Axe Murder Bears

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes. Turn and face the strain. (David Bowie’s Changes.)

Traveling nearly 1400 miles across country from the inner city to the Wild West is by definition change. Big change. The kind of change that professionals will tell you can cause “major stress and potential physical side effects” – or as Bowie would say, Strain. Did that scare me? Of course not! I mean, c’mon, I’m used to city stress and city dangers. I live in a neighborhood described by the powers that be as “in transition.” What this means is that not all of the houses are abandoned, any more. In other words, the neighborhood is in the process of being gentrified – early, very early, in the process.

On any day when I walk around the block I can be assured of running into a random variety of people from a fellow professor to our local “working girl” (for those of you not up to date on euphemisms check this) to the kind elderly couple who have lived in their house for 50 years and “raised all of our ungrateful kids here.” My daily walks, therefore, are filled with change and the need to adapt. Citygirl that I am, change could be my second name – but not something that I carry in my pocket for the local panhandling alcoholics. (Sorry! I can never resist a good pun.) All of which is my way of saying that the 1400 mile change from city to Wild West would just be a little longer walk around the block. (Cue hysterical laughing here – I know….)

Needless to say, the journey itself brought many changes – all of which I will share with you soon. For me, though, the big change occurred upon arriving in Cody at my temporary cabin home. Part of the Trail Shop Inn and Restaurant, this cabin, like the others, was not yet officially open for the season. The Trail Shop, located in the Big Horn Valley, sits at an elevation of 6600 feet surrounded by mountains (see the picture above taken from the side of the cafe) and enclosed by the blanket of stars notorious in the Wild West. Noticeably lacking are street lights or any lights to break the encompassing darkness. Also noticeably lacking in the middle of the night? People of any sort and most definitely any working girls. Despite this, lights streamed from the Trail Shop. My first citygirl thought? Fuck, there’s probably an axe murderer here. Because where else do you hear about axe murderers except in the middle of nowhere, which I’m pretty sure this place qualifies for in the middle of the night.

My friend’s first thought? A big bear may have come down from Yellowstone to scrounge for food. My response? Ok, before I tell you, understand that I was coming off 27 hours on the road including a crazy off-road detour less than 100 miles out of Cody. Twenty seven hours after an eight hour work day and way too much caffeine and sugary snacks along the journey. Keep that in mind. My response? “Fuck, what if it’s an axe murderer bear? That’s like a double threat!” (Yes you can cue even more hysterical laughing here.) In my defense, I know that the likelihood of an axe murderer being out here is slim to none and that as far as we know there aren’t any axe murderer bears, but I was beyond tired and at the time it made sense. And remember that smile which opens doors? I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t work on axe murderers or bears, let alone axe murderer bears. That and the fact that the reality of the darkness forced me to admit that my Wild West adventures might just be a bit more challenging than I originally thought – even more challenging than packing my life into three duffel bags.

I’m happy to report that the lights were nothing major, just an oversight from the last person out. And to date I haven’t seen any axe murderers, bears, or even any axe murderer bears. If I do, I’ll smile and hope for the best.

Lying Eyes

City girls just seem to find out early how to open doors with just a smile. (The Eagles’ Lying Eyes)

This has always been one of my favorite first lines. I heard it around the same time I learned the truth it holds. The first time a stranger, a man, ever opened a door for me was the summer I turned 12. I was walking into 7-11, saw a nice older man who had just left the store, and I smiled. He turned around, went back to the door and opened it for me. I blushed and mumbled thank you in my 12 year old adolescent way. I didn’t realize why he opened the door until a couple weeks later when I heard “Lying Eyes” for the first time. Ah, I thought to myself, I’m starting to get it now.

Since that time, my smile has opened quite a few doors (and my sneer has caused quite a few to be slammed in my face). The one thing that has remained the same is the fact that through and through I am a city girl at heart. I like falling asleep to traffic noises and sirens. Crickets? Noisy little things that cause me to toss and turn all night – no thank you. I can walk from one end of the Miracle Mile to the other in my highest heels, but if you ask me to do it in tennis shoes I will quickly complain how much my legs hurt. I’m pretty sure my calf muscles have been permanently shortened to accommodate my penchant for heels of all heights.

I’ve always assumed I would live out my years in one city or another, preferably one with lots of museums, small ethnic food joints, and enough traffic noise to soothe me to sleep after the hardest days. So a couple months ago when a friend suggested I come spend the summer with her in the mountains of Wyoming I laughed. Yeah, that will never happen, I thought. As we continued to talk, though, I found myself reconsidering and thinking I’d probably go out for a week or two. And then one day I woke up and knew I would be spending the summer. In Wyoming. Twenty miles out of Yellowstone. In the Wild West, otherwise known as the complete opposite of city life.

Once I wrapped my mind around how invigorating it would probably be for me to spend some time breathing mountain air instead of smoggy air, I started to get excited. If nothing else, this would give me a good reason to wear my vintage Tony Lama classic boots without having to answer questions about why I’m wearing cowboy boots. I’d get to be a cowgirl, and if you’ve ever seen a cowgirl you know that they have the best jeans around. Not designer jeans, but nonetheless jeans that hug every curve perfectly, and what better place to get such rockin’ jeans than from the source?

As the days toward my departure came closer, I found myself getting more and more excited (and getting less and less work done – who wants to work when the mountains are calling?). Friends kept asking me if I had started packing yet, and I would respond with a dismissive “Of course not. Packing is easy. I do it all the time.” Then came the do or die moment of actually having to pack. Of having to fit enough shoes and clothes for an entire summer into three 26 inch duffel bags. Gulp! One bag for shoes, two for clothes, but no matter how you add it up not enough room for all the clothes I’d like to take, let alone the shoes. The final result? Ten pairs of shoes, including my Western and hiking boots, so really eight. Hard choices had to be made. I never realized how much I enjoyed having a vast selection of shoes around – until they weren’t going to be around. When it came time to pack my clothes, even more difficult choices had to be made since I had to pack for the cold, snowy weather still happening in the mountains as well as the warmer weather to come in a few weeks. I did it. Reluctantly. I made the hard choices.

For the next three months, I will be far from any big cities. I’ll be living in Cody, Wyoming, a city of just under 9000 and located approximately 50 miles south of Yellowstone. Cody is surrounded by mountains and filled with cowboys and cowgirls. Real cowboys and cowgirls who make their living working on ranches, not urban ones who wear Ralph Lauren cowboy boots and drink overpriced imported beer. I’m pretty sure my city girl smile will help in ways I can’t even imagine. I’m wondering, though, do you think it will work on bears?