Friday, September 1, 2017

Landing in Montana

1975, late September, I flew out on the plane from Rhode Island to Belgrade International Airport, twelve miles from my destination, Montana State University in Bozeman.  I had one suitcase and two cardboard boxes.  In one box was my bicycle and the other contained various necessary items.  I was in proper travel attire: full-length skirt and blouse.  I believed I was sophisticated.  I knew not!

I was initially greeted by a large sculpture of a big bird made of huge hammered nails.  An eagle is not a friendly beast.

I parked myself out on the drive in front of the airport.  I sat on my suitcase and wondered when the public transport would loop around.  It would not.  However, a kind-hearted woman about the age my mother would have been, if I still had one, asked me if I needed a ride to town.  I jumped on her offer  and climbed into her station wagon.  She tossed my suitcase and boxes into the car as though they were bales of air.  She brought me directly to my dormitory, which was complete with cowboys lassoing bulls' heads hanging out of dorm windows.

I thanked her profusely for the ride.  She invited me to come visit her at Big Sky and told me her name was Tippy Huntley.  

While I immersed myself in my studies of medieval literature, Montana history, and the Beat generation, I thought of riding my bicycle out to Big Sky to visit Mrs. Huntley.  The snows came.  My bicycle and me were grounded.  There was no public transportation.

RDB
6-18-2017