Ah, Yellowstone. Miles, miles, and more miles of breath-taking beauty. Wildflowers blooming in profusion amongst streams, lakes, and mountains. The "Wild West" at it's most fetching. While it lacks the enchantment of the Badlands, Yellowstone certainly lives up to all the hype. In a word, it is stunning.
Today we drove for four hours to reach Shoshone National Forest, which Mom was convinced was actually Yellowstone (partially understandable, since it really was gorgeous enough to be mistaken for it). Shoshone needs to be talked about more - it's glorious, pristine, and beckons to the eager traveler with all it's charms - purple coneflowers, yellow flax, rippling lakes of deep azure, butterflies galore, and even a few very musical rattlesnakes (they're neat to listen to...from a distance!).
Following Shoshone, we finally reached the highly lauded Yellowstone. I am so glad that I never went there as a child, because I was such a wretched little creature that I never would have appreciated it the way I can and do now. It was the deepest desire of my heart to see a bear today, but the perfidious beasts refused to make an appearance. The buffalo and elks were far more obliging, as we got to see enormous herds of buffalo (imagined how it must have felt to be a pioneer, gazing at herds of over a thousand!) and several very relaxed elk. I also had particular fun with a very friendly and fearless little chipmunk-like creature that wagged its tail at me like a little dog and almost stepped on my toe in an effort to see if I had anything in my fingers (I was kneeling on the ground, clicking my tongue at him and wiggling my fingers).
Just as we reached the hot springs at Mammoth, a huge thunderhead opened up and poured pellet-sized raindrops down on us. We sat in the car, munching our lunch of cheeseburgers, and watched in slight shock as the rain morphed into a brief hailstorm, and then back into a rainstorm. The sight of those foreboding, obsidian clouds looming over the mountains and bathing the trees in a gloomy mist is one that I shall not soon forget. Realizing that we were officially "rained out," we made our way back to the hotel (a nearly four-hour journey). On the way, I suddenly fell victim to a rare attack of car sickness, which I fortunately was able to catch in a bag. Our first visit to Yellowstone may not have ended well, but it was certainly worth it.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
"Don't Any Humans Live in Wyoming Anymore?" (Wyoming/Montana, Day 1)
This morning, as per Dad's necessity for arising at ungodly hours, we got up at 6:00 in the morning again. Ugh. I don't like my fellow human beings until at least 8:00! I feel downright convivial towards them after 9:30! No such luck with Dad. If he doesn't have me bleary-eyed and resembling a mottled corpse, he just isn't getting the most out of his vacation. Unfortunately, the lack of sufficient sleep meant that I started out the day with a near-migraine (a headache that caused me tremendous pain, but did not compromise my will to live).
We breakfasted one last time at Marlin's Roadhouse Grill (it warranted a second visit - it's just off I-90 in Rapid City, for anyone who's feeling interested), where I had a delectable western omelet that almost made me forgive Dad for rousting me out of a sound sleep, and thus inflicting a horrid headache on me. Following another gut-splittingly huge meal, we were off to Montana.
Getting to Billings from Rapid City requires a few hours of travel through Wyoming. Now, this initially made me happy, since I have a lifelong goal of seeing all fifty states. After some initial mental exclamations over the vast space and beauty of Wyoming (a headache like that one means that I make as little sound as possible), I eventually grew a bit bored. It was justifiable, after passing about one hundred miles of no trees or humans in sight. Wait, I take that back. I did see one tree - I photographed it out of sheer joy. It was not until some snow-covered mountains appeared in back of the landscape that Wyoming began to get interesting again.
We ate lunch at a rather dingy Subway, where the kid waiting on me (who couldn't be more than 16), flirted his little heart out with me. Now this really puzzles me: when I was 16, no 16-year-old boy on earth would have picked me over an earthworm. Now that I'm 25, I seem to be an absolute magnet for teenage boys and old men. This is further evidence that men are very strange creatures which I have no hope of ever understanding.
We got into Montana with little hassle, and continued on the arduous journey to Billings, which is in the official middle of nowhere. You pass hundreds of miles of absolutely no people and only a few dozen cows (similar to what I saw of Wyoming) and then BAM! Into the the city of Billings, which is crawling with people (much like any other city).
