Only in Alaska

This past weekend, I got to be an Alaskan. Again. This time, for three days, not three years. However, I think I packed more Alaskan into my three days than I could have ever hoped to do in my three years. To help commemorate my experience with the Fur Rendezvous Festival, I've compose a short poem:


Ode to Alaska

Only in Alaska can you dress up like a star,
and be accepted, nay, celebrated,
with free drinks at F Street bar.


Only in Alaska, can you see the ferris wheel,
drawing crowds in zero degree weather,
and still think, "what's the big deal?"

Only in Alaska can you see Rocky's brother,
enjoying a glass of chardonnay wine,
as much as, say, your mother.

Only in Alaska, can my friends get big brown drunk,
and dance around in his lava lava,
to the beat of the white man funk.


Only in Alaska can you see greg, whit, et al,
dress up, get drunk, win a plaque and dance,
at the miner's and trapper's ball.


You better believe it bitches. Next year I'm writing a song, so you better start thinking of some damn good inspirational moments.

Though truly, I don't think it can get any better than Frank Stallone and chardonnay.