Middle of Nowhere Montana

After Glacier, we thought our trip was over. It was time to head back, and I was fine with that. I had no problem driving 24 hours home after the trip we had. We partied in Chicago with strangers, watched an outdoor movie surrounded by corn, saw mountains, hiked those mountains, and white water rafted. Our trip planning was done, or so we thought…

After our last day in Glacier, we had two options. The first was to do a “fun float” with the rafting boys we had met the night before. This would consist of drinking and hitting all of the obstacles on the raft. With more time at Glacier we could also hike, but this meant a 16 hour drive the next day.

Our second option was to head 8 hours back on the edge of Montana. We would meet one of Kayla’s ex boyfriends, Cole, and spend the night. Now, I know how this sounds, but they dated in high school. He had moved from New York out to the country, but they still kept in touch as old friends. We had no plans other than to catch up with him, but we chose this option because it would be less driving. Don’t the best stories always come at the last minute?

Along the drive, we saw absolutely nothing for 8 hours. Not even corn or mountains or trees, we saw the road and dirt. We were hesitant when the directions said that we were 10 minutes away, and we couldn’t see a house for as far as we could see. Sure enough, within the last two minutes, we saw a town. This town was small, but the biggest place we had seen since Glacier. It had a lot of residential houses, with the exception of a few light up signs and hotels. The signs looked new, the mostly promoted bars and places to go. Once we drove closer, it was nothing but an empty dive bar. This town looked like a post-apocalyptic Las Vegas. It had attractions and potential, but everything was dusty, empty, and run down.

We get to Cole’s house and are met by Cole and his friend, Weston. They each take off their hats, introduce themselves, and helped us with our luggage. After spending our lives out north, Kayla and I laughed. We teased them for their politeness, realizing that we didn’t act the same. They said that it was proper manners, and did not laugh with us.

Once inside, the apartment was virtually empty. The walls were brown with a tan carpet. The one decoration on the wall read “Faith, Family, and Freedom.” I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it seemed fitting for Montana. We took a shower before we began our night. The shower was empty except for one tube, which was a 5 in 1 soap. 5 in 1. There was shampoo, conditioner, soap… what else? Regardless we used it, although we made fun of Cole Handley, and got ready for the night.

I put on my jean shorts and of course, my newly found cowboy boots. To top it off, I found a cowboy hat on top of the fridge and put it on. Both Cole and Weston were freaking out.

“You can’t put on that hat!”

“Why did you do that, take that off”

“Don’t touch my hat”

I asked why, no answer. I secured the hat on my head and they laughed. They laughed really hard, and took a picture. Fine, I’ll bite. I asked what it meant. After a long, long pause they responded,

“Whoever puts on the cowboy’s hat has to take the cowboy home”

Ah, nice Montana. Luckily the hat I put on was a friend who had left for the week. After I took the picture I took the hat off. This seemed to be a universal rule in Montana which I did not want to abide by.

We left shortly after and went to their favorite local bar. Once we got in, there was one man sitting at the bar. Mind you it was a Saturday night. We got food and drinks and all the waiters knew the boys by name. They gave us free drinks, and the boys took care of the rest. We love small towns and good manners.

We went to the next bar which was packed to Montana’s standards. There was a group of 10 people in the bar. We played pool for a bit before we went to the next bar. The last bar was the most crowded. At most there were 20 people in the bar. It was a huge bar that could’ve fit an entire concert but I doubt many people had ever been inside it. The bar owners had two dogs that roamed around. They were friendly companions. At this point we figured this was Montana and this was our Saturday night. But it was only getting started.

Around this time, Weston asked us to dance. Now when someone asks to dance, in New York dancing consists of jumping up in the air and that’s about it. What Weston didn’t tell us is that he used to take dancing lessons with his ex-girlfriend. So when I turned around to see Kayla flipped upside down over Weston’s head, well obviously I had to get in line. When I danced with him he led the entire thing. I had no idea what I was doing, but he was able to dip me and fling me right side up over his head. He did this all with a busted ankle.

While we were sitting at the table, still in awe of western dancing, a group of locals came up to us and started talking about going for an adventure. Well obviously, we all went along for the ride. Cole, Weston, Kayla, and I hopped into a pickup truck with the five other people we met that night.

