I mean, why else would straight, middle-aged me go to this?:
Lord knows that I am not the target audience.
My friend Wendy went with me. We were definitely the oldest people there by about 25 years. Two of a handful not in costume. And I’d bet a rainbow flag that I was the only heterosexual.
Not that any of this matters. It was a fun night. It was nice to get out, as my new job has consumed my life.
BUT we were there to see Big Freedia. And while I appreciate that you stepped in last minute when Freedia had a family emergency, I wasn’t really feeling your set.
I also wasn’t feeling the four bathrooms and two small bars for 500 people.*
I WAS feeling a new friend named Derek, though. Literally. He asked me to fix the garter buckle on the stockings of his sexy nurse costume. I was happy to help, and I ended up with what he proclaimed as my “new twink son.”
My first week went well. Everyone has been very kind, very welcoming.
I’ve also been a bit overwhelmed at the scope of the work to do. I stayed late every night this week trying to get a handle on my role. But my instincts have proven to be sound, and I’ll be fine.
The view from my desk
I have discovered that Oregonians are a particular kind of nice.
They are lovely people, but don’t seem to go out of their way to help. High school friend Aileen, who lives in Salem, warned me about that.
You have to ask explicitly for what you want.
For example, I locked myself out of my house for the first time in my life the week before I started work. The doorknob of the door leading into the garage has a thumb lock you really have to work at to pop out. I thought I had done that.
When I returned from taking out the trash, I realized I had not.
I had only the clothes on my back. No phone. And I was filthy because I had been painting and unboxing and trying to get the place in order.
I didn’t even know where campus security was to get help. (I live on campus.) I walked to my soon-to-be office building to call campus security. One of my direct reports was working late. I materialized in her doorway. She and I were both horrified at the state of me. She barely recognized me.
Beth?!
Yeah.
She called security and handed me the phone.
Security officer: I don’t know that we even have keys to that place.
Me: If you don’t, do you know a locksmith?
Him: I’m not from here. I don’t know a locksmith.
Me: Could I use your phone to call one?
Him: Sure. I’ll meet you at your house in 10 minutes.
We arrive at the same time. He tried the keys. No luck. I use his phone to call a locksmith. The dude has to come from Salem, which is 45+minutes. He asks me what kind of lock it is. I tell him it’s heavy duty because it’s campus housing. He says he might have to drill it out. We hang up.
Me: I don’t think the facilities group is going to like that.
Security officer: No. I don’t think the campus locksmith will either.
Me (incredulous): THERE’S A CAMPUS LOCKSMITH?!
Him: Oh yes.
Me: Well, can we call him?
Him: Yes, I’ll call the facilities manager on call.
Me: THERE’S A FACILITIES MANAGER ON CALL?!?
Darrell the Campus Locksmith got there in five minutes and let me in.
See what I mean? Nice but not forthcoming.
It’s different from Southern nice, where people WILL go out of their way but talk smack about you when the screen door shuts.
And different from Midwest nice, where people will go out of their way with no expectation of return favors and no gossip.
So now I know. I can work with that.
I’ll keep you posted on the adventures I expect to have.
My car arrived. I returned the RV. The boys left. The moving truck arrived. I lost count of how many boxes I opened in my quest to settle in. I gained a hundred bruises on my body. I lost weight via sweating.
It’s starting to come together, but it’s been a long week.
The house provided to me has not been loved for some time. I’m grateful for it, but it’s clear it has been short-term housing. I want to be here long-term. I want to leave it better than I found it.
So I painted the living room and dining room by myself.
Look at this nonsense I found while preparing to spackle:
Come ON!Who paints a living and dining room this yellow anyway? Yes, I know gray has a bad reputation, but it’s better than yellow.
I haven’t painted walls in YEARS. My body was a wreck afterward.
But it looks good.Sadly, there’s nothing I can do about the Blair Witch basement. Except not EVER go down there at night.I also met the neighbors.
I haven’t even started work yet, but I had a work event last night. My new university is home to a large wine festival. There is a salmon bake. I was invited to mingle with trustees and donors.
I hadn’t put on makeup and nice clothes for about two weeks.
I even got all the paint out of my hair!
I don’t know what I expected, but it was not the huge event that it was.
Look at all these people!Meat for milesThe salmon bakeAll local produce. Delicious!
I’m so glad I went. It was nice to be among people again after a week spent with boxes and Leo.
Things started looking up, scenery-wise, once we started driving along the Columbia River.
Once again, Leo could not be bothered.
That mouthJust LOOK at him!
Everyone perked up when the landscape started looking like what you would expect from the Pacific Northwest.
Mt. Hood welcomed us.Sasquatch hasn’t … yet.
We drove up to my new digs and got the key.
It’s got some things going for it (a big front porch, good size overall) but some things against (no central air, bathrooms are on the first floor while bedrooms are on the second).
And this kitchen — while fine — is nowhere near as great as my St. Louis kitchen.My St. Louis kitchen. See what I mean?
In fact, I missed my kitchen so much that I CRIED when my utensil organizer wouldn’t fit in the drawer.
It wasn’t about the drawer, though.
It was THE MOMENT that it all became real. I live here now.
This is Merle the RV at home in the Rushmore View RV Park. Merle seems like he’s old, fat and sleeps naked. You’d never know that Merle came in under cover of night and rain.Merle is basically parked in the lot for this place. Do NOT use a black light in any room.
