Rest Your Weary Head

You might think this is funny.  Two nights ago when we couldn’t find a hotel in Yellowstone, the girls suggested we sleep in the car.  Mind you, this is after out wild west buffalo experience. After seeing elk with horns as wide as the car and about three feet tall.  The same elk I might ad, that we were warned are very aggressive this time of year – if you catch my drift. Armed with the knowledge that bears and wolves and mountain lions all live in this park ... they want to sleep in the CAR.

Now, I was driving.  The windshield was littered with bugs, so many that it’s almost like trying to drive while looking though a kaleidoscope -- in the pitch black darkness. After driving all day -- about 400 miles -- we stop around 9:00 pm.

Today, Mom’s driven about half the miles, is complaining about the bugs on the windshield in broad daylight, and at 6:30, she thinks we should stop for the night.  Her argument is valid for three reasons.

1. She’s tired.
   
2. Grandma’s tired.
3. I’m tired.

But we’re still more than 200 miles short of our goal -- Newcastle, Wyoming.  And guess who I bet is driving much of the day tomorrow?

Tisk, tisk … I’m such a bad daughter.

Let me tell you what booking rooms is like.  The girls set a budget of $70 per night.  That’s $70 total. Do you know how hard it is to find a place you would want your own Mother – let alone Grandmother – to sleep for seventy bucks?  I mean, I have standards, but I’ve also been to India, where the carpet is wet and the bed bugs bite and leave welts.  There’s a strange correlation here with Grandma’s insistence that they moved the Alamo. 

They moved the hotel prices!

The hotels where we’ve stayed that fell in the target price range were definitely frill-free, but not bug free.  With the exception, of course, of that GREAT place in Deming that was about the same price Gram paid for a top-of-the-line place when they went out West half a century ago.  And the only reason we got it for that price was because there was no working TV in the room.  Apparently, to the average clientele, a TV is worth about $25.  Frankly, I’d rather not have one at all.

I’m off subject.  My point is – it’s a pain in the butt to try and get a decent hotel for under $100.  First, I call Hotels.com.  They have a loyalty program where you stay 10 nights and you get one free.  I thought it would be a great way to get us a free night somewhere. But it’s not always cheaper.  So I cross-reference it with the hotel itself. If neither of those prices is close, we pull over so I can pirate someone’s internet.  That’s definitely a crap shoot worthy of thousands in Vegas.  

Will Amy get on line, or won’t she? Place your bets ...

Tonight, Hotels.com has a Comfort Inn located in Worland, Wyoming for $109 per night.  The hotel quotes the same price.  After three attempts, I get internet access and find that Priceline is offering the same $109, so I try their bidding option starting at $50.  Nothing.  I call the hotel back and negotiate $93.99.  We save $15. 

Not bad, considering that at my current stress level, I’ll need a $100 massage to get back to normal. Or a martini, but I think this is the sort of town where you’d get shot if you ordered one in a bar.

I'll settle for a muscle relaxer and a nine-hour love affair with my ear plugs.

Yellowstone, How I Love Thee -- Let Me Count The Ways

For your video pleasure ... an overview of my new burning obsession.

We get a slow start, rolling back into the park.  We stop at the Eagle Chevron station near the hotel.  There's no credit card machine at the pump, so I go in (ugh ... modern day inconveniences!)  Jim says these pumps are thirty years old.  I can't even put a dollar amount on the pump because they don't stop automatically.  I tell Jim I'll leave him my credit card if he'll just open the pump up.  He says he just got out of the state pen and I should take it with me.  

I think he calls me baby doll.  I like Montana.

When we get into the park, our first stop is a bison sighting.  We stop and watch from the side of the road, though about a dozen people climb down the embankment to get closer.  These animals spook easily and run at speeds up to 30 miles per hour. Sadly, there's no cure for stupid.  I wait for a while thinking maybe somebody will get gored, and then I'll get the better pics. But this is a patient bison, so we move on.

We stop at the first big string of geysers.  It smells like rotten eggs.  We see a little kid trying to reach down to touch the water.  And older woman says "NO" to him, then apologizes to the parents for correcting their son.  It used to take a village, but now the village is full of idiots.  

And the idiots are breeding.

Then it's on to Old Faithful, where we have to wait only about a half hour for lift off.  Flat Stanley can hardly sit still.  There's another geyser -- the beehive -- that goes off just before.  It's quite a display, but only goes off once a day.  When the main event blows, Mom says it's kind of anti-climactic.  She's seen it before and swears it was bigger last time.  Everything looks bigger when you're a kid.

It's way later than we planned when we head out, and it's a long haul out of the park.  

On the way, there's just one thing I have to add.  You can't possibly grasp the long lasting devastation brought on by forest fires. Every time I see people smoking in the park I want to punch them.  I've never hit anyone in my life.  Near Lake Yellowstone, we drive for miles with one sight on either side of the car.  

Mountains that look as if they are covered with sticks.  Trees stripped of their glory, the bark still bearing the black blisters of fires that ravaged their needles -- and life -- away.  It's just acre after acre of lifeless desolate forest. 

Depressing.

The Difference Between Bison and Buffalo

What we saw yesterday was a BISON ... not a buffalo. Here's the difference on a five-point scale:

BISON

1. Have beards.  I'm not much for facial hair -- but it looks good on Bison.
   
2. Sharp, small horns -- all the better to gore you with, my dear.
3. There are 300,000 or less in existence.
4. Large hump.  My humps, my humps ... my lovely Bison lumps. Check it out. (half of you have no idea what I'm going on about ...  CLICK HERE)
5. Thick fur ... everywhere ...

BUFFALO (of the water persuasion)

1. Beardless.  
2. Horns ... not sharp, but long.  Bison have horn envy.
3. About 150 million remain.  Strength in numbers.
4. No hump.  No bump.  No lump.
5. Thin hair. Less sweat.

But here's the deal ... after our run in last night, I ate a delicious delicious bison ribeye.  It was kind of retribution for that bastard scaring the daylights out of Mom.

Not really.  I just like steak.