Pacific Northwest

The Chool Bus (ch18)

CHAPTER 18: The Forks crash through dense Oregon forests dodging Sasquatch and Mother Nature.

As the research tour meandered through Pacific Northwest territory, the Forks made their way to scheduled stops from Seattle to Tacoma, from Portland to Eugene, and Oregon’s Lane Community College…a last stop before taking some time to visit Jack’s cousin in Coquille. The pace was frenetic as Portland’s traffic congestion affected the itinerary in ways not accurately factored by Jack and Billie. And though she was able to stay calm, Billie was hard pressed to hit all planned destinations on time. The stretch from Corvallis to Eugene was a welcomed respite…the gang was ready to let their hair down and enjoy some down-time in Coquille. 

From Eugene, they made their way to Florence and though running late, they decided to push on down the 101 Coastal Highway to Coos Bay where they could settle at the local 24-hour fitness club. Again, the gang was running late. The sun slowly disappeared, a soupy fog/biblical downpour rolled in, visibility inched ever closer to nil, and Billie was obliged to nudge the Chool Bus through this leg of the trip slowly, hazard flashers blazing. It was a white knuckle stretch for Billie but Jack was snoozing in his sleeping berth, Buck was in the passenger seat providing moral support, and Professor T was anxiously staring out the window hypnotized by the downpour, the claustrophobia-inducing tree walls persisting for miles and miles.

In this somewhat nightmarish crawl through the sodden darkness, Professor T’s thoughts ran wild with replays of conversations involving Abigail’s attorneys and the court-appointed mediator. On one hand, Professor T understood the #metoo movement was a necessary seismic correction in gender relations. It wasn’t just about high-profile takedowns… it was a fundamental demand for dignity and the right to exist in professional and private spaces without the threat of predatory behavior. It forced long-overdue conversations about consent, power dynamics, and the invisible labor women have historically carried. 

On the other hand, the rise of the “Manosphere”…the world of Alpha-grindset podcasts and “bro” influencers…seemed a bit more than a random backlash to Mork Thompson. More like a symptom of deep-seated identity metamorphosis. Professor T recognized traditional roles (provider, protector) were becoming less tied to economic reality. Where many were feeling disempowered at best, their very existence increasingly viewed as inherently problematic at worse. He felt his fellows were looking for a script that could provide purpose, strength, or at least, a sense of belonging.

He considered himself savvy to this dynamic and viewed himself sympathetic to the plight of women. He recalled John Lennon’s song, Woman is the Ni***r of the World. Professor T’s take was that, due to their willingness to sign up for nature’s demands in the process of proliferating the species, they should be more accurately be considered heroes of the world. Not to mention the monthly pain of simply existing. In short, Professor T considered himself in league with the ladies. 

Abigail surely knew this about him, so all things considered, Professor T concluded Abigail’s campaign was a setup. He suspected she was caught up in a nefarious plan hatched by the ethically challenged duo, Scheizer and Bok. In the beginning he experienced self-doubt, he truly wondered if his outlook had been so out of whack that her case was legit, but then he recalled an encounter with the shysters where they appeared to be provoking him. Scheizer, with his fragile and bony constitution always ended up standing behind Bok, pasty, bloated, and shabbily dressed.

It seemed they were trying to provoke Professor T to assault one of them. He even thought he heard Scheizer say something to the effect of, “Does this inquiry anger you? Perhaps you would like to give my partner a shove, or maybe a poke in the jaw?” 

Of course, Professor T could only look on with astonishment. In his thinking, members of the professional class, doctors, teachers, lawyers, etc. were always well intended and professional in their day to day interactions. When it appeared someone with the privilege of representing clients in a court of law was exhibiting grasping and corrupt behavior, he experienced a shock of cognitive dissonance. Always wary of falling into a trap of fundamental attribution error, Professor T’s response, when encountering corruption, was quick to explain it away by acknowledging everyone has their share of battles, telling himself he must be misinterpreting motives of those who appear to be behaving in less than ethical ways. 

***

Breaking Professor T’s reverie, a thunder crash rattled the cabinets. Billie confessed later it gave her a good jump scare. But just before the crash, in that instant of bright illumination, Professor T could have sworn he saw a lumbering, hairy figure in the trees. And for the rest of the stretch to Coos Bay, he scanned the fog and rain obscured dense tree belt for more evidence of forest dwelling wookies. Of course nothing more would appear in the good professor’s visual field. He decided to keep this sighting to himself as it would never do to have a respected academic confessing belief in the Sasquatch mythology. It was difficult to hold his tongue, but he was traveling with friends so he resolved to make a joke about the sighting over dinner once the Chool Bus was parked for the night…a trial balloon to check his traveling companions’ reaction.

NEXT WEEK:
The White-Knuckle Storm Crawl Continues… Tales of Ghosts, Toxic Waste Contamination, and GOLD in Coquille.

