Breaker Whiskey

[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

[stray morse beeps]

[click]

Birdie??? Birdie, are you there?

[click, static]

Birdie.  Do you read?

[click, static]

Goddammit. 

I could have sworn that I heard…

[click, static]

I was tuning through the channels and there were beeps that sounded like you. Like you were trying to send something. 

[click, static]

(sighs) Maybe I’m imagining things. Wanting to hear from you. 

(laughs) You know, it sort of reminds me of sitting by the phone waiting for a date to call, or whatever. 

Not that I ever did that much dating, but I remember the first time I had a genuinely good date, I was twenty-one, living in that terrible shoebox apartment with a million other people, and I went on this date with this—uh, they were a friend of a friend of a friend, one of those set ups that happens when you’re in your twenties and you know a ton of people but you don’t really know any of them. Did you experience that?

(mumbling) I guess I don’t even know how old you are. 

Anyway, I’d met a bunch of people through my roommates and my job and a few of the bars that I would frequent and I had this one friend, Sissy, who made it her life’s mission to set everyone in the world up. It didn’t matter how tenuous the connection between her and the two parties were, she was shameless anyway. 

So she set me up with—lets call them “K”. K worked on Wall Street, which made me immediately suspicious but Sissy assured me that they were cool because the friend that she knew them through was a choreographer and had good taste in people. I don’t know, I agreed because, again, really lonely and also I thought if K was a Wall Street person, maybe I’d get dinner at a really fancy restaurant out of it, somewhere I could order a twenty dollar glass of wine or something. 

But it wasn’t like that at all. K took me to get gyros at this street vendor that they swore was the best food in the city. And it was pretty good and K paid, so I was plenty happy. And then we went to a jazz club where they knew the owner, so we got the best seats and really good service and…I don’t know. It was nice, to be somewhere that treated you like you were special. 

And that all would’ve been enough for me to go out with K again—I was twenty-one and dead broke, I would’ve gone on as many dates as I could if it meant I got a free meal or a good night on the town. But, much to my surprise, I had fun. Sissy had been right. K was funny, and smart—one of those people you’d never run out of things to talk about with. I hadn’t really experienced that before. 

So we exchanged numbers at the end of the date—kissed on the cheek to say goodbye, I think maybe we were both nervous—and I waited by the phone for days. I drove my roommates insane—any time I came home from work I’d hound them about if anyone had called when I was gone. We didn’t have a phone service, so we were pretty reliant on one of us being home at all times, which usually someone was. But there was nothing. 

Eventually I just bit the bullet and I called K—who did have a phone service, of course, which is what I got when I called. It’s what I got every time I called. And I’d leave my name and number with the service every time—even starting saying when I’d be likely to be home so they could tell K when was best to call back and…the phone stayed silent. 

[click, static]

Please don’t stop answering my calls. Or, if you do, at least give me a reason. K never did. 

[click, static]

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[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static] (yawn) Good morning, Birdie. 

[click, static]

Sorry—good morning, Birdie. 

Man, sleeping in my car is not as tolerable after sleeping in a comfortable sleeping bag on the ground for a few nights. Not that sleeping on the ground is all that comfy, but at least I could stretch out. 

I’m headed back out to where I made camp in a bit—I really just wanted to come and grab some more food and check to see if…

[click, static]

Well, I assume you’re still busy doing whatever it is you’re doing. But I don’t know what on earth could have kept you occupied this whole time. Are you talking to someone else? Is that even possible? If you are, would it be weird to ask for an introduction?

I just hope you’re not hurt or—or worse. I don’t know what I’d do if, um—

[click, static]

I’ll be back tomorrow morning. The exercise is good and maybe I’ll even try to find a good campsite closer to the car so I can check more often. 

Just…if you hear this—please send something along. Anything. A single beep. Just to let me know you’re there. Um..

Yeah, okay. Talk to you tomorrow. 

[click, static]

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[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

Hey, Birdie.

[click, static]

It is really goddamn late. And goddamned dark. I wanted to wait for the worst of the heat of the day to pass before hiking back to the car, but I think I miscalculated, because I’ve been hiking in the dark for way too long.

Not that it’s been so hot here, but the sun is strong. All that big sky, I guess. The sun is strong and my skin is pale. All my freckles are popping out like it’s the middle of summer not October.

I’ve been out in the wild for the last couple of days. I packed up my backpack after the last transmission and set out into the great unknown. I mean, not entirely unknown—I’m not stupid, I made sure to get a map of the area I’m in, but just 10 minutes on foot away from where I parked the car, and I felt like I was in some version of the world that had never had any people in it at all.

Any semblance of a hiking trail is long gone but the terrains not that bad, especially now with my new boots. I don’t know how far into the wild I got exactly. I walked for a couple of hours so a few miles at least, but I found this beautiful spot by this little pond with this little waterfall, sunlight streaming through the trees. I set up camp there and slept under the stars for a few nights. And with being by the pond I can actually see the sky—it wasn’t blocked out by the treetops.