Since we were exhausted, we were delighted to find our hotel - AFTER the lengthy confusion resulting from the hotel listing an address that does not exist, as well as one which does exist, but which is one clearly designed to exasperate travelers (it's on south 25th street west, but Billings has not only a south 25th street west, but also a south 25th street, a west 25th street, and a 25th street west, all located in different areas). Our poor TomTom was probably considering either mutiny, or getting revenge on us by directing us to the middle of the Atlantic.
Tomorrow, we're off to Yellowstone at last! Fun fact - Did you know that Hollywood legend Gary Cooper originally worked as a Yellowstone guide, as well as an amateur cartoonist?
We breakfasted one last time at Marlin's Roadhouse Grill (it warranted a second visit - it's just off I-90 in Rapid City, for anyone who's feeling interested), where I had a delectable western omelet that almost made me forgive Dad for rousting me out of a sound sleep, and thus inflicting a horrid headache on me. Following another gut-splittingly huge meal, we were off to Montana.
Getting to Billings from Rapid City requires a few hours of travel through Wyoming. Now, this initially made me happy, since I have a lifelong goal of seeing all fifty states. After some initial mental exclamations over the vast space and beauty of Wyoming (a headache like that one means that I make as little sound as possible), I eventually grew a bit bored. It was justifiable, after passing about one hundred miles of no trees or humans in sight. Wait, I take that back. I did see one tree - I photographed it out of sheer joy. It was not until some snow-covered mountains appeared in back of the landscape that Wyoming began to get interesting again.
We ate lunch at a rather dingy Subway, where the kid waiting on me (who couldn't be more than 16), flirted his little heart out with me. Now this really puzzles me: when I was 16, no 16-year-old boy on earth would have picked me over an earthworm. Now that I'm 25, I seem to be an absolute magnet for teenage boys and old men. This is further evidence that men are very strange creatures which I have no hope of ever understanding.
We got into Montana with little hassle, and continued on the arduous journey to Billings, which is in the official middle of nowhere. You pass hundreds of miles of absolutely no people and only a few dozen cows (similar to what I saw of Wyoming) and then BAM! Into the the city of Billings, which is crawling with people (much like any other city).
Since we were exhausted, we were delighted to find our hotel - AFTER the lengthy confusion resulting from the hotel listing an address that does not exist, as well as one which does exist, but which is one clearly designed to exasperate travelers (it's on south 25th street west, but Billings has not only a south 25th street west, but also a south 25th street, a west 25th street, and a 25th street west, all located in different areas). Our poor TomTom was probably considering either mutiny, or getting revenge on us by directing us to the middle of the Atlantic.
Tomorrow, we're off to Yellowstone at last! Fun fact - Did you know that Hollywood legend Gary Cooper originally worked as a Yellowstone guide, as well as an amateur cartoonist?
"So That's Why They Call It the Badlands!" (South Dakota, final day)
Sunday, August 2. Approximately 6:00 AM.
After finally breaking down the night before and taking a sleeping pill (sleeping with one's mother is not conducive to a good night's sleep, especially when said mother insists on sleeping on THE side of the bed that one is accustomed to), our heroine, Stephanie, spent an interesting night having hallucinations (in which she saw people who definitely were not there) and very odd dreams. She is finally sound asleep, when a merciless man insists on heartlessly awakening her. Sure she'll be groggy and partially incoherent for the next several hours, but at least her father can have the satisfaction of seeing America first before the sun gets a chance to. Her father is incapable of enjoying a vacation unless he rouses everyone at such early hours every day that they require a vacation just to recover from vacation!
Later that morning
After a gut-splittingly huge and incredibly delicious breakfast at Marlin's Roadhouse Grill (highly recommended for all travelers), young adventuress Stephanie and her not-quite-as-adventurous-as-her-though-certainly-more-adventurous-than-most-people-their-age parents set off on a quest. They seek Wall Drug, a massive tourist trap in Wall, which baits travelers with at least one hundred miles of large signs advertising its enticements. For those unfamiliar with this particular modern marvel, Wall Drug is a ginormous store selling nearly everything. It features a huge collection of interesting old photographs on many of the walls, stretches longer than a flea market, and has lots of statues of buffalo, jackalopes, etc. After a few hours, the Thompsons leave, fulfilled and slightly poorer financially (Stephanie's dog, Jasper, will be a very happy little boy when his "mommy" gets home and gives him his lovely present from South Dakota).
