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| Glitter church. |
Ending grade for Montana: Solid B. I liked it. I liked the people, and I never felt like a tentacled alien slithering from Applebee's to Applebee's pleading for a Glass of Watarrr with Sugarrrr. The countryside is beautiful this time of year, with the yellow long grass flowing under the shining sun. A sea of glowing grain. I also got a chance to hit up the
Cracker Barrel while in Billings. This is a place that owns me lock, stock, and barrel, not just because of the food (which is consistently yummy) but because the front store is always full of exactly the kind of garbage I like to blow money on. Encrust it with glitter and I will give you my dollars.
Once out of Montana and into North Dakota, the land turned craggy and strange, and before I knew it I was upon the
Theodore Roosevelt National Park. I hadn't planned to visit, but it was right there, there was no entry fee, and they had bathrooms, so I stopped for a brief review.
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| Montana rest stops offer helpful signage in case you need to ID a cow. |
It's a cool and strange place and I was glad I pulled over. I watched the
biography of the Roosevelts on Netflix when I stayed in the casita in Magdalena (New Mexico), so I remembered that this was where Teddy traveled after his first wife and mother succumbed to typhoid fever on the very same day. He hunted, played ranger, and worked out his grief in North Dakota, if I recall correctly, and I can see how it would be a worthy distraction, though North Dakota can be awfully harsh. Though maybe that was part of it, too.
I also photographed some less dramatic parts of North Dakota along the way. There were waves of hills in places that reminded me a bit of the Palouse, and it was lovely to see while it lasted...after Bismarck and toward Fargo, North Dakota gets really familiar. It is almost exactly the same as Kansas (flat grasslands and tidy crops, with clutches of trees here and there).
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| Behind the restaurant, where no one goes. Forever alone. |
After so much traveling, to circle back to the flatlands is both a relief and knife in the heart.
I want to keep Wagon Training, Vern. But it does get lonely and tiring, there's no denying that. If someone had told me how much missing those furfaces
that are my mom's cats and not my cats dammit would affect me, I wouldn't have believed them. There were nights, especially near the beginning, when I missed them so much I was almost in tears. Real, live human tears. For God's sake.
But finally I had reached North Dakota, and there was no more obvious a sign that I was nearing the end of my trip than the flattening out of the horizon to a rolling sameness dotted with clusters of haughty trees that refuse to die despite the abusive climate.
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| A Taste Sensation! |
Another sign of travel fatigue is having the same dish at
Applebee's four times now. And while I am so tired of new things and thus falling back onto soft places more regularly, this also qualifies as a big endorsement of said dish. It's off the light side of the menu, believe it or not, and it is called Cedar Grilled Lemon Chicken. This dish is the everlovin BOMB. It is flavortastic and just filling enough. And you don't leave the restaurant feeling like smuck (trans: gravy smothered truck).
I would be remiss if I didn't mention that Applebee's is also The Place, The Spot, The Jukejoint where all the hepcats hang in Billings, Bismarck, and Fargo. It was packed every night I went, and people were getting their drank on, like in a big way. Who knew, right? I always just thought of it as a place to take Grandma and Grandpa and get a halfway decent steak for like $12.
Anyway, I guess it was destiny that something was going to go awry. My illnesses long past, I hadn't hit any significant bumps in the road since and had been having a pretty good run overall, enjoying the places I visited and staying at some truly stellar AirBNBs.
On my way to Bismarck I received a text from the AirBNB host asking about my ETA. This is standard, and I try to be as flexible as possible since I don't have set agendas for the most part. I stated that I could be there between 6 and 7 and she said that would work. I specifically told her to let me know if she needed me to be there by a certain time.
Little did I know that not only was there no LTE service in the ND sticks, but there would be no LTE service again until I reached Fargo. Nevertheless, I was on track to make it to the AirBNB right before seven when I made a wrong turn.
Google maps can work even if you are out of range because the route loads from wherever you started. If I had started that day out of LTE or wifi range, I would have been screwed, but I'd gotten reception at the Starbucks on the way and had the map loaded and working...until I went off course. If you are in range, Google Maps will automatically reroute your course to get you where you need to go. If you are out of range, you have to look at the map on your phone and find your way back to the original course.
It is actually pretty amazing that Google Maps can do any of this in the first place, but a missed turn can complicate things if you are out of range and trying to hit a mark.
Anyway, I ended up arriving just a tad late (7:05) to find the husband and daughter sitting out in the cold waiting for me. He was pacing and she was sitting on the steps. After a frosty introduction (they were late somewhere), the kid showed me around and I discovered some unpleasant truths about the place I was staying for the next two nights:
- The ad for the space said I would have my own bathroom on the same floor. It failed to mention I would have to walk across the entire ranch house through the dining room, filthy kitchen, two hallways, and a laundry room to get to it. In the pitch dark. While trying not to step on cats.
