Filling In The Blanks:The Transformation

We had been on the road for a month now. I was becoming comfortable with myself out here and any angst I felt about the departure from my home had all but diminished. We had fallen into the groove of life on the road and the stand still era of San Fernando suburbia was left far behind. To think it was only mere weeks ago that I faced the prospect of a life, or lack of life in a foreign land fighting an enemy of who I knew nothing more than the color of his skin, was nearly incomprehensible. Rather than contemplating life or death and the grounds on which either would occur, I was sitting on an orange crate, counting mile markers and thinking about the next time I'd have some alone time in the shower. While Jeff was willing to lay down with anything that menstruated, I was a bit harder to please. Whether it was my taste, my self-conscious ways or my crippling shyness, I remained the only one in a month in this van who had yet to draw the curtains for anything more than sleeping. We'd only meet girls in passing, they'd stick around for a few hours, sometimes only minutes at a gas station or rest stop and if they had some pot we'd smoke it, but most of time we'd just share a few beers to loosen up. I called my girlfriend when I could. It's funny, but I don't even remember her name, anyways, she meant a lot to me at the time, I just couldn't spend our change on phone calls. Most of the coins we collected were dedicated to gas and food, mostly bread. While Skip and Jeff would pass the time glorifying their of conquest of flesh, I'd sit in the back and document our journey. I kept a journal and while I was never 100% honest, even when alone, there was enough in there to induct all of us to the single life when we finally came home. Jeff knew this and was always weary about it even though out of everyone it was him who would relish and belly laugh and scream, "BRAVO, BRAVO", when I'd recap his libertine antics and the seemingly impossible situations Skip found himself in, like when he fell into Old Faithful. The thermal heated water burnt his leg pretty bad, but he was too embarrassed to treat it.

We had made it into Canada and we were staying at a small shelter in the back of a church right outside of Vancouver. Before crossing the border in Washington we partied with a group of guys who had just come back from the Queen Charlotte Islands off the coast of British Columbia. In an unlikely circumstance, we found our first real destination. These guys told us for free lodging, food and a few dollars a week they had worked at a wild animal park, caring for the elephants, lions and whatever other exotic creatures the owner Chet flew in. I laughed so hard at the imagery of that situation. A bunch of faux hippies in a VW van adorned with the American flag, working amongst tigers, zebras and snakes in our corduroys and bandanas. We were from the city; the wildest animals we had been in contact with were squirrels and alley cats. What interest would the owner of a wild animal park have in us? As I sat there laughing, egging on Jeff and Skip, the former employees bowed their head in silence and although they didn't say anything was wrong, we all got the hint. We left it at that, still curious about their attitudes, but drove off excited at the prospect of making money.

Chet was the type of guy you always felt on edge around. You were happy he was friendly to you, but always cautious not to say the wrong things around him.  It's still unclear how he ended up owning a wild animal park in British Columbia, because as far as we could tell he was from New York and had no particular fondness for what he did. He had scars on his face, but not from burns or fights or even the lions. Some were acne related, but most looked like they were from scratching or picking. I remember his eyes well. They were two completely different colors, one blue and one brown and while talking to you he'd open them wide and you'd see his corneas shake. He assigned us all to different areas of the park. Jeff worked with the lions and tigers, skip with the ostriches, wild boars and zebras and me, I was put with the elephants. We were given little to no training, but the majority of our duties consisted of feeding the animals, and picking up their shit. Skip and Jeff put in the bare minimum, but I actually enjoyed my job. The elephant I worked with, Joely, took a liking to me. When I first started with her I'd keep my distance, only occasionally trying to touch her leg, or get her to acknowledge me. After a little more than a week, she began approaching. She'd nudge me with her massive head and her ears would slap my body. She'd back up and flip her trunk high in the air and let out a, "huffff" as she opened and then closed her jaw. I was scrubbing her stall the first time it happened. I felt her grab me by the waist and begin to squeeze. I honestly thought she was going to eat me. I squirmed for only a moment before realizing it was pointless. She was too strong, and I too small. I relaxed and as I did she lifted me high into the air, suspending me horizantally at least ten feet above the ground. She held me here, her trunk bobbed up and down from the lopsided weight of my body. Jeff and Skip happened to see this and came running. She began shaking me violently as they drew near, screaming at them to stop. She lifted me higher into the air now, her trunk stiff and vertical. The leather boots I wore caused my legs to dangle back and forth and I could feel the tiny bones in my back cracking amidst the awkward distribution of weight. I began talking to her, not really saying anything, but just mumbling in a comforting tone as a mother does when her son bumps his head. Joely began to lower, but before hope could settle in she snapped me high into the air, I held my breath, and gracefully placed me between her ears. She retracted her trunk, looked straight at Jeff and Skip and softly bounced her head side to side as if to say, "got you!" This became routine for us. I'd come to work, clean up a bit and then Joely would put me on top her head and we'd walk around. It seems surreal now, but in a shoebox somewhere beneath the bed, I've got a picture or two. We had saved up a decent amount of money during our time on the Island, and all of us were feeling the itch to get back on the road. As we were settling up with Chet he mentioned Joely. "I saw you with that elephant. You should thank your lucky stars you survived. The reason I brought you guys on bored was because that big fat bitch over there killed her last handler, a kid from Washington, around your age. Wrapped him up in her trunk and threw him to the ground repeatedly. Stepped on him after the beating was over. There was nothing we could do. His friends were so shaken up by it, they all headed back home. I'd kill her if she wasn't such a money maker."

Unsettled and with a new sense of urgency we made our way off of the island and back to the van. After a jumpstart and a fresh tank of gas, we were off, headed south to Tofino, where Chet had told us a commune of people lived, free spirited, free loving and liberal with their food and drink. We arrived in our van, our hair had grown long and our beards were really starting to come in. We had visually transformed into the prototypical American hippie, but none of us would admit to that. The first night at the commune was lonely. We watched from the van, as bonfires grew tall into the sky and sounds of pleasure echoed between the meadows and sand. A divide stood between us and them. We were loose, yet retained many of the inhibitions that kept us distinct from the hippie. We quickly realized that in order to fit in here, to take advantage of the lodging, the amenities, the food and soon the women, we'd have to internalize our exteriors and accept the nature of a hippie.