I completely refuse to get online six months in advance and book any of the U.S. Forest Service cabins in the woods around Juneau.
I specifically left New York City many years ago precisely so that I wouldn't have to compete for space with ten zillion other people. So you can imagine that the last thing I feel like doing is getting on my laptop in November so I can book a night in the forest for the following June as if I were trying to buy floor seats to a fucking U2 concert.
But I'm glad I have friends who are willing to make the effort to reserve cabins and invite me along with them at the last minute. That's where I'm going tonight, along with Paige, who I have no doubt will gamely hike the roughly 5.5 miles to the Eagle Glacier cabin and the 5.5. miles back out with minimal complaining.
I mean, a kid who can balance a bottle of beer on her head can do anything, especially with the benefit of 19 hours of Alaskan summer daylight and attending a hiking day camp all week this past week. She's a tough kid for sure.
The problem with Paige, though, is she
sort of definitely thinks she knows fucking everything. Seriously you cannot tell this girl jack shit. She has the intentions and autonomy of an 18 year old, with the judgment of an 8 year old. Thus, whenever we pack for a one night cabin trip (which sadly requires the exact same amount of shit you need for 10-night cabin trip), I have to fight her every step of the way.
My friend who booked the cabin gave me very specific instructions for what Paige and I needed to contribute in terms of food and supplies, and I told Paige this in no uncertain terms. Yet that didn't stop her from doing/saying this at the grocery store on our supply run:
"Can we get drinkable yogurt? I know where the instant coffee is. You don't know where anything is in here. Can we get this beef jerky? Why not? I don't like these berries. You're not in the right place, mom. I come here more than you. Can I get this smoothie? Can we buy some M&Ms? Can we get this maple flavored oatmeal for breakfast? I think you're going to be really unhappy unless you get this Hazelnut Coffee Mate. Don't get a plastic bag. You're doing it wrong. I think we should get these apples instead. Can I have these dried mangoes to eat on the way home?"
I'm trying to figure out the best way to torture Paige in return. I'm thinking of just singing Meghan Trainor's "NO" in her ear, nonstop, for every minute of this trip . . .