We decided to eat breakfast in the thriving metropolis of Keystone.
Along the way, we saw more interesting chainsaw sculptures.
But we were there to see two much bigger sculptures.
Mount RushmoreCrazy Horse
I did enjoy seeing both these monuments. However, my experience was marred by a few things:
The oppressive heat. Surely I must have lost 10 pounds in water weight from sweating.
People. The older I get, the less I like crowds. And as these are tourist attractions, there are many people there. I think one person out of five operates on one brain cell. So you get hundreds of people together, and you are bound to have a pack of idiots.
Flies. The house fly must be the South Dakota State Insect.
The admission price. It cost $35 to get into the Crazy Horse Monument. That would be a good price if I liked museums or movies about history. I don’t. The family doesn’t. I think we should have saved money and just driven by. But we didn’t.
This photo cost $35. 😉
We got on the road to Cody just after noon. Wyoming makes South Dakota seem wildly overpopulated.
There aren’t even any billboards!
It’s flat for miles, then suddenly there was a canyon.
Eddie to me, the driver: Slow down, please.
Me: It’s fine. It just feels weird from over there.
Him: The brake isn’t working.
Me (alarmed): What do you mean?
Him: The brake over here (gestures to the passenger floorboard).
We rolled up to the Cody KOA at 6:52 p.m. When I checked in, I found out that there is a free shuttle to the Cody rodeo every night during the summer.
A RODEO!
But the shuttle would be leaving at 7 p.m.
Eddie didn’t want to go, so he said he’d handle setup. The boys and I ran over to the bus.
You KNOW I wasn’t going to miss my chance. I haven’t seen a rodeo since I covered one in Ludowici, Georgia, when I was a TV reporter.
I was DEFINITELY more excited to be there than they were.
The only bad thing is that the clown co-MC’s jokes were SO OLD. For example:
What do OJ and that Bronco running around there have in common?
It was weird to watch my car drive away without me.
I packed the remaining stuff for the RV and worried about space.
The next day, the epic road trip started out fine. I had to pick up the RV in Kansas City, so I hitched a ride with my brother who was headed there for a gig.
Look at me with Lodell: fresh faced and ready for adventure.
Why did I have to get it in Kansas City? Good question. Cruise America doesn’t have any locations closer to St. Louis. It was KC or Chicago. Weird, but ok.
While on the way, Gideon was updating me on the flight. Allegiant flies direct from Savannah, Georgia, to Belleville, Illinois, (close to St. Louis) seasonally. No frills, of course. It’s a sky bus.
Despite my flight tracker saying they were en route and the Allegiant app saying they were on time, they were delayed. No explanation.
According to Gideon, for a moment, it looked like they were going to board. But then, the flight was canceled. No reason given. No attempt to reschedule: Sucks to be you; we’ll give you a voucher.
The next flight out on any airline that would get them there that night was $1,319 per ticket.
Mama ain’t got that kind of cash.
Survey says: Delta for $259 the next morning.
I arranged all this while sitting on a stack of furniture pads in the RV place that doubles as a UHaul rental center.
So that was fun.
They headed home. So did I.
Despite being 30 feet long, the RV is easy to drive. It’s not cheap, though.
Yikes. That’s about 10 miles per gallon.
What I had been counting on was having help loading the beast for the trip with everything the movers didn’t take.
Thar she blows!
But that wasn’t the case. My next-door neighbors took pity on me and helped me with some of it.
Auntie Beth is back with more tips on how to live in a world with OTHER HUMAN BEINGS.
(Auntie Beth was in New York briefly for a conference and witnessed some very disturbing behavior.)
1. DON’T stand directly in front of elevator doors. It’s surprising this has to be said, but people likely are ON that elevator and need to get off. If you are standing there, you are making it difficult. The same goes for train doors.
2. DON’T stop at the top or bottom of an escalator to check your phone. Again, there are other people using the escalator and would like to keep moving once they are off.
3. DON’T walk three abreast on a sidewalk. AGAIN, there are other people in the world who would like to walk on the sidewalk.
Don’t be like these people.
4. DON’T leave COVID-time space between yourself and your companion while walking. For the fourth time, other people would like to get past you.
Please walk WITH your friend.
5. DON’T clump on the sidewalk to have a conversation. I mean … reread 1-4 for why.
Auntie Beth audibly sighed as she managed to hustle by these people taking up the whole sidewalk.
What do all these scenarios have in common?
The inability for the offenders to recognize there are other people in their orbit.
So attending this festival was a no-brainer. I put it on my calendar this time last year after I realized (to my dismay) that I had missed it.
A quick drive across the Mighty Mississippi, and I was in your thriving metropolis.
“Thriving.”
Granted, it was the first day of the festival, but I assumed there would be more.
More of everything, but especially HORSERADISH.
I saw more on the drive in than I did at the festival!
This was the ONLY VENDOR selling horseradish products:
And this was the only one with plants:
You know what the festival DID have, though?
Funnel cakes and corn dogsTurkey legs and tractors
As well it should.
It also had interesting information about the spicy root.
And town info.
Tom Petty night! I might be back for Rockabilly.
Still, I was … underwhelmed. I was in and out in fewer than 30 minutes.
Maybe I just needed to schedule my visit around the Root Toss or the Bloody Mary Contest or Root Grinding. In that case, I apologize for judging you harshly.
Observe and report 