The Misadventures of J. and Beau - Day 1: Tubin'

This past weekend was our big "First Anniversary Celebration." We've both been pretty excited about it -- for like, forever. It was the first time since March we've both been off from all of our jobs for an entire weekend. It felt like a real goddamn vacation.

We had planned for awhile to go to what I like to call one of "Beau's Special Places." Besides growing up in Montana, Beau has been returning here for the past 25 years, and has camped, fished and boated in all sorts of various lakes, rivers, and streams. I was excited too. Though I am a city girl, I do love isolation (as long as it's not like, endless), and love to be near bodies of water. I was also eager to try fly fishing again. And of course, when you love someone, you're also eager to share in all their special memories and learn of their special places. So, Beau picked out the place -- Howard Lake -- and we formed a plan.

Late Thursday I was to go to Shop-n-Smile and pick up my paycheck - our weekend's entire cash flow. This was due to the fact that our previous paychecks paid for rent and the slew of bills all due around the first of the month. Early Friday morning, we would head out north, cash in hand, car packed up. I called up Shop-n-Smile just to confirm I could do this, and they said sure. But a few hours later, I got a call:

SnS: Hey J., um, because of the 4th of July, UPS won't be delivering our paychecks on time; you can't pick it up until Friday at noon.
J.: Uhhhh
SnS: Here...*reads apologetic letter from UPS*
J.: Fuck.

So, now what? We needed that money for the trip, but didn't want to waste one whole day of our three days, especially since we had quite a road trip before us. Milking the credit cards was not a good option since we were just getting those back on track. So, we got the idea instead to use Friday as tubing day! As the book says, in Missoula, a river runs through it, and as one friend told me, the route is "a beautiful 2 1/2 hour trip!" Nice!

Of course, this just happened to be the record-breaking heat day of all time for Montana. That Friday it would reach 107 degrees. Let me say that again, one hundred and seven degrees! IN FUCKING MONTANA! Due to this, we thought it best if we went later in the day. Right now, the sun doesn't go down until about 10pm, which gives you lots of time for day activities you may have to wrap up earlier in other locales. After we ran 10,000 errands in the oppressive heat, including purchasing two enormous inner tubes, sans air, we headed back home where we collapsed in crumpled, sweaty heaps. It wasn't long before I conked out, Beau first asking me when I wanted to wake up. "When do you want to go tubing?" I asked. "Whenever," was his answer. "Okay fine, wake me up at 5:30pm and we'll go."

This is something stupid about me that I can't seem to learn about living with Beau. 5:30pm to me, means waking up, shaking off sleep, re-pig-tailing my hair, and setting off immediately. 5:30pm to Beau means, continue drinking coffee, continue watching the news, washing those last few dishes, changing his clothes, putting on his shoes (this seems to take about 10-15 minutes), looking around for his car keys, sitting back down at the table to watch some more TV, changing the channel, washing his face, finding his wallet, etc.

Furthermore, I cannot ignore the role of Civ IV in this diabolical situation. Just like me when I'm home alone, Beau likes to have his current game of Civ IV on the computer. The difference between us is our abilities to GET UP and walk away from the game at a needed time. Beau finds this excruciatingly difficult. "Just let me finish off the Germans!" he'll exclaim. I try to be patient with this, because I know how unsettling it can be when there's just...that one....city left to capture. But with Beau, his video form of genocide can take many turns, until I'm contemplating finishing him off myself. And for those who have played Civ, you know that "just three more turns" can turn out to be thirty more minutes, easy.

In the meantime, I am going through an array of negative emotions from ansiness to aggravation to aggression, until I want to pound him over the head with a sledgehammer and drag his molasses-ass downstairs to the car.

I said that I TRY to be patient. I do not always succeed.

Let's just say that by the time our two cars were parked at the gas station and we were s.l.o.w.l.y filling up our ginormous tubes, it was 7:00pm. Beau says it was in part my fault. "You were crabby, so I let you fall back asleep." This is true, but I think he also fails to see how this is not really a good defense on his part.

By 7:30pm we had parked one car at the end point and were just parking another car at the start point, which was in a small parking lot in Lolo, a city 14 miles from Missoula (the one Brad Pitt's character kept gambling and getting the shit kicked out of him in the movie). The lot was just steps from the river, and within a ritzy neighborhood. I can imagine that the residents are just thrilled to have a bunch of screaming, drunken teenagers carousing through their streets every weekend, but by this time of the day, it was just us -- two old dorks.

We were somewhat alarmed to see a sign in the small parking lot announcing that the gate would be locked, (imprisoning our car), at 10:00pm. Doing quick math, with the 2 1/2 hour trip promised by my co-worker, and the 7:30pm start time, we were cutting it mighty close! "Well, I doubt whomever closes the gate is all THAT efficient. He probably won't be here at 10pm sharp! You'll see!" I said with great optimism. We sort of hemmed and hawed for a moment, but neither one wanting to waste the whole day, we set off.

