When she innocently asked Where in the country do they cut down trees? Although we only just barely knew each other I immediately started to woo her with promises of clearcuts and Kristmastown, USA. The Charm Offensive is mighty and powerful; she tried to resist but finally relented and flew up for the last week of the trip.
Ana wanted to find a lumberjack to learn about the woods, and a bad boy for character study and personal amusement. The credentials to qualify as a lumberjack were vague, but her Bad Boy criteria were specific: tall, tough, tattooed preferably including neck , smart, and emotionally unavailable. It was perhaps not entirely practical to search for a lumberjack in the bars of Capitol Hill, but a girl has to make do with the available resources — and I figured we could find a bad boy without too much effort.
During the day we trekked all over Seattle and Tacoma making new friends and haphazardly researching the history of logging. I showed her the original encampment at Alki, and the true Skid Row, and we picked blackberries at Camp 6 on Point Defiance. Each excursion was fantastically amusing; though after a few days immersed in my highly efficient antics Ana did think to inquire Have I joined a cult?
At night we scoured all of my normal haunts with no success, until a flash of inspiration took us to Kincora, where whole tables of bad boys turned to stare at us as we walked in. We ended up at a table with the Himsa kids, who pointed out a candidate with the comment His dick is so big it would break you.
He admitted quite reluctantly that he used to have a wood business. I had forgotten that hanging out with smut writers cranks up the innuendo and adventure ratio. Ana gained valuable insight on the technical aspects of logging, but more importantly, the culture of my hometown. BP looks and sounds just like my cousins and may well be one; in the middle of his anecdote about hurling flaming axes I interrupted and asked him to verify that people used to nail live kittens to trees.
