Cowboys and Outlaws

Our first clue that the Cowboy Bar and Restaurant was going to be fabulous was that the door handle was a rifle. The place itself was pretty big inside, with a bar, a juke box and some tables up front, some more tables and a pool table in the back. The bartender was probably in his early to mid thirties (though it's hard to tell--people get weathered up here real fast). His name, amazingly, was Rex, and as we interrogated him, we learned that he was originally from Tennessee, but moved up here to be a ranch hand. What exactly was Rex's job as a ranch hand, you ask? Well, Lizzie asked, and she kept asking, and eventually our dear Rex blurted out that he inseminated the cows. Lizzie required a more indepth description of his duties, and apparently there isn't much romance, but a series of vaccines to bring the animal into heat, and then some turkey baster action. Rex administers the shots, and it's up to the ranch owner to do what Rex called the "Tail end of the job". I'll say. Anyway, Rex turned thirteen shades of red while telling us all this, but it didn't keep him from making our drinks strong. Then again, maybe he made them strong to shut us up, as if that would work (note, I asked for a whiskey sour, and he was confused and said 'we have margarita mix', so I just mixed it with tonic water instead. Yeowza).

As we continued to converse, Rex alluded to some fugitive action that had gone down recently (apparently the Cowboy bar and grill was also where Butch Cassidy was arrested years ago for horse theft), and Craig Johnson had also mentioned it, so we asked for the details. My Dad is going to love this. So apparently one of the three fugitives (referred to as the newish Bonnie and Clyde) after stabbing a man 51 times ("Fifty-one times," said Rex, "That' s so...so much rage...it's so..." "Personal?" I add) escaped to Meeteeste, and ate in THIS VERY BAR. He was sitting in the seat Lizzie was in, and Rex couldn't get over how lucky they all were, because this guy could've easily killed them all. He had asked Rex not about cow insemination, but rather about how many folks in the bar were carrying fire arms (all) and had tipped well after getting smashed and not eating all of his chili burger. He went to church on Sunday, singing and all, and was arrested the next day outside the Cowboy Bar and Grill. Rex thinks he was tired of running, but was grateful he hadn't decided to shoot him in the back of the head and rob the till. We are too, Rex.

We continued to chat (and drink) and toward the end of the night, after playing some awesome music on the jukebox (my favorite being Elvira by the Oakridge Boys), we decided it was time to leave. Our friend Rex took this opportunity to tell us that there had been tons of bears around, and to be careful walking the block home (it was around midnight now). We joked and said "So, if we see a bear we run?" and he said "No! Never run! Try to make yourselves look big!" Not a problem after the myriad of fries I'd eaten that day. We shook hands with Rex (who was still shaken up about the fugitive not shooting him) and took off into the dark. When we got to our motel, I being the more sober of the two of us (for once), got the key ready. I saw a small black furry thing running away (it was about dog-sized) and said "at least it's not a bear" but then, because I shouldn't say things like that, saw a GIANT BLACK FURRY THING coming toward us from the woods. We didn't wait to find out what it was (Elk? Bear? Mountain Man?) and we pushed in and shut the door behind us.

Phew.

Sunday morning we did not, unfortunately, go to church, but rather had breakfast at Lucille's, Lucille, in her time, was enamored of ferrets, because her diner was full of ferret decorations including a taxidermied ferret. Mmm. Made my oatmeal go down so much better. After Lucille's, we hit the road, and after 7 hours of driving through some pretty treacherous weather, we arrived in Salt Lake city. At one point the rain was coming down horizontally--it looked like snow. Our flight leaves early tomorrow morning, and we land in Boston sometime after 8, if everything goes well. See you all soon!

Midnight at the Oasis

Adventures! So Saturday morning we left Bozeman, none too soon because it was oddly pretentious, and the attitude we were getting from some of the residents was giving me the rage. We stopped in Columbus, MT for lunch. Columbus was on fire. Not all of it, but there was a huge wild fire going to town on a parched mountain off the highway. The pine trees looked petrified. (ha ha). Columbus is a teeny tiny town, population of like, fifty, four of whom were in the "steak house" we stopped at. There was a Father and Daughter at one table across from us, and behind them were two men. They all knew each other, and were chatting, and Lizzie and I eavesdropped as we nommed our delicious burgers. When Dad (who was about 75) went to go to the bathroom, we learned from Daughter that she was upset because her Dad had taken up with the local ho, Modine. Apparently Modine was having Dad drive her around, and even drove Dad's truck without a license! Shame on you, Modine! Daughter is trying to get Dad to leave his apartment and move to assisted living to get away from that tramp. God speed, daughter. On another important note, the young man acting as manager of the "steak house" had a giantic belt buckle on that said "Git R Done", which was magical.