Following the visit to Wall Drug, the family is off to (cue appropriate musical intro) the Badlands. The name conjures in Stephanie's mind a harsh, unforgiving stark landscape of dried, parched earth with steam rising from it and lots of skulls strewn about. This image is hard to reconcile with the surrounding landscape of green prairie, but it's what the name suggests. The name misleads.
"So that's why they call it the Badlands!" Stephanie's mother exclaims as the currently-lush prairie dramatically and suddenly gives way to an almost-alien landscape of harsh cliffs rising and falling from the earth in startling triangular shapes. It is as though they have entered another world - one of silent harshness that somehow molds into unspeakable beauty. To the farmers who came west dreaming of becoming ranchers, this landscape must have seemed hostile and disappointing - certainly it would be a poor place to hope for anything, be it plant or creature, to grow. On the other hand, it seems unfair to label any place so strikingly stunning and so flawlessly colored - as though by a celestial paintbrush - "the Badlands." So many other names could do far better justice to this rose-hued panorama!
The family spends hours in awe, taking photographs and staring, at times speechless with wonder. It is as though the Badlands has them under a mystic spell. Stephanie, of course, can and must climb, ignoring the pain in her previously-injured knees. Her parents restrain her from hiking to her heart's content however. No matter. Someday, before more than two or three years have passed, our heroine will return to this transcendental painting-come-to-life. And once more, it shall hold her under its enchantment.
After finally breaking down the night before and taking a sleeping pill (sleeping with one's mother is not conducive to a good night's sleep, especially when said mother insists on sleeping on THE side of the bed that one is accustomed to), our heroine, Stephanie, spent an interesting night having hallucinations (in which she saw people who definitely were not there) and very odd dreams. She is finally sound asleep, when a merciless man insists on heartlessly awakening her. Sure she'll be groggy and partially incoherent for the next several hours, but at least her father can have the satisfaction of seeing America first before the sun gets a chance to. Her father is incapable of enjoying a vacation unless he rouses everyone at such early hours every day that they require a vacation just to recover from vacation!
Later that morning
After a gut-splittingly huge and incredibly delicious breakfast at Marlin's Roadhouse Grill (highly recommended for all travelers), young adventuress Stephanie and her not-quite-as-adventurous-as-her-though-certainly-more-adventurous-than-most-people-their-age parents set off on a quest. They seek Wall Drug, a massive tourist trap in Wall, which baits travelers with at least one hundred miles of large signs advertising its enticements. For those unfamiliar with this particular modern marvel, Wall Drug is a ginormous store selling nearly everything. It features a huge collection of interesting old photographs on many of the walls, stretches longer than a flea market, and has lots of statues of buffalo, jackalopes, etc. After a few hours, the Thompsons leave, fulfilled and slightly poorer financially (Stephanie's dog, Jasper, will be a very happy little boy when his "mommy" gets home and gives him his lovely present from South Dakota).
Following the visit to Wall Drug, the family is off to (cue appropriate musical intro) the Badlands. The name conjures in Stephanie's mind a harsh, unforgiving stark landscape of dried, parched earth with steam rising from it and lots of skulls strewn about. This image is hard to reconcile with the surrounding landscape of green prairie, but it's what the name suggests. The name misleads.
"So that's why they call it the Badlands!" Stephanie's mother exclaims as the currently-lush prairie dramatically and suddenly gives way to an almost-alien landscape of harsh cliffs rising and falling from the earth in startling triangular shapes. It is as though they have entered another world - one of silent harshness that somehow molds into unspeakable beauty. To the farmers who came west dreaming of becoming ranchers, this landscape must have seemed hostile and disappointing - certainly it would be a poor place to hope for anything, be it plant or creature, to grow. On the other hand, it seems unfair to label any place so strikingly stunning and so flawlessly colored - as though by a celestial paintbrush - "the Badlands." So many other names could do far better justice to this rose-hued panorama!
The family spends hours in awe, taking photographs and staring, at times speechless with wonder. It is as though the Badlands has them under a mystic spell. Stephanie, of course, can and must climb, ignoring the pain in her previously-injured knees. Her parents restrain her from hiking to her heart's content however. No matter. Someday, before more than two or three years have passed, our heroine will return to this transcendental painting-come-to-life. And once more, it shall hold her under its enchantment.
