The sun did not break through today and I did something new: I made hummus from scratch. Even the tahini (sesame seed) was scratch. It’s tasty but it doesn’t taste like humus.

Last night I met up with the tour coworkers and we had some beers.

It felt a bit awkward: choosing, in the moment, who I was going to be to these people.

Which quirk do I show them first or do I reinvent myself altogether. Like etch-a-sketching myself in Hangman, one body part at a time.

But everyone seemed very relaxed, like they were comfortable to just be themselves. I felt, bored, or simply dissatisfied at the lack of excitement around that. Like I needed an opportunity to drop a zinger, seem flashier somehow, but the structure wasn’t there.
Alaska doesn’t do flash. Alaska does environmentalism and winter gigs somewhere else. Alaska attracts the people comfortable with being under the radar, being environmental lawyers, hiking across the country, or living in Maui part time (granted that is a bit flashy, but Colleen counts for nothing). She fills the extrovert quotient for Ketchikan, she’ll be the only one here.

I have little to contribute about boat talk or how I think some dolphins are smarter than humans.

I also felt a bit pathetic, everyone else is a naturalist or in guest services (both work on the boats and have the option for tips). I’m a dock rep. I’m not a heavy-hitter, a major player, in the league of seafaring souls. I’m a scrub. The money reflects my scrubness.

But, to use my least favorite phrase ever due it’s inherent obviousness, it is what it is. I’m in Alaska, that’s something.

Another place I’ve determined I don’t fit in. Like work, I’ve found several jobs I didn’t like. Maybe it’ll be the same with cities.

Here’s what I’ve learned about this small Alaskan town:

• They run out of things at the grocery store and whole section will be empty.
  • The other day I made a strawberry cake but I couldn’t put real strawberries in it because they were all out of strawberries.
• Check-out lines are always long and take double the time of Atlanta
• Stop lights are always a short wait. They turn within 20 seconds, usually.
• Gas is more expensive than home (Isn’t oil…. from Alaska?)

• No one uses umbrellas here, at least not that I’ve seen. What’s the point? It rains all the time, just use a rainproof jacket with a hood.
• There are more churches here than street lights. How do they all have members? The population is so small.
• Since the sun doesn’t come out much, the brightest thing is the light in the refrigerator. It’s why I keep opening it.

I’ll update the list as things come to me.

I mentioned to Danielle at drinks that I saw a whale when I was at Mountain Point (she was very excited for me). She asked me if he showed his tale and I said I didn’t think so. She said “Oh, that’s Red.” I said “Um, like, you named this whale? How do you know it’s him?” and she laughed: “Oh he’s an idiot and we’ve been seeing a lot of him from the boat. We see the same whales and their babies, sometimes.” He doesn’t lift up his tale, ever.” Noted.