We escaped Columbus (and that ho, Modine) and made it to Wyoming. We drove into Cody, which is an adorable little western town named after, of course, Buffalo Bill Cody. Here you could buy a pair of cowboy boots for the low, low price of $3500, try on some chaps, and drink your iced coffee so fast you get a stomach ache. Guess which one of the three Lizzie and I did? After Cody we made our way to Meeteetse, as an author Lizzie fancies (Craig Johnson) was giving a reading.

Meeteetse is another teeny little town, population 350, on the Greybull river. It boasts two motels, the one we stayed at being the above pictured "Oasis" (the other was "Vision Quest". Yikes). Also within its one-block downtown is a couple of restaurants, and an oddly out of place fancy chocolate/coffee shop, called "The Chocolatier", where the reading was.

The Chocolatier is apparently a big deal, and is run by a rather fetching cowboy looking chap, though he seemed a little too into his own big-fish-in-little-pond status. The reading was fun, the author a good story teller, and very charming. We met his wife, who is, oddly, from Connecticut, and who went to Wellesley College. One of the characters in Craig Johnson's books is a woman who swears like a sailor, and that particular trait is based on his wife. Us New Englanders like to cuss.

After the reading, we went to the gas station/convenience store to pick some stuff up, and the clerk asked us if we were staying at one of the ranches. We said no, and she said "Apparently two English girls took a puppy from around the corner" and we were bemused that she thought us English. Then we were like "Who takes a puppy?" Anyway, there wasn't time to dwell, as the Cowboy Bar/Restaurant across the street was calling us. It requires its own post...

This Tree is Petrified

Don't be scared, ancient redwood tree...

Waterfalls and Hot Springs and Bears, Oh My!

Hello dearies! We're in scenic Bozeman, Montana, kicking back with some delicious Bacardi Silver Raz procured from the local CVS. That's right, friends, out here in the Wild Wild West, one can buy booze at the CVS.

We started the day in less delicious circumstances. We had stayed in Yellowstone Park at the Pioneer Cabin (hmm) and for some reason the heater wasn't working, and I froze my metaphorical balls off. It was probably 45 degrees out overnight, and the tile floor was so cold I couldn't walk on it in bare feet. Lizzie and I threw our things together as quickly as possible, sadly motivated more by the desire to escape the cold than by our can-do attitude. We had breakfast at the lodge, and then made our way up towards the north end of Yellowstone. Everything was so beautiful it was sort of ridiculous. More stunning canyons, unbelievable vistas, pristine lakes, as if nature was going to the prom all the time or something. We stopped at Tower Falls, which was gorgeous. Unfortunately we couldn't hike to the bottom, because of some flood damage, but what

we were able to see was killer. After Tower falls we hit the Calcite springs, which were super cool as well. Our last stop in Yellowstone was Mammoth Hot springs, which is at the north entrance. It's another geothermic formation, with all sorts of cool looking terraces carved out by the steaming water. Despite my stupid cold, I managed to climb up to the tippity top (mouth-breathing for part of it, but hopefully no one noticed) and sadly for me, the view at the bottom was more interesting than the view at the top, and there was a parking lot at the top terrace, which is cheating if you ask me. After the springs, we were ready to head up to Montana, but I went the wrong way and we drove west for 20 miles instead of North for 5. On the upside, on our little detour we got to see this pretty cool bear. Rarr.

We did eventually make it to Montana, and Bozeman is adorable. It thinks it's quite a bit hipper than it really is, with its coffee shops with free wifi, but hey, any city where you can buy toilet paper and alcohol in the same store is pretty urbane.

Did someone ask for pictures of dioramas?