Sure enough, the river was almost bare. There was one small group of people, but otherwise the river was open and inviting. We got in, and after that initial shock of cold faded away, we were off! Well, sort of. Tubing is rarely a swift exercise.

We floated along for awhile, enjoying the ride. There must have been a dozen different birds capering around, from tiny little swallows to a regal bald eagle (spotted by Beau, naturally). We even saw three enormous blue herons at different points, each one screeching in angry protest and taking flight at our presence.

Yet, as we floated along, I couldn't QUITE get to what is the ENTIRE point of tubing - simple relaxation. I would relax for awhile, we'd chat, we'd look at the scenery, which was beautiful, but in the back of my mind I would be thinking, "Can we get to the bridge before it gets dark? What if our car is locked up tonight? I guess we could get it in the morning. STILL."

I'm normally not such a worry wart, but floating down a shallow river in total darkness with all sorts of wild creatures nearby - Hey, there ARE bears! - is daunting. We continued to float - what else are ya gonna do? And it was beautiful, and it was enjoyable, and... we were comical. At different points when we seemed overtaken with doubt, we would slip through the center of the tube, land on the river bottom and commence intense aerobic activity, doing our best to run-walk-jog-trudge through the water. It felt a little foolish, but it's hard to be patient in a meandering river.

*slosh slosh slosh*

Then dusk hit. Besides the reminder of the oncoming night, it also welcomed an onslaught of insects. Particularly, mosquitoes. And if you know me, and my miserable history with the buggers in Thailand (i.e. daily coverings in red welts and my contracting dengue fever at one point), you know I am NOT a fan. If I could perform some kind of spell to instantly rid the world of this blight, I would. Perhaps in our fragile ecosystem they have a purpose - but I know not what it is - and for whatever reason, I seem to be a favorite of theirs. Many a time in Thailand I would be in a room full of people and once the mosquitoes hit, I would end up dotted with painful bites, while most others would remain untouched. It was maddening. The Thais often singsonged, "You have sweet blood, J., sweet blood!" Damn my sweet blood!

Anyway, that went on for about 20 minutes, and after several bites, blessedly lessened. But now the day was descending, and my fears ascending. Beau's too. By now, thankfully, we had started to see signs of civilization on the left side of the river, and some fancy homes on the right. We couldn't be THAT far, but how could you know? The bridge being our end point, it became a game of: "I bet the bridge is right around the next bend!" It was a game we would lose over and over again as it got darker and darker. Fearing being caught in the river too late, we dog paddled and waded to the bank, where we climbed up its super steepness, literally grabbing plants and pulling up, until we reached the top, where Beau with his assuredness, stomped through the scratchy grass, which thwhapped back to sting my bare legs. I didn't even care. I was in worry-mode now, which doesn't feel pain. Well, much pain.

We reached the railroad tracks which paralleled the highway (which the bridge was on). Somewhat of a good sign. Looking ahead in the dim light, we still could not make out the bridge. "How far can it be?" Beau wondered. With nothing else to do, Beau wearing his tube like a giant lei and me like a Miss America sash, and both of us dripping wet, we started off down the tracks. As we walked, both of us jammed our fingers into our tubes' valves in hopes of releasing air before having to put the sizeable things in our non-sizeable Honda. We walked quietly except for the continuous Sssssssssssssssss coming from our tubes, making our own Bizarro World version of Stand By Me. *squish ssssssssss squish ssssssssss*

At one point on the right was a large field with four beautiful horses: two greyish-white, one solid black, and a beautiful "buckskin" of light tan color and a darker mane. "They're going to shit themselves when they get a load of us," said Beau knowingly as we plodded and sssss'd by. They didn't quite have a case of the poopy pants, but they sure seemed surprised by our strange presence. And slowly, after a couple minutes of staring in disbelief, they began to follow us. The curiosity must have just been killing them. I found it touching. But I find just about everything touching. As a former horse breeder, Beau was indifferent. "They're still coming! They're so cute!" I'd exclaim in glee. "Mmhmm," Beau would reply.

And there in the darkness, we finally saw the bridge. Of course, now we had to cross the highway, another daunting task, especially encumbered with enormous inner tubes (the letting out of air had not been terribly successful). We did one of those dumb things where one person shouts, "GO GO GO NOW!" and the other person, because of their split second of hesitation, starts screaming, "NO NO NO! WAIT! DON'T GO!" Guess who was who. ;) We finally did make a mad-ass dash across though, and safe and sound, shuffled exhaustedly to the car. After smashing our tubes into the Honda's tiny trunk and back seat, we took off BACK toward Lolo in hopes of rescuing the Jesus car. And luckily, as I'd predicted (hoped), the gates were still open at 10:30pm when we arrived. So much for the 2 1/2 hour float.

And with that, Beau drove the Jesus car, I drove the Honda, and after picking up a delicious pizza, we drove home in relief.