We were originally driving through the town, but a few turns in we found ourselves on a dirt road, with nothing for miles. Kayla and I stuck our heads out the sunroof of the pick up truck. It had begun to rain, which felt like hail on our faces. We were screaming into the wind, with country music blasting from the car. We planned to go swimming at a lake just outside of town.

When we got there, the ground was covered in mud, and the pick up truck got stuck. When I say “stuck,” the two front wheels were completely submerged into the mud, and the car had begun to go underwater. Oops.

While the group was trying to figure out how to get the car out of the mud, I hopped out of the car to see where we were. As I was looking at the car, a figure walked into the lake out of the corner of my eye. We met her at the bar, and I watched her calmly walk into the lake absolutely naked. Through her own inhibitions she walked into a lake at midnight butt ass naked. So of course, we did what we came to do, and went swimming in the lake. The lake was surprisingly warm. We couldn’t see anything under our feet, just darkness below and above us with the exception of the full moon and stars.

We got out of the lake when another person came to tow the truck. All of my clothes were soaked. I found a new sweatshirt in the car which I claimed for the rest of the night. I also found another pair of cowboy boots, size 7. Of course, I put those on, and claimed them as my second pair of the night. The owner of the car looked at the boots and let me have them. Cowboy Boots: 2 Air Force Ones: 0.

While I was going through the car looking for clothes I found the most Montana thing ever: a machete. I’m not sure when anyone would need a machete, but I was allowed to test it out. I went over to the field of long grass by the lake and started chopping. Kayla later recounts her favorite line from the night from me:

“I feel like I’m in Minecraft”

And I did! Blades of grass were flying all over the place as I waved the sword. No one liked a drunk girl with a machete so they soon took it and put it in the trunk of the truck again. At this point, it was dawn and the sun had come up. The car was still stuck, but it didn’t bother anyone. We turned up the country music, and went to the dock on the lake. We started dancing. Weston began to show off his moves again, but not everyone was impressed. Apparently everyone in Montana can dance like him. We danced at sunrise in the dock. Most people were in boxers and sweatshirts.

If you’re wondering what Weston is wearing, he originally had jeans on. His jeans got wet, and he used his pocket knife to cut them into shorts. There is no doubt in my mind he still wears those jorts.

By the time we tired out, the truck was towed and it was time to go home, finally. When we were leaving the lake it was 5am, Kayla and I had about 3 hours of sleep before we had to go on the road again.

Just as we were about to leave, the truck took a turn. At this point I was tired and grumpy, begging to go home and sleep. But it was a Saturday night in Montana, and this group wasn’t going to let me. They drove us to the highest point around. It was a construction facility, with one climbable tower. We sat on top of the tower and watched the sunrise. Country music was playing in the background, and we watched the sky turn from dawn to pink and orange.

They took us to a patch of chalked dirt that everyone wrote their names on. The new ones to the area found sticks and rocks to carve their names. Of course, I used the machete. So here I was, 6am in the middle of nowhere Montana, the sun was rising, country music in the background, with new cowboy boots on my feet, carving my name into the dirt with a machete.

I still only wore the cowboy boots and sweatshirt, everyone was still wet. Once we finished carving our names, we wanted breakfast. It was the morning, and what was the point of going to sleep now? We went back to the original dive bar we started at and got breakfast. During this breakfast I had asked someone to pass the ketchup. I got the response of:

“You could use please once in awhile”

I laughed. Excuse me? Please? I thought I asked nicely. I did not, as I did not add please at the end of it. Kayla and I were informed that we were rude, and didn’t have proper manners. Although we were embarrassed, they were right, people out west were way nicer. Someone from our group took care of the whole thing. We made sure to say thank you. Kayla and I walked out with new sweatshirts and sweatpants, along with my cowboy boots that my sweatpants were tucked into.

Once we got home it was around 8 in the morning. Kayla and I took over her ex boyfriend’s bed and slept for a few hours before we hit the road again. We woke up at 11am, said goodbye to our newly made friends, put on Crime Junkies, and drove in silence to Minneapolis.