We planned to leave Yosemite yesterday after two glorious days of camping, hiking, freezing, peeing in our special pee-only bottle. But the van is a little broken again and so it's day four now, which is generally about how long it takes me to lose interest in most hobbies, relationships, vistas. I'm that person blogging in Yosemite on a beautiful fucking day. It's alright people - I already hiked to the top of a waterfall and let the mist do its thing all over me. It's also alright because it's what every other tourist here wishes they were doing. Everyone pretends they're looking at the scenery but I know they're really just looking for outlets to charge their iPads - OUTLETS, I NEED OUTLETS. Some sweaty bald guy even walked by my new office (rocking chair on porch of lodge with complementary wifi) and told me I was a girl after his own heart, brazen enough to sit here with my laptop amidst the mountains. "I'm a nerd too," he said. Oh no sir, I'm not a nerd, I just have my head stuck up my ass.
Breakdowns in Yosemite are common because what better time? We were towed by a man named Joshua who has worked in the park since 1994 and "no longer appreciates the scenery as much as he should." I spent the better part of the afternoon asking all of the mechanics to tell me their on-the-job horror stories, something I also subject most cab drivers to. Joshua told me that in the winter, cars drive off the roads here sometimes three times a day. He's "used to seeing dead bodies by now." He told me sometimes people drive off the cliffs on purpose and that last month a rabbi drove out to his death at 140mph after he was caught cheating on his wife. "There was a long letter written and everything," he said.
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