How Did I Get Here?

Quote of the Day: “When I took office, only high energy physicists had ever heard of what is called the Worldwide Web…. Now even my cat has its own page.”

- Bill Clinton

Today was the day we had to get up early. That’s how we kind of labeled it but it should have been “The Day We Got To See The Buffalo.”

Being lazy-asses, all around though, it was the early part that took first billing. I mean, come on, we had to leave by 7:45!!!

Note that I refuse to use military time any more. If you can’t figure out that means “in the morning” then you don’t deserve to breathe. Go kill yourself now, please.

So, 7:45 for 17 people to leave means we had to be up at …. well, by some estimates, it should have been 6:00. But with me having to somewhat self-sufficient teenagers, it meant about 7:00 for me.

I am starting to see some advantage at having a 15 and 17-year-old instead of the toddlers that the other adults are chasing around here endlessly. How mine survived without me, you know, killing them, might be one of life’s big mysteries.

With minimal drama (note, I didn’t say NO drama!), we all made it out the door and into our respective cars. It would take a couple of hours to get out there but before that, we stopped at a grocery store to buy supplies. Of course the ladies were in charge of this and we men did what we do best in these situations: nodded in agreement and got coffee for ourselves.

Of particular humorous note: I saw a rather rough looking young lady get out of a car in the parking lot of the grocery store with a shirt that read:

“If you can read this, the bitch fell off.”

I had seen these before and it took me a second to realize the wrongness, other than the obvious of what not to wear in public. It was supposed to be worn by her dirtbag baby-daddy. Her’s was supposed to read “I am the bitch who fell off” which I’ve also seen with amusement.

We met up with my sis-in-law and her fiancé who would guide us out to his family’s ranch.

Miles and miles and miles of beautiful Montana scenery. Monotonous, yes. Beautiful, absolutely.

The ladies had planned out the whole day, of course. It consisted of getting a tour of the ranch, complete with artesian wells that bubbled out the most tasteless water you will ever put in your mouth. I mean that in a good way.

We had lunch (sandwiches that were made that morning which created such drama that I will not explain, but trust me, the Sandwich Drama was epic) and then split into two groups.

My group got to get in the bed of a truck and head out to see the bison.

A quick explanation here: bison and buffalo are the same thing, sort of. I asked about this and got some kind of explanation that I think I can say with confidence that they are the same. There seemed to be some cloudy area concerning the naming convention and I really wanted them to just say, yes, they are the same.

Is THAT animal that YOU call “bison” what WE would general call a “buffalo?”

“Sort of.”

OK, now you are messing with me.

It’s a friggin’ buffalo, OK? OK, that’s settled.

We drove out to the range for about 15 minutes and it was a scene right out of a Marlboro commercial. In fact, Marlboro has actually come out and photographed ads out here. Not hard to see why.

When we got to where the buffalo were (or were they bison?), Paul the Fiancé got out, grabbed a bag of feed which consisted of what appeared to me to be corks, and spread them in a semi-circle around the car.

“Here, buffalo!”

Really?

That’s how you get buffalo to come?

OK.

Before long, they wandered over to the truck and I found myself literally within feet of some of the ugliest, biggest bastards I have ever seen. I can say with confidence that I have never been this close to a real buffalo and unless I’m repressing some memory, it might be the first time I had ever even SEEN a live buffalo.

And there they were, a few feet away, grunting, shitting, and pissing right in front of me.

Do you know what animal a buffalo sounds like?

If you said cow, you totally screwed up.

For those of you that guessed “pig,” give yourself a feed cork prize.

Even though there were little kids in the bed of the truck with me and these enormous beasts could have rolled the truck like a toy, I was not scared. Not even when one of the bulls chased around some of the others (for the reason I can only guess as “being a dick”), and one of them hit the side of the truck, rocking the entire one-ton pick-up like it was a Yugo.

One of my nephews thought this was a prime time to crawl through the rear window and spend the rest of the visit in the cab.

