WHAT IF AN ALLIGATOR

What If an Alligator

34°03’42.4”N 84°10’55.9”W - Johns Creek, Georgia

Your stretch of Findley Road begins at the electrical box falsely labeled “FINLEY RD” and ends at a wall of four-lane traffic. Your stretch of Findley Road is a two-lane tributary feeding into Sargent Road with its traffic lights and traffic circles. As you pass Findley Oaks Elementary and come over the hill lined on either side by a subdivision and three stand-alone houses, your stretch of Findley Road offers a tree-canopied entrance, welcoming you into a safer place [+$750,000 for feeling safe]. Even if you miss this entrance, you’ll know you’re there by the carpet of pine needles, the sudden lack of sunlight, and the occasional bird calls you don’t hear anywhere else around here [+$250,000 for imagining two birds searching for each other amid these trees].

You might feel a spider web clinging to your legs [-$2,500 for the uncomfortable sensation], or—if you’re unlucky—get the web right in your mouth] [-$7,500 for finding it impossible to expel the uncomfortable sensation from your mouth. But you should keep walking or jogging, careful not to slip on the pine needles and paying no mind to the spider webs. The ghostly drop in temperature that comes with the dim lighting is unnerving at first, but you soon embrace the chilled air, remembering that this feeling of being unguarded is the whole point.

The three-way stop up ahead is where you pass other pedestrians [-$30,000 for being reminded this place isn’t all your own]. But sometimes these pedestrians are accompanied by their dogs [+$400,000 for dogs—what more needs to be said?]. You resist turning to look through the windows of the cars that pull up beside you. The hope is that you can trick yourself into forgetting that there are cars and other people you have to share this space with.

A yard sign for a cross-country meet at Northview High School—whose sports teams are nicknamed the Titans—is planted by the sidewalk. You see this sign and for some reason think of the movie Remember the Titans. You’ve never seen the movie, but, nonetheless, you picture Denzel Washington and try your best to remember those Titans, whoever they are [+$70,000 for random memory associations that pop into your mind].

Findley Road then begins to bend to the right, obscuring whatever lies around the corner. Approaching this curve, you realize that there lies a marshy clearing through the thin layer of trees straight ahead. You’re able to make out floating pieces of driftwood, and you wonder how deep the water extends below the murky surface. Sometimes it smells like swamp [-$1,000 for swamp smells], but most of the time you don’t mind because wow, it’s just so darn cool that there’s a swamp out here and why don’t people talk about it more [+$50,000 for the far-fetched idea that an alligator could live there]?

What lies around the corner turns out to be a humble overlook of the humble Johns Creek— your hometown’s non-apostrophed namesake. When it rains, the water flows with volume and speed. Otherwise, it’s stagnant and concerningly shallow. You can stop to lean over the fence and peer into the creek if you’re in one of your moods, or you can walk by and enjoy a quick glimpse if you’re not [+$350,000 for a place to brood when you’d like to].

Eventually you see the winding street leading to the hospital’s back entrance on the opposite side of the road. You might spot a deer among the trees on that side, and if you do, you find it hard not to stop and watch, in awe of being so near a wild soul [+$175,000 for the calmness that watching deer brings you]. The cars whooshing by make you worry about the dangers conspiring against the deer. You have to force yourself to keep walking, but you crane your neck back to watch for as long as you can.

After convincing yourself that the deer will probably—hopefully—be fine and returning to your Findley Road headspace, you notice the change that’s come over you. Your mind feels clearer, your breath easier. You might think, wow, what’s better than this? But just as you do, your calves start to burn, and you find yourself leaning forward to propel yourself onward and upward. The sidewalk has suddenly risen to a twenty-degree incline. You gently encourage and then plead with your quadriceps to keep going [-$10,000 for the ache in your calves and quads]. Returning to the physical world might— actually, will—feel jarring.

At the top of the hill, you relax and notice brilliantly pink flowers growing off to the side. Then you realize they lined the sidewalk the whole way up [+$120,000 for the beauty of the flowers]. You shake your head and chuckle, marveling at the endless gifts this little stretch of road keeps giving, gifts that you hope it will keep giving forever.

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34°03’43.8”N 84°10’39.8”W - Johns Creek, Georgia

Somewhere after the Johns Creek overlook and the hospital back entrance but before the hill with pink flowers, the sign reads “Luxury Homes for 700k.” For years you’ve seen this sign and scoffed, thinking if they hadn’t built those 700k houses yet, it was doubtful they ever would. But the sign advertising the 700k houses still stands. And those houses that once remained confined to your imagination are now on the brink of reality.

In a stretch of what was once forest, the luxury home builders have shaped the earth into the ideal form for human habitation: a barren plot of flattened, muddy ground. The sight of this unnatural clearing stuns you; they’ve carved a hole into the tree canopy, an alien window to the sky. Light pours into the woods, breaching the sanctity of your stretch of Findley Road. All for three luxury homes.

Now, every time you walk here, your reprieve from the outside world is interrupted by this bleak image of bulldozers and felled trees. You realize that one day when you leave this town, this state, you’ll still think about what’s become of your stretch of Findley Road. You’ll ask your family if the construction has been completed. You’ll check Google Maps and see the gray triangular intrusion into what was once green.

Current You is frightened for Future You. Standing here now, you realize Future You will never be able to return to the past version— your version—of this place. And worse, Future You will one day be unable to remember that version. Before Current You can do anything rash, you see a sign detailing the punishment for trespassing on the construction site. Your head droops, and you slump away, dejected. You struggle to find the motivation to conquer the pink-flowered hill. You almost have to drop to your knees and crawl. What will happen to the deer? What about the birds? And the pink flowers?

LUXURY HOME 7000000.00x3

TOTAL 2100000.00

FEELING SAFE 750000.00

BIRD CALLS 250000.00

SPIDER WEB ON LEG -2500.00

SPIDER WEB IN MOUTH -7500.00

SHARING WITH OTHERS -30000.00

DOGS 400000.00

RANDOM MEMORY ASSOCIATIONS 70000.00

SWAMP SMELLS -1000.00

WHAT IF AN ALLIGATOR 50000.00

SPACE TO BROOD 350000.00

DEER 175000.00

ACHE IN CALVES AND QUADS -10000.00

PRETTY FLOWERS 120000.00

TOTAL 2114000.00

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You’re doing the math, but more like fudging the numbers, constantly going back and adjusting the dollar values you’ve arbitrarily decided upon. You repeat this process until the total value for your stretch of Findley Road adds up to more than the total value of those three luxury homes. After a few iterations, you’ve made it work, the difference between the two numbers supposedly proving some point. This comparison was supposed to be satisfying—indisputable and empirical evidence that you’re right to feel as you do, that they’re wrong for doing what they’ve done. But at this moment, you don’t really care about the numbers or who’s right and who’s wrong. You’re desperately trying to remember every crevice of your stretch of Findley Road. You try to recall the deer, but all you see is an uncertain outline. Your mind substitutes the blurry picture for a clear stock image of a white-tailed deer, standing erect, gazing at you, ears quivering alertly.

Surely it’s close enough. It would fool anyone else—in fact, it almost fools you. But you know something’s wrong. You tell this deer and its perfect sunny background to scram, go somewhere else. You’re holding out for one more glimpse of the deer from your stretch of Findley Road.

ANDY LUO B’23 wants to get better at sharing with others.