- The window in the bathroom was open when I got there. Upon closing it, a smell of permanent cat urine arose.
- The whole house reeked of thick, heavy grease, not helped by the fact that the dirty pans were left out for at least a day. It smelled that way the entire time I was there.
- My room door had no lock (nor did the bathroom).
- My room featured a plug in air fresher spewing out a floral fume, something I would have unplugged except for the stench of grease.
- The bathroom amenities included a used tube of toothpaste.
- The carpet was dirty and stained.
- The man of the house was skulking around at all hours, even late at night and early in the morning, ever present as though he was making sure I wouldn't steal any of their rad stuff. He barely said a word to me when I would pass him. I never saw the lady of the house and only saw the one kid that first night.
- The house was a general mess--stuff everywhere, clothes and miscellaneous crap...something I would not have cared about if everything else wasn't so shitty, but ya know. In for a penny.
When I was there I kept to my room and avoided leaving as much as possible. One of the problems I have with AirBNB is ME: I tend to be pretty awkward around strangers and absolutely hate staying at other people's houses, family included, with one exception: Mom. Because we grew up together. But strangers? I wasn't even sure I could do AirBNB the social anxiety was so overwhelming.
But most of the time it really is fine. Sometimes there is awkwardness, or messiness, or little issues here and there. But it is usually just one or two things, not like,
seven. So I'm deciding how to address it. I haven't reviewed the place yet. The standard operating procedure in the AirBNB community is to not ding people for minor infractions. You'll find it is very rare to have hosts with less than five stars across the board. Those that do have 4 or 4.5 stars usually don't have big complaints. Every once in awhile someone will go AWF but about 95% of the listings I've reviewed over the course of the past year have had little to no drama (and a lot of compliments, etc.).
The Bismarck place, by the way, had plenty of rave reviews. Either my standards are too high or they're just baldfaced lying. Or they have little or no experience with AirBNB. It's confounding.
It bothers me that they might retaliate out of spite, but I can probably get AirBNB to clear my name if need be. Is it not my duty to warn people that the ad doesn't match the reality? I wouldn't mention the skulker (I may just be sensitive and, as I've said, am already awkward), but I have to mention the mess, the stench, and the fact that the bathroom is all they way on the other side of the house. I guess I just feel bad openly criticizing other people. And if they were letting people stay for free, I could hardly complain...but if I'm paying to stay there? C'mon, man. Used toothpaste? Really? Are we mouthkissing next?
What else?
All in all, though, the AirBNB experience has been pretty excellent. I will do a more thorough run down of the service after the trip concludes.
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| Montanaaaaaaa! |
My plan was to visit the aesthetically pretty pretty State Library in Bismarck, but weather that had been in the low 60s the day before had turned bitter and mean, with a hard frost across the city and a steady, biting wind blowing snow all day. I decided that my brief visit to the Bismarck Veterans Memorial Public Library the previous day could extend to a full day of work, pretty pretty libraries be danged.
Just inside the front doors there is a collection of photos showing the past and present main libraries of Bismarck--I can't begin to guess why the city decided to go from classic to wildly pedestrian, but that's their jam and to each his own.
On the brief first day, I spent my time down in the basement, a cold collection of stacks under bright, white light. What I will never stop kicking myself over is not recording the grandfather clock positioned nonchalantly by the elevator. It was one of those more recent brass and glass types, not the old wooden classic, and it would do the usual chiming on the hour and half hour to note the passage of time, but the subsequent BONG-ing was extra special. It didn't just do a stern but melodious GONG. Oh no no no. Now, imagine being down in the basement, vast white light, almost completely alone, and the clock to your left starts tinkly winkling. You've heard it before from a hundred other grandfather clocks, it's nothing special. Then the GONG starts banging, wretched and off key, a shattering, hellscreech of a gong, Gong, GONNNNNG, that jolts you straight out of your train of thought and jettisons you to a cold, airless planet. It honestly scared me at first, it was so out of place and creepy, then the absurdity hit me and I cackled, alone in the basement of the library. Then I was creeped out again. Luckily it was time to go.
I was pleased to see that this library lends art, as well, so the weirdo Wichita Main doesn't stand alone in that offering. A staff member of another library mentioned that they used to lend art, but that it had passed out of vogue years before. I suppose some libraries just don't give up. If you ever need a fancy blue boy, they've got just the blue boy for ya.