Spelunking Amidst Jewels (South Dakota, Day 4)
On Saturday, I was nearly wriggling with excitement as the three of us piled into the car. At last, I was to see and explore the famous Jewel Cave! The second-longest cave in the world, Jewel Cave is currently over 146 miles long, and is still being further explored. Inside are incredible rock and mineral formations, which give the cave its name.
On my suggestion, we had purchased tickets (you have to get them in advance if you want to get in, as tour groups are small and the cave is very popular) for the "Lantern Tour." This tour is a 1936-stylized tour in which guests get to spend nearly two hours inside the cave, using oil lanterns to light their way. I figured this would be a unique way in which to view the cave, and certainly an experience that we would be unable to find elsewhere. Boy was I right!
Our tour had only one thing that made it less than a marvelous experience: the tour guide. The Parks Service has done their usual bang-up job in preserving and maintaining the area - it really is a great place. The visitors center, as is usually the case at places like this, is well-done and informative. The other employees of the Parks Service that we ran across were the usual friendly and welcoming people that I have come to expect at sites such as these. Sadly, our guide seems to be the fly in the ointment.
To start off, the fellow came across as a cold fish - he never once came within binocular-viewing distance of a smile. His voice was inarticulate and resembled primeval grunting better suited to a Hollywood version of the Stone Age. He constantly tripped up on dates and basic facts concerning the cave. When it came to either history or science, this young man was clearly way out of his element. Honestly, I am disappointed in the Parks Service for letting an individual like this give tours - he is far better suited to work in an environment in which he will have little or no human contact.
As far as the cave went, it was awesome. And terrifying. We climbed down and up 716 cringingly-narrow steps over the course of our expedition, and it is only by the grace of God that a klutz such as me came out alive. The one time that I tripped, I was fortunate enough to fall forward after a top step and land on my (previously-injured) knees on solid rock. No complaints here; I'm just glad that I didn't have a far more spectacular and deadly fall! I held onto every possible railing so tightly that future scientists will have the privilege of studying my finger indentations!
The rock formations in the cave were such as I have never seen. Some resembled enormous kernels of popcorn, while others looked remarkably like huge snakes or mythical creatures. In the near-darkness, it was hard to see most of the "jewels" that give the cave its name, but I did occasionally glimpse some spectacular crystals. Overall, I rate the cave as highly worth seeing (and the price is hard to beat, too).
Following the cave, we took a long scenic drive through Custer State Park, which we had read would be teaming with rampant wildlife. Apparently, every moveable creature, including the insects, are currently on summer holiday from the park, most likely in an effort to escape the thousands of motorcyclists who have swarmed South Dakota for the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally. Oh, well. At least I got to see a cool cave.
On my suggestion, we had purchased tickets (you have to get them in advance if you want to get in, as tour groups are small and the cave is very popular) for the "Lantern Tour." This tour is a 1936-stylized tour in which guests get to spend nearly two hours inside the cave, using oil lanterns to light their way. I figured this would be a unique way in which to view the cave, and certainly an experience that we would be unable to find elsewhere. Boy was I right!
Our tour had only one thing that made it less than a marvelous experience: the tour guide. The Parks Service has done their usual bang-up job in preserving and maintaining the area - it really is a great place. The visitors center, as is usually the case at places like this, is well-done and informative. The other employees of the Parks Service that we ran across were the usual friendly and welcoming people that I have come to expect at sites such as these. Sadly, our guide seems to be the fly in the ointment.
To start off, the fellow came across as a cold fish - he never once came within binocular-viewing distance of a smile. His voice was inarticulate and resembled primeval grunting better suited to a Hollywood version of the Stone Age. He constantly tripped up on dates and basic facts concerning the cave. When it came to either history or science, this young man was clearly way out of his element. Honestly, I am disappointed in the Parks Service for letting an individual like this give tours - he is far better suited to work in an environment in which he will have little or no human contact.
As far as the cave went, it was awesome. And terrifying. We climbed down and up 716 cringingly-narrow steps over the course of our expedition, and it is only by the grace of God that a klutz such as me came out alive. The one time that I tripped, I was fortunate enough to fall forward after a top step and land on my (previously-injured) knees on solid rock. No complaints here; I'm just glad that I didn't have a far more spectacular and deadly fall! I held onto every possible railing so tightly that future scientists will have the privilege of studying my finger indentations!
