Permed White Hair

I check my email at the hotel right by our shack. It’s only a 15 min bike ride, so it’s the closest around, and I have to say I find great amusement watching all the tourists flowing through the lobby as I steal my way onto their wireless. There’s a comforting consistency in these people, mostly gray haired, with bellies overflowing their pants, held up by both belt and suspenders at the same time, wobbling around looking like acorns on stick legs. They also smell like the entire perfume section at Macy’s, and most of them talk about moose and northern lights with an overly excited enthusiasm so common in americans. I like to play the guessing game as to why they’re here, but judging by their age it seems most of them want to see the 49th state and all its vastness because they've already taken their mobile home everywhere else. Perhaps it is a last minute preparation for when they themselves have moved on to their own Last Frontier.