Honestly I don’t know what to think of Fairbanks. It has some amazing spaces and yet it always seems a little sad, a little dated, and a little down on its luck. It is an enigma.
Our hotel, the Westmark Fairbanks has clean and bright public spaces. We head to the park because our room isn’t ready even though we receive a room key. While we spend an entire afternoon playing in the mild Alaskan sunshine, our friends check into their room and have a lengthy nap before we get back. They text us to tell us how refreshed they are. So we are very surprised when our room still isn’t ready five hours later and we have to stand in the hall for another half hour while it is hastily finished.
As a rule, I don’t publically comply about service because anyone can have a bad day. But in this instance, I will make an exception. On the way to our room, an army of hotel staff with cleaning supplies in hand crowds into the elevator with us. It is not that I mind sharing the elevator with staff. I do mind them shoving the guests aside without an acknowledgment and then having a mop handle knocked into my face without a care.
Once in our room (keep in mind it took over five hours from the time I was handed a key upon arrival for the room to be ready), I notice the room is filthy. The bath room toilet leaks and is still running water from the seal onto the tile. The shower curtain has holes in it and the tub is permanently stained (I won’t be using it). The dressers are dusty and the handles are sticky (I won’t be touching them.) The wall has patches. When I walk to the window, my shoes stick to the carpet. I don’t know what is in the carpet, but thank God I have my shoes on. I look out the window trying to center myself by looking at the sky. That is when I notice that someone has strapped a box fan to the outside exhaust. I think the maintenance department might need a little training….
The room clearly isn’t a refuge, so we decided to head out until bedtime. Thankfully, we only plan to spend one night and the sheets are clean. We should be able to find things to keep us busy and outside the room. A short walk brings us to a busy Thai restaurant. The food is delicious and brightens my mood.
We aren’t far from downtown and decide to take a walk along the Chena River. The path is paved and there are flowers and statues along the way. It is beautiful. Looking forward to a peaceful walk, I am not prepared for the disheveled crowd that lounges in every corner of the park. Every city has its share of street people. Fairbanks is no exception. Large numbers of people aimlessly lounge and roam the public areas. They are not threatening just unkempt.
I understand that I am privileged by the world’s standards and am always moved to try and help where I can. I was thinking how Fairbanks is dealing with the issue of poverty and housing, when a woman on the river bank starts pointing at me. She keeps shouting that she is going to “beat my ass.” She is clearly disturbed so I pretend I don’t hear her and walk on. Other people come from the park, calm her down. Just another day in an American city pondering mental illness, drug use, poverty, the plight of indigenous peoples, and housing affordability. So much for vacation vibes.
The park and the nearby church grounds are beautiful, but it is hard to sit here. There is clearly a local community to which we don’t belong. So we walk a block to a small strip mall. It is closing within the hour and has no air conditioning. We take photos with the stuffed wildlife and ogle vastly overpriced thrift store finds. Between the heat and the smell of old clothing, we are ready to leave long before the shops close.
Just as I am ready to give up and head back to the hotel, we notice the Fairbanks Community band setting up for a free concert in the park. The same park where just a half hour before the local characters congregated and chased away visitors is now the site of a community event.
We love live music so we stay. For about two hours, we enjoy jazz standards under a summer sky. The band member’s family and friends make up most of the sparse crowd. And one by one, the cast of characters emerge from every corner of the park. The lady who wanted to beat me up smiles and begins to dance. The guy who is clearly strung out stands and nods his head to the beat. The guy who carries his possessions on a bicycle performs a bicycle ballet, turning slow circles to the music. Skateboarders roll slowly past. Guy with the giant stick does a disjointed rendition of tai chi. The band plays on as if this quirky and strange dynamic is entirely normal. Perhaps it is.
It is a fair city indeed that can embrace its citizens and treat them all with dignity and respect regardless of circumstance . I will never know what brought the people to the park this night. But for a brief moment in time, music made everything right.
