Land of the Radioactive Midnight Sun
A Cheechako's First Year in Alaska
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- $11.99
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- $11.99
Publisher Description
From moose attacks to the midnight sun--an amusing, Bill Bryson-like account of one man's first year in Alaska
"In New York City, a Cheechako (chee CHA-ko) would be the kid who just fell off the turnip truck. No street smarts. A pink windbreaker. A subway map sticking from his back pocket...In Alaska, a Cheechako is even easier to spot. He's the guy with his tongue stuck to a metal pole. A tenderfoot. A greenhorn."
Land of the Radioactive Midnight Sun is the story of Lt. Sean Michael Flynn as he tries to survive his first year in Alaska. With romantic notions of Jack London and Bush piloting, Lt. Flynn requests a transfer to Eielson Air Force Base outside of Fairbanks, Alaska. He is a bit unnerved at how easy the transfer goes through.
From a rugby game on a frozen river to living across from Santa's Village to soaring over the Bush in an F-16, Land of the Radioactive Midnight Sun is a hilarious trial-by-many-errors account of what it takes to become a true Alaskan.
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
For one year in the late 1990s, Flynn was posted to Eileson Air Force Base near Fairbanks, Alaska, as a public affairs officer, one of the "desk weenies" assigned to put a good face on unpopular military activities, like environmentally hazardous combat flying exercises and radioactivity-fueled facilities on native lands. His personal goal was to transform himself from "cheechako," or greenhorn Lower 48-er, into a "real Alaskan." While he approached his duties spinning bad news for the military with seasoned skepticism noting his lies in parentheses for the reader the challenge of becoming a real Alaskan seemed to involve his manhood and was therefore more serious. Commenting on underdressed (for the weather) rugby players, he concludes, "they're all just afraid of being called a wimp. Any guy can appreciate that." He treats readers to several bloody and drunken rugby matches in 30-below weather, plus some attempts at dogsledding, salmon and halibut fishing, moose eating and gold panning. Flynn liberally seasons this virile menu with complaints about the difficult guy/gal ratio and more than a little finger-pointing at the gals who look like guys. Ultimately, Flynn decides being a real Alaskan is less about endurance and more about attitude (e.g., if you're freezing, go get a jacket or stop sitting in the snow). In the last pages, Flynn, like many of his "real Alaskan" friends, leaves Alaska for more urban settings after all, as Flynn puts it, Manhattan's so much better at "pizza and women."