We learned a lot about buffaloes from Paul as we stood there and gawked at the great beasts. To me, it seems that the bulls’ heads were disproportionate to their size, despite their size being in the “friggin’ huge” category.

Some of my general observations:

- Ugly
- Smelly,
- Willing to drop enormous mounds of shit and rivers of piss
- Like eating corks
- Animals I would not to have been on even ground with without a vehicle for perceived safety

OK, meeting buffalo up close and in person: box checked. Cool.

When we got back, we got our shot at riding horses while the other group got to come out and gawk at the buffalo.

I got to ride Zippy.

(not me but my sister-in-law from the famous “Don’t Look At My Junk” pic)

Yes, the horses name was Zippy and I don’t think the bastard liked me much. My wife made the suggestion that I should ride it, I assume based solely on the fact that SHE rode it. Every time I was around this horse, it seems to sway its head and I had to watch it or be clocked.

But I rode it (I don’t know if it was male or female so it’s an “It”) and was surprised how much my minimal horseback riding in Saudi helped me out. I actually looked and felt rather comfortable on top of the horse, as opposed to my brother-in-law Scott who was experiencing his first time on a horse.

Or should I say, the first time he got to get his nuts grated across a saddle and/or having them crushed between his body weight and the saddle while trotting.

There I was with my Australian bush hat on…

… (thanks, Kate and Russ! I bet you never thought your gift would end up making me look like a cowboy in Montana!) and looking at home on Zippy. I look back, and I see Scott hunched over with both hands on the saddle, and being bounced up and down directly on his testicles.

I couldn’t help but laugh until I had nearly the same stomach pains I’m sure Scott was experiencing.

Ride ‘em cowboy!!!

When it was time to go (and Scott carried his crushed man-onions in a Dixie Cup), we all gathered our kids, which, again, was a lot easier for me than others..

“Alex, Steph, ready?”

That’s about all it took.

We were going to hit a place called Huckleberry Inn which begged the question “What the f#%$# is a huckleberry?” I asked as much on my Facebook after taking a mobile pic with Gert and uploading it.

I wonder if huckleberries are like snozberries from Willy Wonka:

“The snozberries taste like snozzberries”
“Snozberries? Who ever heard of a snozberry?”
“We are the music makers, and We are the dreamers of dreams.“

It ended up that it didn’t matter because they were closed so we all ended up at Pizza Hut.

17 people.

One Pizza Hut.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out the service sucked, it took forever, and I ended up eating way too much when it eventually came.

In fact the FIRST time I had to go to the counter to get my root beer refilled, the fat guy just took my cup and filled ‘er on up.

You may think it was cruel to call him “the fat guy” but this was not the guy who just let himself go a bit and packed on a few pounds. This guy was of mega-proportions. He rivaled some of the buffalo I saw today.

Fat people would look at this guy and say “whoa.”

We’re talking “in need of intervention.” If that dude don’t get some help, he won’t see 30.

Anyway, the reason I bring up the refill situation is because the SECOND time I went up to get a root beer fill up (I was thirsty after a day out on the ranch, podna’), the pixie girl took a pitcher and filled it up part way to pour in my cup, explaining that for health reasons, they couldn’t push used cups up against the dispenser.

Seems Big Boy didn’t hear that part at Pizza Hut orientation.

By the time we got back to the cabin, everyone was tired. This didn’t keep anyone but me to consider doing something about that, like something crazy, like, going to bed.

Everyone else thought it was a good time to stay up, play games, and talk.

I am not of that mind so I went to sleep.

Or tried to.

I made a discovery tonight:

- the room we are staying in is directly below the kitchen.
- this room was an add-on
- when they added on, they didn’t insulate it very well

The net effect was that it sounds like a hockey game is being played right above you and even tapping feet and scooting chairs are magnified to an obnoxious degree.

At 1:30 (that’s A.M. folks!), they were having their fun while I, on the other hand, was downstairs in the sound chamber.

And that is not the “no-sound” chamber.

Quite the opposite.

And I was not happy.

Free Advice for Today: “Don’t weigh 400 pounds.”

- Jason Grose