driving, the tall peaks of the Sierra Nevada disappeared. They were still there, of course. It was just that their foothills, several thousand feet tall themselves, overtook the view. Rocky outcropping and small hills first appeared, dotting the landscape amidst cows and pistachio trees. Finally the bus started going uphill, as the once straight road became rather curvy.

The plants were still rather scrubby, although oak trees became more prevalent. The bus made a quick stop at a small village called Cathey’s Valley, and continued on through the oak trees. The bus climbed again, even if the terrain really didn’t change. The road became even curvier as it ran past Agua Fria, once a former boomtown during the gold rush. A few miles later it entered Mariposa, a small town that was also the county seat.

The bus made a few stops in the town, as it was a gateway town to Yosemite for many tourists. There were several motels in town, as well as many other businesses. Shortly they passed out of town and into pine trees. This was short lived, however, as the bus went down into a canyon. Finally the bus leveled off, as the road met the Merced River. Once more the bus climbed towards Yosemite.

Thoughts on What Happened in Aurora, CO

Up until Friday morning, this post was going to be my review of The Dark Night Rises, as well as some thoughts on this summer's movies. I was looking forward to sharing my thoughts on the movie, whether I liked it or not. Obviously, what happened early Friday out in Aurora, CO changed that.

Yeah, I still went to see the movie yesterday. I wasn't going to let some messed up asshole 1000 miles away change my plans. I was a bit uneasy doing it, even though I went through the probabilities of the situation. The likelihood of a second incident happening during a mid-day matinee showing was low, but I still found myself watching the exit door. I even made sure I'd sit in the seat closest to the door opposite of the exit door. The movie ended up capturing most of my attention, but to say it had my full attention throughout would be an exaggeration.

I love going to the movies, even if I have to drive an hour now to see a film at a decent theater. When I was living in Virginia Beach I ended up watching a movie every year. No matter how nice home theater systems get, they still cannot beat the communal experience of the cinema. The cool air, the big screen, the dark theater. It really is one of my favorite things to do, even when jerks are messing with their phones, or teenagers are wearing too much damn perfume.

I've even gone to a couple midnight showings. Each time was a special experiences, the packed theater giving off an almost electric vibe. When the lights went down on Return of the King, I certainly felt a rush of anticipation, as the long wait was over and all that remained was the movie. I imagine that the crowd that packed into theater 9 at the Century 16 in Aurora felt that same excitement as the trailers finished, and that Warner Brothers logo came up. Unfortunately, one of those moviegoers was actually a sick delusional fuckbag who decided to ruin it all in one minute of gunfire.

One of the people killed was Alex Sullivan. He was celebrating his twenty-seventh birthday watching the movie. Tomorrow wsa going to be his first wedding anniversary. This should have been a jubilant time for him and his family. Instead it will now be a time of mourning.

I love going to the movies for my birthday. When I was a kid it was oftentimes the one time a year I might get to see one in a theater. I love going to see movies on Thanksgiving weekend, and during the week between Christmas and New Years. I love it when the Oscar level films finally show up at our podunk theaters in January and February. From that first tentpole film in early May, through the big Memorial Day weekend release, to that last really big event movie in mid July I really love summer movie season. Heck, I even like the lean September/October and March/April periods, which have exposed me to some of my favorite movies.

During the regular course of life I can get rather tense. Watching DVDs, Blu Ray, or Netflix helps, but it isn't anything like those two or three hours of escape I feel in a theater. Until July 20, 2012 I never thought twice about my safety or ability to relax in a theater. I resent the hell out of this asshole who has made me doubt, even temporarily, my ability to relax in the warm glow of the silver screen.

In the larger picture, my slight inconvenience means absolutely shit. Because of that murderer, 12 families have been absolutely devastated. For the others who were in that theater, some will have physical scars. Many more, however, will have emotional and psychological scars to deal with. I can't imagine they'd likely be able to go to ANY theater, let alone the Century 16.

Frankly, I can't imagine what the victims, their families, and the family of the killer are going through. To act like I do would be disingenuous and self-serving. All I can do is keep them in my thoughts, and hope that they can find some solace and peace in this terrible time.

Over the next few days perhaps we'll get some idea as to why the killer did what he did. Of course, it might be days until the authorities can even get into his apartment, considering how meticulous it has been booby trapped. Supposedly he dyed his hair red and called himself "The Joker". As far as I know this is speculation, as is most everything else beyond his basic information. There already appears to be hoaxes and urban myths spreading, a fact of life in this age of rapid information distribution.

As for the rest of us, I'm sure we won't disappoint The Onion.

500 Word Serials #2: Nature's Splendor (Part One)

It's Baaaaaack. After a long hiatus, I'm bringing back my 500 word serials. Why did it take this long? Well, I don't have a good reason, but I'll give you an excuse instead. Quite frankly, I couldn't think of a good idea, at least until the one for this story popped in there. This is inspired by my trips to Yosemite in 2004, 2009, and this past April, but also any visit I've made to nature. I guarantee the next story will be funnier.*

Josh Amberstone was tired. He wasn’t temporarily tired, in a way that a good night’s sleep would cure. He was just dead exhausted. Exhausted with life, exhausted with people, exhausted with himself.

The train ride from Oakland to the dusty central valley town of Merced had done little to cure that exhaustion. If anything it had made it worse, courtesy of the screaming infant three rows up, and his older brother who spilled the soda and hot dog when the train made a sudden lurch. Josh was glad when his stop was called, and even more so when that family stayed on. They were the problem of Fresno or Bakersfield.

As the train pulled away, Josh sighed, finding a seat to wait for the YARTS (Yosemite Area Regional Transportation System) bus. This would be his gateway to the high Sierra, and the valley known as Yosemite. His friends had suggested the park to him as a good place to relax and recharge. Josh was skeptical, wondering how some rocks, trees, and some waterfalls would help him out. Nevertheless he decided to go, taking a week off from work to fly out to California and visit this place.

I mean, it wasn’t like he hated nature. Far from it, in fact. Every year his parents would rent a cabin near the Smokies in North Carolina. When he was younger, he loved running down the hillside near the cabin, visiting the waterfalls at Deep Creek, and having picnics amid the tall trees of the Smokies. He remembered the view from atop Clingman’s Dome. Most of the time it was too hazy to see beyond 20 miles or so, but that one rare time they went up there after a front moved through, it had been gorgeous. Supposedly they could see Mount Mitchell (the highest point in Appalachians), seventy some miles in the distance. He had been twelve at the time, and the memory stuck with him.

However, as he grew up, nature and Josh had parted ways. He still was in decent shape, playing golf a couple times a week and running five miles about every day. He occasionally strolled through the woods at Forest Park in St. Louis, and often picnicked with his friends there. However, for the most part he had become a citizen of the indoors. When he actually had free time, it was spent with Netflix, his apartment couch, and the contents of his refrigerator.

Around him were other people waiting for the bus. It was an eclectic group. There was a group of retirees, enjoying each other’s company as they reminisced on previous trips to Yosemite. There were a few foreign tourists, mainly Japanese or German in origin. A few of the waiting passengers were IT professionals from Silicon Valley, out for a quick weekend trip to the valley. Obviously there were a couple of hippie wannabes, as well as a couple of earnest looking twentysomethings with well stocked backpacks. In other words, your typical Yosemite crowd.

*Guarantee void in perpetuity throughout the entirety of the Milky Way and any adjacent galaxies.