The Human Animal

With all of the advancements that mankind has made since the beginning of time we seem to have forgotten one base fact; we are animals.
Can the human animal be trusted?
The church bells chime in tune while people dance in the streets singing 'fuck no, you cannot trust a human'.
Could Hitler be trusted? Can the Liberal Government be trusted?
But what about those with whom we share a loving bond. Can we trust our parents? Our friends? Our lovers (*swallowing hard* I just upchucked a little at my use of the term lover, but it is the perfect seque into the story I want to share with you.)
February 26th I ventured out on a hike with my boyfriend and our friend Devin.
We decided to hike the well traveled path of Johnson Canyon just outside of Banff Alberta.
There was a slight overcast to the day but it did nothing to diminish the spirits of the three excited trail blazers.
We fueled up with eggs benedict on potato pancakes and orange juice and then hopped in the jeep and headed for the Alberta Rockies.
I was excited, and oblivious to the perils that lay ahead of me.
We arrived at the site of our walk and I jumped out of the car, donned my touque and mittens and headed for the mouth of the path.
We stopped along the way, reading the information boards that enlightened us to who had been there before.
The scenery was stunning.
Hmmm, that's weird. I just used the word stunning and my computer seems to have automatically posted this picture of me on a different hike. I'm not sure why this happened. I mean, you can't even see the scenery, and this isn't the same hike. How weird. I should try a few more descriptive terms and see what happens. How about....Dapper. Pulchritudinous. Virile. Becoming. Adonis.
Strange, no more pictures pop up. I'm flattered all the same. I guess I should just drop a quick thank you to my parents for their years of rearing which provided me with exceptional grooming and hygiene. I should also thank blind luck for the making me the man you see here. And I'll go out on a limb here and thank 'God' he didn't make me fugly.
Oh. Oh, my god. I umm, I used the word fugly and, shit, anyway. So the sun was trying to make it out from behind the clouds and it was occasionally successful, but we didn't need it for the day to seem so perfect. The walk was a rigorous uphill climb but the fresh mountain air that filled my lungs as I gasped for air reminded me that exercise is good for you. The three of us pushed on. Johnson Canyon is a hike through rock on either side where the water has cut away a path for us to enjoy through the very skin of the earth. It was so beautiful I can't put it into words. No, wait, I can. Bewitching. Radiant. Splendid. Ravishing. Enticing.
The photo-opportunities began to present themselves.
This is John and I sitting in front of the lower falls. Off to our left was a small opening in the cliff face that you could crawl through to a ledge that over looked the pool of water at the bottom of the smaller falls. It was frozen solid, but I got the idea. Regardless. The element I want you to take away from this photograph is the docile look in John's eyes. Like a Doe who just finished grazing in a field of sweet grass. Innocent. Unsullied. Trusting and worthy of trust.
I trusted him, unabridged.
The hike ensues.
We make it up the exhaustive path to the upper falls where some crazy bastard was climbing the frozen falls with no safety ropes to protect him from a fall. It was there that the air changed. The happy-go-lucky aire of the day was replaced with thick suspicion that I had gotten myself into something I couldn't handle. I tried to pass it off as paranoia but the gnawing feeling in my guts kept trying to get me to believe that I was somewhere I shouldn't be.
I loosely pondered the idea of fight or flight, yet I couldn't understand why I kept mulling it over in my mind.
"Ian, get a hold of yourself, there's nothing wrong here. You're hiking, you're safe."
I tried to convince myself but somewhere in my head the words met with contention.
"He's going to get you".
It was like the small devil on my left shoulder was trying to warn me of something, but the angel on the opposite shoulder wasn't there to tell me that everything would be okay. I felt sick, challenged, fearful.
There was no logic, just intuition.
Then, it happened. My greatest fears materialized in milliseconds.
John snapped.
I saw something coming at me, and I turned. In a flash I saw his face contorted into a twisted version of what I knew and loved. It had become animalistic. Ferocious. Pure mania.
I couldn't react to the attack, there wasn't time.
He was on me.
I tried to scream, but when I opened my mouth it was instantly filled with soft snow and hard ice. It blocked my throat and stifled my cries.
My life began flashing before my eyes. There's mom with a bowl of green grapes under the sicamore tree. There's me graduating high school. As I watched my past play like an 8mm film behind my eyelids I knew I had to fight. I had to do whatever it would take to survive. But how could I hurt this man?
Afterall, I loved him. And he loved me.

No....I would not subject myself to this.
I am man, hear me fucking roar.
I punched and I kicked and I screamed and I yelped and I even made a little fart in my snowpants from exerting so much effort. The will to survive is a powerful thing.
I threw him off of me.
The shock at my own strength was only eclipsed by the rage that I saw on John's face as he landed in a snowbank a good 15 feet from me. I knew it was not over so I got to my feet, and I readied myself for his next attack.
I didn't have to wait long.
This time I was ready.
He came at me with the force of a bulldozer and I flipped him with the ease of a pancake.
I would not be taken down.
The fight seemed to last for hours. At the end I was spent. Exhausted. But victorious.
I may show some battle scars in the picture of me at the end of my horrific ordeal, but I came out on top.
As Jeff Probst has been telling me for upwards of 10 seasons. OUTWIT. OUTPLAY. OUTLAST.
Can the human animal be trusted?
Look into my eyes.
Does that look the the face of a man who hasn't learned his lesson?