Elk, X, and Wyoming…

Posted on April 28, 2010


In my post earlier I neglected to write about some of the more eventful parts of my drive last night through Wyoming. So I thought I’d mention these few facts about last night so as to warn you if you are ever driving through Wyoming on your way to some better geographical location.

1. Beware the Elk. In Tennessee there are no Elk. If you don’t know what an Elk is, it’s like a deer on steroids. Last night I was driving on 80 West and turned my head down to switch a song on the stereo. I look up and instantly I’m confronted by a veritable behemoth. Using my lighting quick reflexes– graciously provided by McDonald’s $1 menu– I swerved and missed the antlered titan in front of me, by inches. For the next two miles I shook like Christina Ricci in Black Snake Moan, praying that I hadn’t sufficiently pissed off said Elk into chasing me. I don’t think my poor car could have outrun this thing!

2. Beware of “guardian angels” that try to help you in abandoned gas station parking lots. About an hour after I was practically killed I looked down to see my gas tank on empty, and being that I was in the middle of Wyoming at night, on a highway I’d only seen a few people on all night, I knew I was in trouble. I pulled off an exit and quickly realized that my beacon of hope had been an illusion. Alas I was destined to cry myself to sleep in the parking lot of what looked to be the gas station from The Shining. Then I saw lights. A truck pulled in and a hobbit like man jumped out.

“Sir… Sir… Is there an open gas station anywhere near here?” I asked timidly.

“Um… Yeah actually. 24 miles down the road.” He eyed me the way Kirstie Alley eyes bacon drippings, but I had to get directions.

“Are you sure there isn’t another one? I’m on E and don’t know if I’ll make it 24 miles.” Honestly I felt like my mom. I have always made fun of her for not keeping an eye on the gas needle, and now it was me who had been less than aware.

“I’ll follow you down there just in case.”

“Thanks!” Had I misjudged this man, this greasy saint, this guardian angel?

Twenty five minutes later we are parked at yet another closed gas station. I’m looking at the man hoping he doesn’t try to knock me out and steal my car.

“You look tired.” He says.

“I am tired.” I say.

“I’ve got just the thing!” He then reaches into his car and pulls out the oddest looking pill bottle I’ve ever seen. He opens the lid, pops one in his mouth and then hands one to me.

“What is it?” I ask, eyeing the pill in my palm.

“Something to help you stay awake.” He smiles.

We both end up driving two miles further down the road and parting ways, but as I was paying, the woman behind the counter asks me if the guy had talked to me and when I showed her  the pill she started laughing.

“That’s ecstasy!” She’s bright red and laughing herself into a toothless stupor. I toss the pill into the garbage and walk outside to pump my gas.


Looking back, part of me wonders if the Elk was a magical Elk. Had the Elk shape-shifted into a truck driving helper, only to poison me with X? More often than not I’m able to read people, but not that man, be he Elk or human. The moral of the story is NEVER go to Wyoming!

Posted in: blogging, Confession