The rock formations in the cave were such as I have never seen. Some resembled enormous kernels of popcorn, while others looked remarkably like huge snakes or mythical creatures. In the near-darkness, it was hard to see most of the "jewels" that give the cave its name, but I did occasionally glimpse some spectacular crystals. Overall, I rate the cave as highly worth seeing (and the price is hard to beat, too).
Following the cave, we took a long scenic drive through Custer State Park, which we had read would be teaming with rampant wildlife. Apparently, every moveable creature, including the insects, are currently on summer holiday from the park, most likely in an effort to escape the thousands of motorcyclists who have swarmed South Dakota for the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally. Oh, well. At least I got to see a cool cave.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Calamity Stephanie (South Dakota, Day 3)
Today we drove out to Deadwood, once famous as the most lawless, immoral city in the USA. It was also once the home of Calamity Jane and Wild Bill Hickock, two colorful characters about whom I have often enjoyed studying. (And of course, I have spent many happy hours watching the films "Calamity Jane" and "The Plainsman" over and over and over...)
To begin our visit to that famous, or rather, infamous, city, we started out at the Days of '76 Museum, which I had read very little about in the numerous South Dakota tourism literature that I have perused on and prior to this trip. In fact, the only reason I wanted to visit was because I had heard that they currently possess the original Deadwood Stage (stagecoach), and I wanted to see that. I had no warning that we were about to enter one of the best museums I have ever had the privilege of exploring.
The Days of '76 Museum runs on donations, not admission, which automatically endears me to any museum or historic site. I believe that history belongs to the people, as they are the progenitors and authors of it, and thus it is unfair, even unethical, to charge exorbitant prices to view it. Certainly it takes money to run and maintain a site, but I believe that this money should be earned through the donations of grateful visitors and through gift shop sales. It pains and irritates me when I am unable to share in the wealth of knowledge that a museum or historical site has to offer, merely because the price tag on such an experience is too costly for a poor little schoolteacher. Okay, soapbox over!
As I said, this museum had the laudable trait of accepting donations rather than admission fees. Now again, I was not expecting anything spectacular yet, as none of the tourism literature had had much to say on this particular museum. Well, the literature needs to be rewritten. South Dakota is housing yet another hidden gem, and that gem is the Days of '76 Museum!
We first viewed the fifty-three coaches/wagons/phaetons in the museums possession, many of which have been beautifully restored. An endearingly sweet and knowledgeable older gentleman conducted the three of us through the entire museum, telling us far more than we could have otherwise learned. Following the wagons and such, we moved on to room after room, all filled to the brim with pioneer, Native American, and military paraphernalia. It was an astounding collection that would certainly have the Smithsonian drooling eagerly, had they any idea of the riches held in those rooms. Upon learning that I am a teacher, our excellent guide gave me some extra tidbits of information to color my lectures with, and then followed that up by giving me a piece of sinew to show to my students (sinew comes from a tendon on the back of a buffalo, and was used by the Native Americans as thread).
After such a treasure of a museum, the rest of Deadwood was rather disappointing. History is overcrowded by casinos and saloons in Deadwood. Although these industries helped found the town in the past, it is sad to see these vices now crowding out the chance to really see and experience history. So much could be done with that town, and so much isn't.
The Adam's museum, which we visited next, is another museum filled with treasures. However, it paled when compared to the Days of '76 Museum, so I would advise other visitors to see the Adam's Museum first, so as to enjoy it more. It houses an excellent collection which taught not only Deadwood's history, but also history of American westward expansion. Unfortunately, the layout is not chronological, and comes across as just a jumbled collection of items with some traits in common. There really is little obvious purpose or message in the way or order in the exhibits are assembled and displayed. By placing numbers by each item, and then having books in which the visitors must look up the numbers if they wish to know about the item, the museum is limiting how much visitors can and will learn. I really hope that someday soon one or more of the curators wakes up to this fact. Being a self-guided museum does nothing to help the confusing layout.
Following the Adam's Museum, we went to Mount Moriah Cemetery, where both Calamity Jane and Wild Bill Hickock are buried, side by side (as per Calamity Jane's dying request). This attractive cemetery boasts stunning views of the South Dakota countryside. Sadly for klutzes like me, however, it also boasts extremely steep paths and roads. On the way down from the steep hike up to the grave of Seth Bullock (the justifiably celebrated first sheriff of Deadwood and a close friend of Teddy Roosevelt), my right ankle twisted around, and down I fell! I landed with full force on my knees, which did not appreciate their introduction to the gravel-covered asphalt. As a result of my collision with the ground, I now have a twisted and swollen ankle, two skinned-up knees, and a skinned hand as souvenirs. The unfortunate klutz lives on!
