Alaska: Seeing through the cracks

My worst day as a Tour Director.

Note : Names are changed for privacy

The James family drew my attention as I made my rounds on the train - a quiet, somewhat tense foursome with two teenage boys. As I introduced myself to Chad, Mary, Paul, and Dale, I could not have predicted what would unfold over the coming days.

Chad was tall and built like a football player. He had a loud voice and an opinion on everything. Mary had shoulder-length, mousey brown hair that framed her face, emphasizing her rosy cheeks. She was quiet, her eyes often downcast, but when she did look up, she flashed me a warm, if fleeting, smile that hinted at a kind spirit beneath the reserved exterior.

Paul and Dale were unmistakably brothers, sharing the same soft facial features, fair coloring, and bright, inquisitive eyes. Paul, the taller of the two, had a thin, gangly frame, while Dale's extra pounds gave him a pudgy, youthful look. They moved with the slightly awkward, self-conscious air of teenagers. They looked sullen, teenagers do not like getting up in the morning either. When I noticed Dale practicing a magic trick with cards, I saw an opportunity to connect.

Recognizing the trick, I encouraged Dale to perform it for me. I commended his skill and shared that I used to practice magic relentlessly myself. To demonstrate, I showed him my card flipping trick with two jokers.

I could do the whole trick without looking. Dale was impressed and pressed me to do it again. I repeated it a couple of times and then once more, this time slowing my movements and highlighting the trick. Chad looked on, puzzled and dismissive.

After we arrived, I was working in the lobby of the lodge to answer any guest questions when Mary approached me. She asked if it was normal for their room to have two queen beds. I explained that the hotel had allocated rooms and they had probably tried to place them near their boys. I asked if the room was ok, she backed away looking worried.

At dinner, I saw the family as they arrived.

"Can I speak to you outside," said Chad.

Immediately, Mary's face fell, looking like she wished to disappear. Her eyes, a striking blue-green, flashed with an emotion, that almost looked like fear. She quickly tried to compose herself, but her hands trembled slightly as she smoothed her hair.

"Certainly." I said. We made our way out of the dining queue to the main lobby.

"You put me in a substandard room in a terrible building," Chad said, his voice wavering with fury. "You lied. You said it was a good building. It looks like a Motel 6, not a grand lodge. I want to stay in the wilderness lodge next door."

"Which building is that?" I asked.

"The one that has the beams out front."

I explained that their building was actually the newest and nicest in the hotel. I was confused by the place next door; eventually, I realized it was the other restaurant building.

Chad's voice grew louder, and I could see his face turning red as he stepped closer to me, invading my personal space. I felt a mix of apprehension and frustration rising within me as I tried to maintain my composure.

"You are just pissing down my back," Chad shouted, his face reddening. "All you want to do is SELL! SELL! SELL! You don't care about anything."

I tried to assure him I was there to help and would do everything possible to make things go smoothly.

"We want a room with a king bed," Chad demanded. "That's what I was told I'd have."

I said I would investigate immediately and let him know while he was at dinner. They left heading for the dining room.

I was trembling. I looked over at the front desk. Rebecca from the front desk approached and enveloped me in a hug. I had not realized how much I needed that comfort.

The hotel could not find an available king room to move him to that night as they were sold out. The hotel front desk gave him a gift certificate to spend on the property. 

The next day was a day of leisure. Mr. James was more pleasant and mentioned they had been exhausted. I always give people a lot of slack, particularly at the start of a tour; they are tired, the process is new, and they don’t know me. He had been out of line, but I let it go.

I contacted the Denali and Fairbanks properties to ensure the James family would have rooms with king beds and their sons would be nearby.

The next day, as we boarded the coach to Denali, Dale approached me and showed me my card-flipping trick, grinning. "I've been practicing," he said.

We had a beautiful drive up through Broad Pass surrounded by the Alaska Range of mountains. The glacially-carved, U-shaped valley showcased the spectacular landscape. We stopped to take pictures of Denali. The towering mountain was showing in all its glory.

When we arrived at the Denali Lodge, I waited around to ensure that everyone got into their rooms okay. The group was in the new buildings, nice rooms. As I stood on the patio with the Nenana River rushing below, its gray, milky color shining in the full daylight, I saw Chad approach.

"Is everything okay? " Clearly everything was not okay.

He was incensed. "If you help any more, I will be sleeping across the street," he said.

"I knew you wouldn't look after us properly," Chad accused, his voice rising. "You suck at your job, and I plan to complain about you and the service we've received."

He was shouting. Spittle flew.

"There is a crack in the wall of the room. Look, look." He offered his phone as proof.

