Monday, July 2, 2012

Ever since taking over the reins as the General Manager of the Kalamazoo Badgers, Jim Doucette has been haunted by sleepless nights and vivid dreams clearly related to the stress of his new position.  One dream in particular stuck with the General Manager…

Jim opens his eyes and finds himself lying in a field of tall bamboo trees.  He has no recollection of how he got there, and he feels no pain.  The air is humid and difficult to swallow; he can almost taste the moisture surrounding him.  The ground is wet, as are the leaves on the trees around him.  For a while, Jim just lies on his back and looks as the sun struggles to make an appearance through the jungle canopy above him.

Eventually, Jim climbs to his feet.  He calls out, but no one answers.  He looks down to find himself wearing something similar to Indiana Jones.  He thinks to himself, “If I fall into a pit of snakes…”  He begins to push his way through the undergrowth of the jungle.  The thick vines, spiky plants and slippery rocks make the task much more difficult than the nature walks he used to take through the Blue Hills hiking trails when he was growing up in Boston, Massachusetts.  Strangely enough, he hears no sign of how he got here, and no sign of additional life.  The jungle lies silent.  No birds chirping, no rustling leaves… the jungle is completely still.

As the hike gets tougher and tougher, Jim comes across a backpack in a small puddle.  Across the front is a blocky stamp that reads, “KALAMAZOO”.  Kalamazoo… Jim feels a connection to the stamp but cannot place where it comes from.  His family rarely traveled outside of Boston, but nostalgic visions of Lake Michigan were hard to fight away.  After snapping himself back to reality, Jim pulls the drawstrings on the bag to see if there is anything useful inside.

The Machete

The first tool Jim pulls out of the bag is probably the most useful when stranded alone in a thick jungle; a machete.  The Spanish-named blade would be extremely useful in cutting back the thick jungle as he pushed his way forward.  The blade could also be used as a weapon in case any of the natural wildlife decided to make a surprise cameo.

Jim examined the blade to determine its utility.  Across the face of the blade was inscribed: “Raúl García… 5-6 weeks”.  Confused, Jim flipped the machete over and saw that the handle was broken.  Though the blade was in perfect condition, the most useful tool was rendered useless.  Jim’s heart, sank and he reached into the “KALAMAZOO” bag to see what else was in there.

The Canteen

The next object Jim pulled out of the bag was a heavy aluminum canteen.  Judging by the weight of it, the canteen was full!  Thirsty and eager for water, Jim struggled to quickly undo the cover and brought the canteen to his mouth.  However, as he expected cool, refreshing water to pour onto his lips, Jim nearly jumped out of his skin when dry, grainy sand hit his face instead.  He was getting angry, and he pulled the canteen away from his mouth to have a better look.  It, too, had an inscription: “John Collins… 844 games played”.  The canteen would be crucial to his survival in the short term, but there was literally nothing left in the tank…

“In case of emergency…”

Jim reached to the bottom of the bag and grabbed one last thing.  It was definitely the largest object in the bag, and he struggled with it as he pulled it out.  It was a giant ornate box.  Jim got the feeling that whatever was in the box was crucial to him getting out of the jungle alive and well.

He looked for an inscription on the box and found the faded words: “In case of emergency… communication devices”.  Jim’s heart jumped, and he reached for the latch on the front of the chest.  He was not surprised when he found a giant padlock preventing him from obtaining what was in the box.  Across the front of the lock read this inscription: “Sixto Rodríguez… $10.6… .203”.  There was nothing he could do.  The treasure that awaited him inside the chest was locked behind an immovable object.

Suddenly, the jungle was no longer tranquil.  Jim looked down to see himself sitting in a pool of quicksand.  He could hear growling and rattling in the distance, and the trees rustled with a strong wind.  Chaos ensued as Jim struggled to pull himself from the mouth of the jungle.  With a broken machete, an empty canteen and a locked chest, he had nothing to help him out.  As the sand reached to his chin, a small boy appeared from the surrounding trees.  He was wearing a green baseball cap and a matching green windbreaker.  He watched as Jim sank deeper… and deeper… and deeper…