Tomorrow, regardless of my physical pain (which is considerable at the moment), I will be journeying to Jewel Cave with my parents. I am looking forward to a 1930's style lantern tour, although my excitement is somewhat dampened by the knowledge that, with my luck, I'll most likely leave with further painful "souvenirs."
To begin our visit to that famous, or rather, infamous, city, we started out at the Days of '76 Museum, which I had read very little about in the numerous South Dakota tourism literature that I have perused on and prior to this trip. In fact, the only reason I wanted to visit was because I had heard that they currently possess the original Deadwood Stage (stagecoach), and I wanted to see that. I had no warning that we were about to enter one of the best museums I have ever had the privilege of exploring.
The Days of '76 Museum runs on donations, not admission, which automatically endears me to any museum or historic site. I believe that history belongs to the people, as they are the progenitors and authors of it, and thus it is unfair, even unethical, to charge exorbitant prices to view it. Certainly it takes money to run and maintain a site, but I believe that this money should be earned through the donations of grateful visitors and through gift shop sales. It pains and irritates me when I am unable to share in the wealth of knowledge that a museum or historical site has to offer, merely because the price tag on such an experience is too costly for a poor little schoolteacher. Okay, soapbox over!
As I said, this museum had the laudable trait of accepting donations rather than admission fees. Now again, I was not expecting anything spectacular yet, as none of the tourism literature had had much to say on this particular museum. Well, the literature needs to be rewritten. South Dakota is housing yet another hidden gem, and that gem is the Days of '76 Museum!
We first viewed the fifty-three coaches/wagons/phaetons in the museums possession, many of which have been beautifully restored. An endearingly sweet and knowledgeable older gentleman conducted the three of us through the entire museum, telling us far more than we could have otherwise learned. Following the wagons and such, we moved on to room after room, all filled to the brim with pioneer, Native American, and military paraphernalia. It was an astounding collection that would certainly have the Smithsonian drooling eagerly, had they any idea of the riches held in those rooms. Upon learning that I am a teacher, our excellent guide gave me some extra tidbits of information to color my lectures with, and then followed that up by giving me a piece of sinew to show to my students (sinew comes from a tendon on the back of a buffalo, and was used by the Native Americans as thread).
After such a treasure of a museum, the rest of Deadwood was rather disappointing. History is overcrowded by casinos and saloons in Deadwood. Although these industries helped found the town in the past, it is sad to see these vices now crowding out the chance to really see and experience history. So much could be done with that town, and so much isn't.
The Adam's museum, which we visited next, is another museum filled with treasures. However, it paled when compared to the Days of '76 Museum, so I would advise other visitors to see the Adam's Museum first, so as to enjoy it more. It houses an excellent collection which taught not only Deadwood's history, but also history of American westward expansion. Unfortunately, the layout is not chronological, and comes across as just a jumbled collection of items with some traits in common. There really is little obvious purpose or message in the way or order in the exhibits are assembled and displayed. By placing numbers by each item, and then having books in which the visitors must look up the numbers if they wish to know about the item, the museum is limiting how much visitors can and will learn. I really hope that someday soon one or more of the curators wakes up to this fact. Being a self-guided museum does nothing to help the confusing layout.
Following the Adam's Museum, we went to Mount Moriah Cemetery, where both Calamity Jane and Wild Bill Hickock are buried, side by side (as per Calamity Jane's dying request). This attractive cemetery boasts stunning views of the South Dakota countryside. Sadly for klutzes like me, however, it also boasts extremely steep paths and roads. On the way down from the steep hike up to the grave of Seth Bullock (the justifiably celebrated first sheriff of Deadwood and a close friend of Teddy Roosevelt), my right ankle twisted around, and down I fell! I landed with full force on my knees, which did not appreciate their introduction to the gravel-covered asphalt. As a result of my collision with the ground, I now have a twisted and swollen ankle, two skinned-up knees, and a skinned hand as souvenirs. The unfortunate klutz lives on!
