BootsnAll Travel Network
Add this blog to: MyYahoo, Google, Bloglines, RSS


Archive for August, 2007

« Home

CHOCOLATE CAN SAVE YOUR LIFE!!!

Thursday, August 9th, 2007

A cloudy and drizzly Monday, prepped for a snoozy afternoon. All of a sudden the hospital is filled with activity. Ordinary clothes covered with white vests boasting important titles, cots pushed into the PT gym, a hose-down tent popped up outside. “Triage mode” they called it, and not a drill. A small plane had just crashed into a house downtown, about 3 blocks from the hospital. It was burning perilously close to a propane tank, perilously close to neighbors on all sides. We prepared and then waited for the worst: a pilot, passengers, residents, passer-bys, or any of the 3000 cruiseship tourists ambling through town could soon be hustled through the door with varying injuries. But no one came.

The pilot, although unintentionally, did a great job of losing control in a very tidy way, burying the plane in the basement of only one house rather than taking out a whole close-knit neighborhood. The emergency response teams also did a a great job, keeping the fire tidy, thereby preventing huge explosions and trouble. But, the skies hadn’t been as kind, the plane as indestructible, the seatbelts sufficiently protective—everyone in the plane (which had started in a perhaps sunnier Victoria BC) died: a pilot, his fiance, and two daughters aged 9 and 14.

But the resident of the house? She had just left 15 minutes before and was enjoying a chocolate milkshake one block away at Lane 7 Diner. Her cats somehow also intuitively sensed danger and had vacated the scene. It’s true. Chocolate saves lives. Don’t resist.

Want more details: http://www.adn.com/news/alaska/story/9200896p-9117329c.html

 plane crash1.jpg

Posted in US of A | 1 Comment »

Ernie’s Old Time Saloon

Sunday, August 5th, 2007

You can keep your swanky nightclubs–both genders manicured and trendy, Hip Hop, mirrors and sirens; I’ll take Ernie’s any day. That’s right, after two long months, I have finally been initiated into the true nightlife of Sitka. It began with a vow with a coworker and blended into a “hospital chics’ night out,” at least seven of us navigating a 4-block bar crawl and closing down the infamous Ernie’s Saloon. Before memories get bumped aside, here’s what keeps me chuckling after Friday night:  

* The Moose: is it just coincidental or maybe some kind of secret societal “no-no” to visit two dead animal clubs in one day? A coworker signed me into the Elks for lunch and the same night we were signing ourselves rebelliously into the Moose Lodge. The reason: live entertainment provided by “Mark and Lisa.” Lisa, undeniably Alaskan, sings Sugar Ray and Sublime in her koolats and pumps and during a pause between songs urges the audience to come pick her berries.

* I greet a policeman in uniform standing near the Pourhouse bar. He states, “You’re Cindy.” I’m stumped. I haven’t made the Police Blotter yet…that I know of. Turns out to be an easily-solved small town riddle: “You met my friend Bob from Vermont once.” Of course.

* Answering the question of “where do you work?” I now know the medical and surgical history of most of Ernie’s patrons. Reminded me of the bluish foot that was thrust at me in a bar in New Zealand.  Does this also happen to dentists? Plumbers?  Gynecologists?

* Benny: Even before he told me, I knew from the distinctive shape of his white haircut that he’d spent more than a few days as Elvis. Benny asks me to dance and then uses his thick arms to spin me around the dancefloor. Benny hasn’t danced like that for years he tells me, maybe also not after sitting at the bar for so long. I noticed the dance space was necessarily enlarged as innocents on the perimeter lost some toes and beer.

* After chatting with quirky Jimmy in his cowboy hat, belt and boots, he delivers the most entertaining “pick up line” of my life: “So, do you want to come chop some wood sometime?”

* Just another likely Ernie’s regular: Xtra Tuff boots, Alaska sweatshirt…we watched as he ran some unknown liquid through his wiry silver hair then took to the dance floor where he lost the battle with the waistband on his sweats, flashing flinching onlookers a 5-inch crack. Often.

“The hard part about being a bartender is figuring out who is drunk and who is just stupid.”  Richard Braunstein

Posted in US of A | 1 Comment »