$6.66 and bargains with the devil

So here’s something unsettling for someone who is vaguely superstitious. Twice on this trip, I have bought some items at a store, and my total has come up to $6.66. First it was band-aids and beverages at a Rite-Aid in Utah, and today it was more beverages (it’s dry here) at the Old Faithful cafeteria. Does this mean that the super volcano is in fact getting ready to take us out? Is it my magic elbow (see New Orleans trip) up to no good? In any case, Lizzie and I were driving to our in-park lodgings, and I said “we’d better see some animals” in a (what I thought was humorous) threatening manner, and as I uttered the words, there was a train of cars pulled over on one side of the road (Elk) and then about ten feet further down the road (moose) and then about another fifty feet down the road on the other side. I said, again being klassy, “If that is a bison I will shit” and guess what? Bison. Luckily I didn’t say “I will shit now”, and I had some time to fulfill my bargain with the universe. One shouldn’t make promises one isn’t ready to keep. Anyway the bison was adorable, and we took some pictures of/with it, fearing that we’d be gored at any minute. I actually said “They’re so scary!” and this dude laughed at me and said “Did you say they were scary?”, all patronizing and shit. Yes, jackass, any animal which could gore you is scary. I feel a little bad because he’s probably going to get killed by a buffalo now, but that’s what he gets for being arrogant in front of the magic elbow. Related, Lizzie and I promised all sorts of exciting bathroom compromises if we get to see wolves and bears, so we’ll keep you posted. We did see some more Bison on our journey to our cabin, one which small children were playing near/around (gore city), two which were sauntering down the side of the road (the first of which had a NASTY head cold, much like myself. There was some epic snot drippage. I hate nature) and one in a pretty yellow meadow. Also, she says, sort of guiltily, we saw one from the restaurant we were eating in (it was walking around in the parking lot near the loading dock) as we enjoyed our Bison Asada. So tasty. Hope we didn’t eat the snotting buffalo. Also, Lizzie and I were discussing why some animals ventured closer to the traffic, and I decided that the park hires animal actors to engage the tourists. When Lizzie asked me what they paid in, I said Buffalo Nickles. I’ll be here all week, folks!! Or at least until tomorrow.

The Earth has Gas

Old Faithful, obviously excited by our arrival, blew just as we were walking from the parking lot to the viewing area, so we missed the big show, and would have to wait at least 90 minutes for the next eruption. We walked around the geyser basin, and saw all kinds of crazy stuff. There were mud pots, burbling geysers of all shapes and sizes, emerald blue pools filled with scalding water, and small, cavernous holes in the ground which I referred to as “Earth Vaginas”, just to gross out the passersby. I am klassi (speaking of—we get very few radio stations up here, but my favorite by far is KLSCE, Klassy radio, which is all soft rock and love songs, just like Delilah back home. Stay Klassy, Wyoming!) Many of the smaller geysers have names, such as the lion trio (which apparently give a low roaring sound when they’re about to blow), beehive geyser (looks like a beehive) Ear geyser (shaped like an ear) and Infant geyser (where you throw in your infants). There were signs everywhere telling you not to toss stuff into the geysers, and underneath those signs were signs saying not to bring your pets to the SUPER GEOTHERMIC CALDERA (YAY! SUPER VOLCANO!) and Lizzie and I conflated the two signs and for a minute thought it said not to throw your pets in the geysers, which was disturbing for a minute. We thought we were going to see Poodle Geyser (where you throw in your poodles). Infant geyser is real, by the way. I made up the infant tossing part (I hope) but that is the actual name of a geyser. Some of the geysers were nameless, and I wish I could supply the names, because then we’d have “Smells like a fart geyser” “Sorry I just ate Mexican geyser” and “Diaper Change Needed geyser”. The smell was pretty atrocious in some places, and we also learned that, should the smell of the boiling geyser not be a deterrent to sticking your face in it, you can also get meningitis and/or legionnaires disease from the bacteria-laden steam.

We went back to the Old Faithful viewing area about 20 minutes before it was about to blow, and we sat next to this cute brother/sister pair, who were probably in their early 20s. The brother asked to borrow a coat from his parents (when the sun went behind the clouds it was chilly) on the condition that the coat not obscure the awesomeness of his howling wolf t-shirt, and the sister pointed out this terrifying digger-wasp which was, well, digging through the soil off of the viewing platform, probably looking for some innocent bug so it could lay eggs in his head. Unfortunately, our amusement at our neighbors was short lived, because this god-awful couple from Idaho descended upon us, Grandchildren in tow, and Grandma managed to sustain the most inane, yappy conversation for the entirety of the time we were waiting for the geyser. And guess what? Old Faithful was not as faithful as it could’ve been. The grandkids were whining the whole time that they were bored, and wanted to go, and Grandma was yapping over them about how she wished she could predict the geyser’s explosion, because boy wouldn’t that be easier for all of them, but Old Faithful was probably tired, and not ready to erupt, but when it did, boy, wouldn’t you know it because there’d be steam and water, and it’d go really really high. No, really high, but boy, I think Old Faithful is tired and SHUT UP!! ONLY ONE GEYSER CAN ERUPT AT A TIME, AND OLD FAITHFUL WILL NOT ERUPT UNTIL YOU STOP YAMMERING!

Finally, thank god, Old Faithful did its thing, and it was super cool. I read in this Bill Bryson book that eventually Yellowstone, which is a super volcano, could blow up and take out most of the western hemisphere, but should that happen, I’m taking some solace in the fact that it will finally put an end to that woman’s incessant yammering once and for all. I just hope I go in the first explosion, because I am not much a fan of volcanic winter. Too cold, and not enough sun.