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Visiting Yellowstone National Park is not usually an adrenaline charged experience. Sure, it involves watching huge geysers erupt from the ground and making a spectacle of themselves. It involves driving through spectacularly lovely landscapes and encountering law-abiding bison munching on grass. But it does not typically involve adrenaline in any significant measure.

Unless you happen to be traveling with my husband, a man driven by a steely determination to get his money’s worth out of every dollar and an obsession with having pictures taken of himself against every possible backdrop. Wait, you say. How does this result in any type of adrenaline rush?  Ah, but therein lies a tale.

Source credit: Daniel Mayer, via Wikipedia

I had a mild foreboding of things to come on our way to Yellowstone from Jackson Hole airport. The night was pitch dark and the road windy. I promptly fell asleep, leaving my husband in charge. On and on, the car went uphill for about 2 hours before we realized that we had gone up the wrong road. We had to retrace our path and managed to take the right road this time around but not before taking an accidental detour into what turned out to be an eerie private dirt road. I started to wonder what would happen if our car were to break down in that place. There was not a soul for miles around, unless any large guys with chainsaws happened to be lurking unseen. I quickly put such thoughts out of my mind and sensibly went back to sleep. At some point presumably, we got back on track and arrived at our destination. .

Despite this inauspicious start, the next 3 days were deceptively peaceful. We drove around as much of the park as we could and met bison so frequently that we started to get to know them by their first names. And this was part of the problem.

You see, in my native India, the bison’s cousins the water buffalo are very common, not only in the countryside but even on city streets. Though they are a major source of milk supply, they are not really well regarded.Buffalo are considered dirty, lazy animals lacking in self respect. Unfair stereotype, especially for so useful an animal, but there it is. So when we encountered bison in Yellowstone, we did acknowledge that they were big and could be dangerous when provoked. But there was the nagging thought in the back of our minds that these animals were merely glorified water buffalo. Were there no other animals around here that were more impressive?

Allegedly, there were. The literature and web sites we had researched had stated that Yellowstone was  home to moose, gray wolf, grizzly and lynx, amongst other species. But to our disappointment, except for the all-pervasive bison and a few deer, we hadn’t really seen any of the others and had not had the opportunity to take their pictures. My husband thought it essential that we see at least a couple of other animals, else we weren’t getting our full money’s worth out of ourYellowstonevisit. I pointed out that we’d seen extraordinary geysers and lovely landscapes and best of all, were not cooped up in the office going to meetings. But the man was having none of it. He demanded grizzly and wolf and moose. At every bend and curve he hoped to see glimpses of these animals but was consistently disappointed for 3 days.

On the last day, we headed out to the airport at Jackson Hole to catch our 5PM flight back home. The husband had his camera on the ready and clicked everything in sight along our route. Every time we passed through a pretty vista, he stopped the car to get pictures.

And so the afternoon wore on.   We then came to a dam that we didn’t remember seeing on our way up toYellowstone, possibly because we were too busy getting lost in the night and driving through eerie fields. So of course the husband insisted that we stop and walk around a bit and take pictures in a variety of poses. I tried to spoil the fun by warning that we were getting late for our flight but was roundly ignored. After much gamboling around the dam, we drove on.

After a while, we saw a small crowd collect on the shore of a very pretty lake. On enquiring, we were told that there was a moose on the other side of the lake. The husband all but flew out of the car, camera on the ready. The moose was too far to be seen with any clarity, but we got chatting with a photographer who had been tracking the moose for a long time. Now I’m one of those people whose expectation of a camera is that it should (a) take pictures  and (b) look cute. In fact, I bought my camera because of its ‘plum’ color. It may not have been the best camera for landscape photos (even I could see that), but boy, was it cute. But this gentleman took his photography very seriously, so seriously in fact, that he had with him a big tripod with a lot of expensive looking gear and assorted lenses and binoculars.

He was (alas!), a very friendly guy and offered to let us view the moose through his fancy equipment. By now, I’d lost all hope of making it to the flight on time and just decided to go with the flow. We took turns looking at the moose through the photographer’s binoculars and admired its horns, the way it was sitting on the grass and even its facial expressions. We also excitedly pointed it out to some others who had also by now stopped to see what all the fuss was about. A rollicking good time was had by all, including me, I should confess.

Finally the moose decided it had enough of us humans and scampered away. So off we drove again.

This was the point at which our laidback trip got transformed into an adrenaline charged race against time. My husband finally realized how precariously close we were to missing our flight and decided that our ‘sub-compact’ rental vehicle could moonlight as a Formula One race car and stepped hard on the accelerator. We zipped through the road, only occasionally touching the ground.

We still might have made it to airport within time. But in a little while, we saw another small crowd on the side of the road. Predictably, I heard the dreaded words, ‘let’s check it out’. So we did.

It turned out to be a grizzly bear, big and fat and brown. Delightedly, we stood there and admired it, congratulating ourselves on our good fortune.

But there was the small matter of possibly missing our flight. So off we raced again, sending up a prayer not to encounter any cops. We got onto the airport road ofJackson Holeand made the last mad dash for the airport.

At this point, the husband declared, “We need to fill up on gas because the tank is less than one quarter full. Or the rental company is gonna charge us $3.15 additional for each gallon of gas’. I glared. ‘Are you kidding me? If we miss the flight, we’ll have to stay overnight and pay extra for the hotel rooms, and rebook flights tomorrow at very high prices, and be in the pleasant position of explaining why we did not show up at work’.  To my astonishment, for I’d expected some more argument, he agreed with my logic. So we went straight for the airport and I jumped off the vehicle and ran blindly to the check-in counter at exactly 19 minutes to 5PM.

Now if this had been my usual Southwest counter at Burbank Airport, it might still have been okay. But the lady at the check-in counter was determined to do her duty and that meant telling me to go to hell because we were simply too late.

By then the husband had hurried up, having returned the rental car. He turned on what he considered his charm and tried to sweet talk the lady, but she would not budge. Secretly I was rather pleased. This was going to be good for at least 5 years’ worth of ‘I Told Yous’. You see, I tend to be the absent minded one in the family and my husband is the careful, organized type. So something like this could give me and enormous amount of ammunition for future use, and even the inconvenience of rebooking flights and staying in Jackson Hole would be well worth it.

My husband wasn’t giving up so easily and went to find a supervisor. The guy came to the counter and told us that even if we had been a five minutes early, he could have helped, but now it was 11 minutes to 5 and simply too late and sorry and all that but we couldn’t check in. At which point we breathlessly pointed out that we had been very much there 5 minutes ago but the lady hadn’t let us check in so please, please, please, help us. Finally he relented and let us check in our bags and had us board the plane. It was a small airport so we got this done pretty fast.

At 4.53, we sank to our seats in relief, which in my case, was tempered with a little bit of regret that we hadn’t missed the flight after all, thereby depriving me of all that excellent ‘I told you so’ ammunition. Still, it was good to be going home as planned, and I promised myself that I would find other opportunities to gather ammunition.

At 5.05, the plane taxied out on the runway and started to take off. The husband, as always, hijacked the window seat and started clicking away, taking pictures of the wings of the plane during takeoff. He does that on every single flight, though as far as I can tell, all aircraft wings look the same. At last, once we were fully airborne and the plane had tucked in its wings, he shut his camera and put it away. Relaxing into his seat, he turned around and looked at me. ‘We got our money’s worth’ he said and smiled happily.

I submitted a version of this post for the Wanderlust and Lipstick Travel Writing Contest of 2011. 


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