The Langoliers (and picking up Efen's slack)

Ok, so I got kind of lazy. It didn't start out as lazy. It started out as busy, which turned into lazy. But then, two things happened:

Efen decided to go on blogger vacation. And as we all know, the rules state that no more than one blogger in an extended blogger family can go on blogger vacation at the same time. At least, according to the rules that I have made up in my own head. And then...

I totally got called out on Facebook by Vinomom, who, upon seeing my status as "Having the day off...." posts this comment:

"Well, I hope to see a new post up today!"

Curses! Totally busted. But she's right, I've been gone far too long, and truth be told, I've missed the pouring of my soul into blogland...whether you bitches have missed it or not. (And how is this for serendipity...just as I'm typing this, a comment from Momma on my previous post that she IS missing me! HA!)

Anyway...when last we spoke I was headed for the wild, wild west. And, I found it not particularly wild, but most definitely west. First let me say that Montana is flippin' breathtaking, and I'm forever grateful that I got to visit that beautiful state because chances are nil that I will ever go there again. By choice. Why? First of all, it's all far and stuff. Secondly, if you're not a skiier, hiker, snowboarder, rancher, snowball thrower, spelunker, or a cowboy on the lam looking to hide out, there isn't a whole lot there for ya. And as most of you know, I am none of those things. The shopping was limited. The restaurants were good, what few of them weren't chains. They have very little fast food, which was nice to see. But a girl can only shop so long in Target and Old Navy and Coldwater Creek. I'm just sayin'. And speaking of it being far...

It took me 17 hours from the time I boarded my first plane until I was safely ensconced in my hotel room. That's not counting the time from when I first woke up, got ready to go, drove to the airport, waited around there for a while...etc. My first flight to Atlanta was delayed due to fog. (Side note: Every time I fly now, I think of sweet GiGi...go visit her site and you'll know why!) My 2nd flight to Salt Lake City was delayed due to the fact that Atlanta is a ginormous hub and everything is always delayed from Atlanta. However...as we flew into Salt Lake, I have to say it was the most beautiful city I have ever seen. It was a beautiful, clear sunny day, and the view from the air was stunning. And I had quite a pleasant experience in their lovely airport, for the record. My flight to Bozeman was running on time, and I had just enough of a window to grab a bite of lunch and read my book for a bit. And then...things changed.

About 20 minutes before landing in Bozeman, the pilot announces that there "appears to be some weather" in Bozeman suddenly, and we would be diverted to Billings in order to re-fuel and determine what our next course of action would be. Okayyyy. Keep in mind that I'm about 12 hours into this foray by now, and I'm not a pleasant person to begin with. After we land, we're kept on the plane for a while, and the people around me start calling family and friends in Bozeman to find out what the story is.

"Ohhhh, really? That sounds bad."

"Is it still snowing? When did it start?"

"Blizzarding? No shit. Hmmm."

And they're all pretty calm about it, because evidently, this is the norm. Sunny and beautiful one minute, and white-out conditions the next. In the meantime, I'm trying to figure out how I can get to either a bar or the Billings Marriott, neither of which seems to be in reach at the moment. Finally, we're allowed to deplane. It's about 5:30 pm Montana time (whatever time that is...mountain? central? whatever) and the restaurant, bar, gift shop...everything....is already closed. WTF? This dinky little airport was deserted! It was just us...a small plane-load of unsuspecting travelers who found themselves in an eerily deserted airport..... Uh, huh, I'm telling you, it was like The Langoliers! I couldn't remember anything about that movie other than they landed in an eerily deserted airport, and I was pretty sure that eventually it was going to be like something out of "Lost". One older guy was going nuts, trying to rent a car to drive into the blizzardy Bozeman, over a mountain pass no less, and two younger guys were getting pissy with him and clearly wanted to beat his ass since he wouldn't shut up. My cell phone battery was nearly dead and I wanted to call Avis to make sure I could still pick up my damn car if and when I finally got to Bozeman, but....there were not even any payphones. OK...again, WTF?? Then I spied vending machines down the hall. I was pretty sure that if push came to shove, I could overpower most of the old people, if not the two younger guys. And the lady sitting in the seat next to me? Some sort of Hollywood wife, living in LA most of the time, but "has a home in Bozeman". Oh yeah, I could beat her pilates ass. Just because most of these people were all outdoorsy and athletic and shit didn't mean I couldn't scratch somebody to death with these fake nails if it came down to me or them in a Doritos showdown. Just sayin'.

But it didn't come to that, and a couple of hours later we were on our way to Bozeman, if only to circle the airport for an hour while trying to land. I was one huge raw nerve at that point, and while we were waiting for baggage, I meandered over to the car rental area and....no Avis. Say it with me now...WTF??? I asked, and oh, yeah, Avis is "off-site". Had to call. Had to wait for them to send their shuttle. Had to drag into that little office with fire shooting out of my eyes, waiting for there to be a problem with my car. But no...I even got an upgrade. Somebody either felt really sorry for me, or I was really, really scary. Care to wager?

Finally got to my hotel, gave my name, and "Oh yes, Ms. Elle, we have your reservation right here. And how would you like to pay?" WTF?!?! Everything is supposed to be paid for and taken care of by the training dept. for me...I just laid my head down right there on the desk. I guess that little guy felt sorry for me too, because he just decided to leave that little matter for the morning crew to take care of. Smart boy. I got upstairs to my nice, comfortable room, made a couple of phone calls, and slept the sleep of the dead. Or of a Langolier, or something.

The next morning, I look out my window, and this is what I see:




Pure, unadulterated, awesomeness.

Not sure if it made that dreadful trip all worth it...but it came pretty damn close.