There is always one hotel

August 15, 2003

There is always one hotel in the industrial park. Cheap land. Nothing nearby except the hotel bar and restaurant. Guaranteed business. I have been stranded in these outlands so many times the boredom seems to have its own unique flavour. This can be its own fresh hell. It even makes the TV seem less exciting. Seven story space stations with teal waistcoated minions in dress slacks. Round about the building are logos on expansive lawns and low slung square boxes looming desolate after 5pm. Oh yes...and there are cars and trucks and their smells. There are no sidewalks in industrial parks. Why would there be? The seams of the turf are still visible indicating this was unnatural green growth that would never be allowed to be there without it being a conscious decision -- not native to these parts. Having had shipping & receiving and warehouse jobs my soul ice skates back to that gray fluorescent space. A moving coma of task oriented hours punctuated by dirty jokes, accidents and lunch. Finding ways to look busy when you weren’t. Finding ways to steal glimpses of sunlight. Life on the tarmac.
I went for a run here because there was no place else to go. I ran past “Industrial Sandwich”. “Unpainted Furniture”. “Your Leaf Spring Superstore”. Yes. No reason to hide it. Things will not taste better or be as interesting here. It is understood. Then I saw it. At first I thought it was a fire hydrant painted a sandy colour to hip up the landscaping in front of the Teamster’s local. Then it moved. A hare...a jack rabbit. Not just a rabbit. Fuck no. These things are more related to white tailed deer than bunnies. Huge long ears and legs to match. I stopped so as not to startle it. It had probably stopped so I wouldn’t notice it. I thought about my own entertainment and how little of it I had at this time. I wanted to see what it looked liked when this creature ran but I didn’t want to see just a little bit. When a hare runs it looks more like an impala than a bunny. It bounds like the ibex running from the cheetah. The legs are thin and in proportion to a medium sized dog. I moved slowly toward it with the full intent to chase it at the top of my stride as soon as it gave flight. I guess the darned thing had scoped this turf for a long time and had become accustomed to the Teamsters ecosystem. Nobody ever came down this road after 5pm. Nobody ever moved too quickly. Nobody was ever interested in a hare unless it was already in a pre-wrapped sandwich or on a magazine logo. Teamsters. I was a rogue human. The hare let me get to within fifteen feet before it even flinched. As soon as it flinched I charged. For all you animal rights people who feel their gaunch tightening...get a life...of course I’d never catch it. I once tried my hand at rudimentary hunting with a b.b. gun back in my preteen days. I winged a Robin and it has haunted me ever since. I don’t even fish. My best chum Ross used to hunt me with the same bb gun ( it was his ) and shoot me with little pieces of carrot. That really hurt. I know what it is like to be the prey. The cops later took his gun away when they caught us in the ravine taking target practice on the LP records that skipped too much to play anymore. I think it was BTO’s “Not Fragile” we were shooting at the time (but we kept the cover).
Back to the hare. It was beautiful to watch and a test of my stamina. He had his route all planned out. At one point he thought he lost me in the central courtyard between the wings of the building. He cut a sharp right when he rounded the corner of the building before me and did the standing still trick again. This is the jack rabbit equivalent to Jim Rockford pulling into a parking space during the car chase with those two bent nosed thugs in the plaid jackets and the wide lapels. Usually the thugs drive by but . . . I was ready. I tore after him and he cut a hard left and hit open turf out on the berm that fronts the building on the roadside. I lost him before I ran out of gas but I was huffing pretty hard. When you have something in your sights you push your body a lot harder than you think. You learn to skate much faster when you have a puck and someone is chasing you trying to take it away.
Its been downhill ever since. I’m sure the hare knew I was just bored and he ran more out of a sense of dedication to his craft. Its what they do. If I came close enough to touch him I wouldn’t have done it. I’ve seen what the rabbit who guards the cave of Kyre Bannoch can do. They can bite through chain mail right to your jugular.
The sky here is full of ash and orange light. The giant forrest fires are nearby. I hope the hare will still have a place to go and hasn’t settled for this dump. I guess the one advantage is that the predators here are slow, stupid and easily amused.