John Taylor

People are bizarre.

Today, this man walks by me and says, "Bye, John Taylor!"  He obviously misread my name tag; I looked at him and said, "You mean Jacob Taylor."  Then he says, "Oh... well, your name should be John Taylor.  John is a better name than Jacob."  Really? Thanks.

I have also decided to deem this week, "Poor White Trash Week."  The highlights?  One family, covered from head to toe in tattoos, scratching their bodies and shaking (crystal meth??) radiated a refined sophistication...  Another woman had piercings that went all the way around her mouth. So classy.

On my ranger walk yesterday, as I was talking about the sculptor of Mt. Rushmore, this snake slithers by my feet... people can scream SO loudly!! Ah, the life of a park ranger!

Just before I swear in the Junior Rangers and give them their badges, I often quiz them about the presidents on the mountain.  Today, I asked one kid, "George Washington fought in what war?"  His mom interrupts and says to her son, "You know this one... your great-grandfather fought in it... World War I!!!"  Really?  GW fought in WWI?  Dumb.

In other news, in the past three days, I've been told by visitors that I reminded them of Orlando Bloom, Josh Groban, and Dane Cook, which only means one thing: I desperately need a haircut.

Jacob