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September 22, 2006
Alaskan in Exile
by Neil Zawicki

    A half-crazy possible junkie offered to sell his bicycle for a cigarette last Tuesday.

    “Anybody got a smoke?” I said to my two friends.

    No smokes. So I offered to buy him a pack of smokes for his bike – a perfectly good Raleigh road model.

    “It’s not hot and I have a bill of sale,” he said, producing a U.S. military I.D. card from the Navy, circa 1972.

    I decided in the end not to take the bike. After all, it probably was hot, or at least belonged to his roommate or somebody else he was angry with. And anyway, I had to be across the bridge in ten minutes to take pictures at the Governor of Washington’s outdoor reception dinner and booze-fueled schmooze fest prior to her Workforce and Economic Development conference, so I bid the nut goodbye and left him with his bike.

    When I got to the event, I hopped a little hedge and began milling through the crowd, snapping photos and sampling salmon dishes as a combo jazz band played for all the heavies in economics and labor throughout the state. I ended up near the temporary fence, amid a trio of highly decorated fashion junkies with expensive hair and colorful mixed drinks. No doubt from Everett. Just outside the fence, a dirt-crusted, trucker’s wallet wearing street kid with dreadlocks and a big black dog asked, “Hey, what’s going on over there?”

    The fashion junkies answered him with a head-cocked, haughty tone:

    “It’s the Governor’s Conference?”

    The question mark was included for insult.

    “You should hop the fence and get some food,” I offered, and the women looked at me like I was made out of earthworms. I took their picture.

    Later, I shared a beer with an older guy wearing a red western sport coat and an American Flag tie. Probably from Tacoma. He wanted to talk about illegals in the workforce.

    “Wal-Mart kidnaps people and makes them work,” he said, eyeing passing skirts like a clothing designer. “They lock people in their stores at night when they’re not working. That is kidnapping.”

    I bought him another Pilsner and took his picture.

    “But don’t you think that maybe those people are happy to be locked in the store where it’s safe?” I asked him. “I mean, if they’re illegal, then that’s a pretty good deal, I would imagine.”

    The red jacketed man grinned beneath his mustache.

    “It’s kidnapping,” he said. “Lawyers said so.”

    We decided quickly that we both agreed that Wal-Mart takes advantage of the illegal workers, and that the retailer does little good to the economy, but we could not come to terms on the kidnapping question.

    “Forget about going after the thousands of immigrant workers, go after the employers,” he said, reaching into his jacket pocket while placing his empty bottle distractedly on the bar.

    “I agree, pay people what their worth.”

    “Unless they’re illegal,” he replied.

    “Legal or not. Both sides are taking advantage of the law in this case.”

    “And one of them is kidnapping.”

    The fashion junkies reappeared, and rolled their eyes when they saw me. My new friend bought them drinks, and they acted like aloof kittens when he did it.

    “Do you ladies think Wal-Mart kidnaps?” he asked them.

    “Excuse me?”

    “They kidnap migrant workers and won’t let them leave.”

    One of the women tossed her hair aside and plucked the corner of her mouth with her finger.

    “I totally read that somewhere too,” she said.
   
    I decided then that my work there was done, that I had taken my pictures and that my editor would be happy. I left the event, leaving workforce debate to the professionals. On the way home, I swung by the parking lot where I’d almost bought the bike for a pack of smokes. He has gone.

    Oh well. Here’s to commerce.




   
















      Neil Zawicki, exiled Alaskan, is Editor at Large for Insurgent49, a former reporter for the Alaska Star, and winner of the Alaska Press Club's 'Best Columnist' award. He is now living out the rest of his days in an undisclosed location in Oregon. He can be contacted athondo23@gmail.com

- Columnists -

Editor's Desk
by Aaron Selbig

Rank and File
by Nova Stubbs

Red Alert
by Soren Wuerth



Alaskan In Exile
by Neil Zawicki

The
Bramble Bush
by Kevin Morford







- column archive -

September 15, 2006

September 8, 2006

September 1, 2006

August 25, 2006

August 18, 2006

August 11, 2006

August 4, 2006

July 28, 2006

July 21, 2006

July 14, 2006

June 30, 2006

June 23, 2006

June 16, 2006

June 9, 2006

June 2, 2006

May 26, 2006

May 12, 2006

May 5, 2006

April 28, 2006

April 21, 2006

April 14, 2006

April 7, 2006

March 31, 2006

March 24, 2006

March 17, 2005

March 3, 2006

February 24, 2006

February 17, 2006

February 10, 2006

February 3, 2006

January 27, 2006

January 20, 2006

January 13, 2006

January 6, 2006

December 30, 2005

December 23, 2005

December 16, 2005

December 10, 2005

December 2, 2005

November 25, 2005

November 18, 2005

November 11, 2005

November 4, 2005

October 28, 2005

October 21, 2005

October 14, 2005

October 7, 2005

September 30, 2005

September 23, 2005

September 16, 2005

September 9, 2005

September 2, 2005

August 26, 2005

August 19, 2005

August 12, 2005

August 5, 2005

July 29, 2005

July 22, 2005

July 15, 2005

July 8, 2005

July 1, 2005

June 24, 2005

June 17, 2005

June 10, 2005

June 3, 2005

May 27, 2005

May 20, 2005

May 13, 2005

May 6, 2005

April 29, 2005

April 21, 2005

April 14, 2005

April 7, 2005

April 1, 2005



- also by this writer -



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in-sur-gent (in sur'jent), n. 1. a member of a group which revolts against the policies of its leadership.