GO BACK => Preface and Chapter Links

The Chool Bus (ch13)

CHAPTER 13: The Forks and Buck witness the nation’s fibrillating heart a little more directly than anticipated in the Pacific Northwest.

The Forks had a few days to make the trip to Coeur d’Alene where the next set of interviews were scheduled to be conducted at the University of Idaho. After breakfasting at a Salt Lake mom & pop pancake house, they set off for Missoula, Montana. It would be nearly eight hours on the road, but Billie was up for the challenge as some of the nation’s finest hot springs are located there. She was excited to check out some of the less developed spots for a truly unique communion with mother nature. 

Toward the back of the Chool Bus, the hypnotizing hum of rubber and asphalt lulled Professor T to some fitful napping. He remembered at least three moments between sleep and wakefulness where the dream, or nightmare, stuck to his conscious memory like peanut butter on the roof of your mouth when there’s too much PB and not enough J. One of these, in particular, had the good professor sort of dreading this push into the Great American Redoubt (GAR), an area of the country deeply steeped in apocalyptic religious fundamentalism.

Now, Professor T is a live-and-let-live secular humanist at heart, one hundred percent in support of the 1st Amendment’s explicit provision of religious practice free from government involvement (for or against) but the folks in the GAR of Northern Idaho, Eastern Washington/Oregon, had been slowly creating a space where their brand of apocalyptic Christianity was seeping into a cultural dominance. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, thought Professor T, as long as they don’t try to draw everyone into their oxygen deprived world view. He wasn’t worried for himself so much as for Billie’s safety as a person of gender fluidity. 

It didn’t help that Professor T was watching a documentary on YouTube about the GAR, drifting in and out around the point where some of the worst extremists urged followers to seek out and identify Communists, Jihadists, Antifa & BLM. When responding to a critique over the white nationalist flavor of their apparent political goals, they loudly declared their token black pastor negated all claims of their wish to establish a white ethnostate set to secede from the union like those southern states in the mid-19th Century. Of course, that separation led to a bloody civil war and the radical element of the GAR seemed anxious for a rematch. 

In that misty state between wakefulness and dreaming, Professor T heard voices declaring California and the i25 corridor in Colorado the playground of the devil… spiritual warfare … good-vs-evil. There’s mention of a manifesto that reads like the Anarchists Cookbook for prepper GAR compatriots… lots of tactical advice. For example, in The Biblical Basis for War: A Plan For Creating a New Theocracy Through Violence. First, “Make an offer of peace before declaring war.” This offer would not be a negotiation or compromise of perceived righteousness. Non Christians MUST surrender on terms of the GAR’s brand of justice, including the halting of all abortions, same sex marriage, idolatry, occultism (read: no Wicca, or anything resembling paganism), no communism (whatever that’s supposed to mean), and all must obey biblical law (like the Taliban in Afghanistan). Those who comply must pay the GAR’s taxes and those males who refuse… will be killed… read that again… they. will. be. killed!

“Comply or die.” Jack was hip to the irony of folks displaying Gadsden Flags with a snake expressing a desire that tyrannical government entities refrain from stepping near them… the folks who trumpeted warnings of a nationwide gun confiscation and establishment of concentration camps by the previous administration were now silent as their own political party’s federal government was snapping up abandoned warehouses for the stated purpose of facilitating mass deportation of illegal immigrants. As well, sending divisions of armed goon squads into cities run by political opponents.

“Irony is dead,” Jack mumbled as Professor T voiced his increasing apprehension approaching the GAR. 

“Yes, dead, but unacknowledged irony doesn’t mean mixing with the folks in the GAR could be dangerous… yet.” Professor T cued up an interview featuring a librarian from the Coeur d’Alene area who had spent time in law enforcement during the bad old days when Neo-Nazi groups had set up compounds in the area, some taking their views to extremes with the murder of 1980s talk radio personality, Alan Berg. She said she was certain Idaho would not allow that sort of militant activity again. 

“But still,” Jack’s 6th sense was tingling. He was worried they might run into some trouble poking around asking questions of the GAR locals. 

“Not to worry,” Buck was listening to Jack and Professor T’s conversation. “I know plenty of rodeo dudes from Northern Idaho, and they say all of that great secessionist redoubt talk is empty bluster. You know, like in Iran when they chant ‘Death to America’. Really, all they’re saying is they don’t like our one sided approach to Middle East diplomacy. It’s how they express dissatisfaction.”

“Take the goddamn next exit,” Sam Jackson barked from Siri’s Drunk Sister’s bluetooth audio link.

“Well, i don’t much care about politics, but i am hungry,” Billie had to weigh in as she steered the Chool Bus into a truck stop somewhere around Idaho Falls. “Let’s get some truck stop food.”

NEXT WEEK:
Professor T steps in it again, and Billie arranges a mineral hot spring rendezvous with a kindred spirit.

GO BACK => Preface and Chapter Links