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.