My god, the stars. I guess I haven’t looked up in a while because I was shocked by how many there were. I mean, there hasn’t been light pollution in six years, so I think probably most of the sky in the whole country is like this, but I guess I’ve never really looked. I wish I knew something about the constellations. I know the big dipper and Orion‘s belt and the little dipper and I think I found Polaris? Although I don’t know, is it even the right time of year to see Polaris? Can you see it all year round? Can you see it from the hemisphere I’m in?

I don’t know. Clearly I don’t know anything at all about the night sky. But it does make me wonder…you know, are there any other people up there on those other planets somewhere amongst the stars? I think—I think we were pretty close to actually, you know, exploring space. We got people up there at least, even if they just you know, spun around a bit and came back. But that in of itself…I mean, that felt insurmountable when I was younger. So who knows what we could’ve accomplished with more time.

[click, static]

But it’s a really nice thought—that we’re not alone in the universe. Not in a god way or any kind of higher power way, just…it’s lonely. All of it.

[click, static]

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[TRANSCRIPT]

[static]

(morse code, tuning radio, radio snippets, sonic chaos) 

(a voice tries to break through)

[static]

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[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

Breaker, breaker, this is WAR1974, talking to even more of no one than before, because I am deep in the Wyoming wilderness.

I mean, most of Wyoming is wilderness. But I’m intentionally heading off the well beaten path onto the road less traveled. I raided a camping store in Jackson—the whole town was untouched. Pristine, almost, if you ignored how overgrown the streets have become. I even saw—I even saw some Bighorn sheep wandering through main street, though they bounded off before I could get close.

I still need to get that polaroid. Or maybe I should go to a library again and learn how to develop film. Not that I’ve been paying close attention to how many film cameras are lying around. But, well, I guess I haven’t been looking all that hard for a polaroid camera either.

Anyway, the camping store was a gold mine. I got a much more modern camper stove, a tent, some knives, a new axe, fire starters—you name

it. But the stuff I’m really excited about is my new winter coat and new winter boots.

They didn’t have very many women’s clothes—really just some gloves —but I’ve always liked shopping in the men’s section anyway. It took me a bit to find boots small enough but I’m not that small myself and with all the thick socks I got, I think it’ll work out fine.

So, this is all to say—I am going camping. Honest-to-god camping. I haven’t been camping in...jesus, maybe twenty years? But I mean, but what have I been doing the last six years if not a weird form of camping —

[click, static]

It’s surprisingly warm here. I don’t know why I expected October in Wyoming to be below freezing, but it’s in the low sixties today. Practically bikini weather.

I doubt I’ll stay when the frost comes, unless I want to hole up in cabin somewhere, but, I don’t know, a week or so of sleeping under the stars instead of roadside motels or my passenger seat might be just the thing.

I’m not going to be able to take the radio with me obviously—I don’t have any way to power it outside of the car. I guess I should add a battery-powered radio to my list of things to pick up.

So, it might be a few days before you hear from me. I think I’m going to hike into National Park a little, find a good spot to camp. But I don’t want to carry all that much. So. You know, I’ll be back.

Not that you’ve said anything in a while. It would be good to hear from you, Birdie.

[click, static]

But for now, this is Whiskey, going quiet. [click, static]

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[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

So if you’ve got a question, send it on over. I’m bored. I’m stopped right now, eating some dinner, and—well, if I thought

That’s not fair to Colorado—I don’t know that there’s any purpose in comparing the two. Wyoming is just...its even more untouched by... anything. It’s empty in the same way the rest of the country is empty, except it doesn’t feel so hopeless here. The emptiness sits well inside of Wyoming, like that’s how it’s supposed to be.

It’s—it’s overwhelming. Is that silly? To be overwhelmed by the beauty of nature?

I would not describe myself as a particularly sentimental person. I know that might come as a shock, considering all my reminiscing yesterday and...well, all the other days, but what else is there to do but reminisce? It feels like my entire life is in the past and all that’s ahead of me is thinking about the days that have already gone by. All I have is nostalgia

Maybe that’s why looking at the Grand Tetons feels so...(deep breath) enormous. Like I’ve just breathed fresh air for the first time in a long time. I’ve been on the road for months and...

the minimum they should picked up stakes and moved on to find whatever bits of land weren’t already occupied, I don’t really know how much of that kind of land there was back then but—

All I’m trying to understand is that I think I understand a little why the Donner Party risked it. I lived in the Midwest and the Northeast pretty much my whole life and there is beauty there—there is so much beauty —but...maybe it’s the emptiness, maybe its the bigness, maybe its just the sheer fucking novelty of it but I...I feel free.

[click, static]

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[TRANSCRIPT]

Another gas station today, right over the border in Wyoming and they had this tiny little buffalo toy at the counter. He’s sitting on my dashboard now, watching over the road as I drive.