"You need to come with me," Chad insisted, "and see this crack."

"Certainly." I followed him upstairs to their room. There was indeed a crack in the wall. The building was settling; this was common in Alaska with so much permafrost everywhere.

Chad's face reddened as he loomed over me, his voice rising with every word. "You put me in a substandard building. The elevator isn't working. I can't walk up stairs; I have plantar fasciitis."

I tried to maintain my composure, but my mind raced. Plantar fasciitis? He had never mentioned any mobility issues before. He had just walked up the stairs. With me. I glanced at Mary, who seemed to shrink into herself on the deck, and at the boys watching wide-eyed.

"This is how you deal with people like him," Chad directed at the boys.

My heart sank as I realized this was not just about the room. I felt he was showing them how he dealt with the help.

Eventually, they moved downstairs to a different room. Throughout the trip, I found myself constantly dealing with issues involving the James' rooms and luggage, each problem adding to the growing tension I felt.

The following day, on the last day touring Fairbanks, Chad suddenly barged his way to the front of the coach. My heart pounded in my chest as I stood frozen, my hands gripping the microphone. As I searched Chad's face for a sign of his intentions, a knot formed in my stomach. What would he do?

"I just want to say a few words," Chad announced, grabbing the microphone. "I think I speak for everyone when I say that Michael has been fantastic this week. Hurrah for Michael!"

I felt a rush of relief and gratitude wash over me, mixed with a lingering sense of unease.

As Chad handed the microphone back to me, I caught Paul and Dale exchanging a look of surprise tinged with what seemed like relief.

That evening we had a gala wine dinner to end the tour. I always arrive at least a half hour early to check the room and table setups. I made sure to have a table where the family could all sit together.

Just as I finished, Mary approached me.

"We can't come to dinner."

"Is everything okay? I can arrange dinner in the bar or restaurant if you'd prefer," I offered.

"The restaurant would work but no wine; I can't drink alcohol," she clarified.

I cocked my head quizzically then nodded. "Understood. Let's get you a table downstairs."

As we descended the stairs, I saw Chad, Paul, and Dale in the lobby. Chad looked over at Mary and a look passed between them, her head lowered in submission. We all headed as a group to the restaurant. I caught the maître d's eye. "They're with the tour," I explained, keeping my voice low, "but they'd prefer to dine in the restaurant tonight, sans wine." The maître d nodded discreetly, and I saw to it that they were comfortably seated.

With a parting smile, I slipped back upstairs. I found myself pushing food around my plate, my appetite gone.

As I sat at the gala dinner, downing perhaps one too many glasses of wine, my mind kept drifting to the family in the restaurant below. Mary's quiet admission about not drinking alcohol nagged at me. I realized Chad had directed Mary to inform me about the change of dinner plans and her issue with alcohol.

I retired to my room that night with a heavy heart, the James' situation weighing on my mind. As their shuttle disappeared down the road to the airport the following day, a wave of relief washed over me.

After every tour in Alaska, we debrief with a supervisor, often well-meaning newcomers who do not really grasp the situation. This year in Fairbanks, we had the lovely Carla. With the air of an aging hippie and an old soul, she was someone you could talk to about life.

After a few wrong turns in the hotel's basement hallways, I finally found Carla's office tucked away in a corner, a windowless room with a desk and a printer.

In the debrief with Carla, I found myself pouring out all the details of the trip, the words tumbling out of me like a dam had burst. As she listened intently, her brow furrowed, and when she finally spoke, her words hit me like a thunderbolt: "It sounds like abuse to me."

Suddenly, all the pieces fell into place - Mary's timid demeanor, the boys' erratic behavior, Chad's explosive anger. How had I not seen it before? The realization washed over me, a nauseating wave of understanding.

I was shook. I cried, tears streaming down my face. The salty tears stained my shirt as I tried to cover my face.

Talking to Carla was therapeutic, but the situation had taken a heavy emotional toll. I was not sure I could run my next tour starting in 24 hours.

I retreated to my room and cried some more and was glad of the privacy as I reviewed every interaction for the last week. I did manage to pull myself together, but it was the toughest day I have had on tour. 

With hindsight, I should have seen the signs in the strained family dynamics. In the whirlwind of trying to manage the constant crises and complaints, I hadn’t put the pieces together. I was in survival mode, and by the end of the week, I was clinging to sanity by my fingernails.

This experience was a turning point for me. No longer could I see my job as simply managing logistics and keeping customers happy on a superficial level. Going forward, I committed myself to be more present and more compassionate in my outlook, knowing that everyone carries their own unique story and struggles. It is a responsibility I hold sacred to this day.