Читать книгу Canoeing with Jose онлайн

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“That’s some shit,” José replied. “People in Grand Forks is stupid if they built their shit on a lake, then act all surprised when they get wet.”

Noah nodded, then took out his digital recorder and sat down at our picnic table with José and me. Wary of the long arm of the law, José agreed to be interviewed only if Noah would call him Joe. It was a policy we maintained as we approached the border, where traveling as José would only increase the likelihood of trouble.

Noah later mailed me a CD of the conversation, and I was struck by how, with the recorder switched on, José mutated into “Joe,” a reticent silhouette of his former self.

“This is Noah and I’m here on the banks of the Red River in Fargo, North Dakota, with Jon Lurie and Joe Perez, who are camping for the night before continuing their journey northward. These two gentlemen are paddling from the border between South and North Dakota to the Hudson Bay.”

“Joe, how did you get involved in this trip?”

“Well, my friend here, Jon Lurie, just suggested it one day. When he asked what I was doing this summer, I had no idea. So he just laid it all out for me, and I agreed.”