Maybe I’m overthinking it. [click, static]

[click, static]

You know, he’d talk to the farmer for a while, ask them what their speciality was, if there was a jam they liked best, or if they had any fruit

[click, static]

Maybe that’s why I’ve never really needed very much to be content. [click, static]

I don’t really like blackberries anymore. Just the smell of them makes something inside me ache. Harry...

Harry stopped growing them in our garden after the first year. I think, somehow, she knew.

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[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

Breaker, breaker, this is Whiskey Alpha Romeo, staring at the Rocky Mountains.

[click, static]

Colorado is...it’s beautiful. I don’t know what I expected, but somehow the mountains are even larger than I ever thought they would be. They just... loom over everything. And yet, the sky is still so huge. I didn’t know the sky could be this big. I can’t quite explain it, the sky gets big in Kansas and Texas too but it just feels...it feels different here.

Have you been to Colorado, Birdie? Or seen the Rockies at all? I look at those and I think...yeah, I’m not driving over that. I do want to go to Wyoming—I mean, I’m so close—but then I’m going to go all the way south before trying to get to the coast. Seeing just how enormous—and how absolutely covered in snow—the mountains are, it’s obvious how the Donner Party happened. I can’t imagine trying to trek over those peaks, through that snow, with wagons and children and...

[click, static]

Would it be easier, do you think, if I had people with me? Not getting over the Rockies, but any of this. Not that I’m having a hard time surviving, not really, but would it be easier to...I don’t want to say “stay sane”, but I—

[click, static]

I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I just keep thinking about the Donner Party trying to get somewhere new, somewhere they could start a life, build a life, and then being trapped all together, basically just waiting to die. Was it better to know that you weren’t alone? Or was it worse because you’d failed to take care of the people around you? Is survival worth it if the only person that survives is yourself?

[click, static]

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Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday.

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[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

I’ve been trying to think of a question to ask you, Birdie. It is my turn after all. But I’m coming up short.

[click, static]

It’s not that there aren’t a million and one things that I want to know. There’s too much. That’s part of the problem. The other problem is that...well, uh, I’ve never been good at small talk. I’ve never liked it all that much. That’s not to say I can’t do it or that every conversation I have needs to be deep and important and without a single wasted word —I mean, obviously that’s not true. But I guess what I mean is, I don’t know how to ask a question small enough that it’s answer can be contained in dots and dashes.

[click, static]

Is the answer to ask yes or no questions? Play the most elaborate game of twenty questions that doesn’t just go on for twenty questions, but goes on forever?

[click, static]

This is a strange kind of intimacy. You know so much about me—more than I likely would have ever told you had we met in person. I’ve never been in the habit of disclosing my profession or talking about my family to...anyone? There’s a space between small talk and telling someone anything personal and that’s the space I usually try to occupy.

And I know so little about you. But I’d like to think that what you’ve told me—or tried to tell me—has been significant. Whatever happened with your job is clearly important to you, or had some major negative affect on your life—and then you asking about my job got me thinking...

[click, static]

These things don’t matter anymore. The entire structure of our society is gone. So why is it still bothering you? There are things that still bother me, still keep me up at night, but not the fact that I used to steal art from rich people or expensive museums. I barely cared about the legality or morality of what I was doing while I was doing it, I certainly don’t give a shit now. I could go and steal the goddamn Mona Lisa and it wouldn’t matter.

So why do you care? What difference does any of it make? [click, static]

I guess that’s not really an easy question to answer succinctly. So let me put it in yes or no terms: do you think it still matters? Whatever you did before, whatever happened with it, does it still matter?

[click, static]

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Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday.

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[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

I stopped in at a gas station when I got over the Colorado border and there were some brochures about, you know, various stuff in the area, including a petrified wood building. So that’s where I am now.

It looks like it was actually a gas station itself, or an auto shop, or something. There are a bunch of broken down cars here at least. And it’s...it’s weird—yeah, it’s weird. I wish I could show it to you. It doesn't look like wood at all, it looks like someone very haphazardly mortared together a bunch of misshapen rocks.

[click, static]

It’s...(laughs) it’s ugly if I’m honest. There’s something charming about that. According to the sign in the front, it’s made of wood that’s 175 million years old. The fact that something that ancient and incredible—I mean, what is petrified wood, even?—has been made into something so...mundane and unappealing is...I don’t know. There’s something very American about it.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s still very, very cool. There’s almost a castle-ish quality to it, the way it’s all jagged at the top. Or like it, I don’t know, like it grew up from the ground.

[click, static]

I wonder what compelled someone to build this? Where did they get all the wood. Why did they choose this of all things as the purpose to put that wood to.

[click, static]

No postcard to get this time, so I’ll just have to commit to memory. And maybe you can too, and it’ll be like we both saw it.

[click, static]

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