Tomorrow, regardless of my physical pain (which is considerable at the moment), I will be journeying to Jewel Cave with my parents. I am looking forward to a 1930's style lantern tour, although my excitement is somewhat dampened by the knowledge that, with my luck, I'll most likely leave with further painful "souvenirs."
Friday, July 31, 2009
Dances with Wranglers (South Dakota, Day 2)
Today the great state of South Dakota yielded up even more delights for us. We started out our day with a trek up to a place I have wanted to visit ever since I was a little girl. Yup, Mount Rushmore!
In pictures, Mount Rushmore always looks colossal, with the four presidential heads (George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Theodore Roosevelt, and Abraham Lincoln, respectively) completely dominating the Black Hills landscape. In real life, Mount Rushmore is much smaller than I expected. It still was amazing to see, though, and I certainly commend the National Parks Service for the fine job they have done in keeping the place up so well, and keeping costs down (there is no admission cost, only a $10 parking fee good for multiple days). One thing that stood out particularly to me (actually, I have thought of this many times over the years), is the fact that Calvin Coolidge was President when they began the project, and agreed to federal funding for it, but he never tried to make his own face one of those carved into the mountain. If they were to carve Mount Rushmore today, you can bet the current president would certainly make sure his mug was up there (that's not an Obama dig - I believe any recent or future President would be that way). Coolidge had class!
Immediately after Mount Rushmore, we made the very appropriate decision to go to the Crazy Horse monument. It's not finished yet, but it still put Rushmore in the dust! All that is completed so far is Crazy Horse's head and part of his arm, and the rest will probably not be completed in my lifetime. It is a beautiful, momentous tribute to Native American history, and it's abut time, too. In addition to the work-in-progress monument being carved into a mountain, there is also a fantastic Indian museum there, which took up a considerable amount of our time. It was almost as impressive as the Smithsonian's Museum of the American Indian in Washington, DC. There were also numerous Native American artisans displaying and selling their beautiful work. Most impressive is the fact that Crazy Horse is being created entirely without federal help - all the funds have been raised through admissions, the gift shop, and donations.
In the evening, we stopped off at Fort Hays, which houses some of the sets used in the film "Dances with Wolves." It wasn't terribly impressive, but it made a nice diversion while we were waiting for dinner. For that important meal, we ate at the Flying T, which has a chuck-wagon dinner followed by a musical show. I couldn't believe how tender and juicy my roast buffalo was (I have plans to eat as much buffalo as possible while I'm out west, since I have yet to find any back east). The show was great. Local musicians The Wranglers entertained us with a rollicking blend of cowboy music and comedy. Nearly everyone (including me, horrid singing voice notwithstanding) joined in when they sang "The Battle of New Orleans," and I was beyond delighted to hear them perform "Tumbling Tumbleweeds," one of my favorite old cowboy songs (yes, I occasionally indulge in a bit of Roy Rogers or Gene Autry).
Tomorrow we're off to Deadwood. I can't wait to visit the same place where Wild Bill Hickock and Calamity Jane one strutted with their weapons proudly cocked. So far, I think South Dakota is one of the most under-rated states in the USA!
In pictures, Mount Rushmore always looks colossal, with the four presidential heads (George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Theodore Roosevelt, and Abraham Lincoln, respectively) completely dominating the Black Hills landscape. In real life, Mount Rushmore is much smaller than I expected. It still was amazing to see, though, and I certainly commend the National Parks Service for the fine job they have done in keeping the place up so well, and keeping costs down (there is no admission cost, only a $10 parking fee good for multiple days). One thing that stood out particularly to me (actually, I have thought of this many times over the years), is the fact that Calvin Coolidge was President when they began the project, and agreed to federal funding for it, but he never tried to make his own face one of those carved into the mountain. If they were to carve Mount Rushmore today, you can bet the current president would certainly make sure his mug was up there (that's not an Obama dig - I believe any recent or future President would be that way). Coolidge had class!
Immediately after Mount Rushmore, we made the very appropriate decision to go to the Crazy Horse monument. It's not finished yet, but it still put Rushmore in the dust! All that is completed so far is Crazy Horse's head and part of his arm, and the rest will probably not be completed in my lifetime. It is a beautiful, momentous tribute to Native American history, and it's abut time, too. In addition to the work-in-progress monument being carved into a mountain, there is also a fantastic Indian museum there, which took up a considerable amount of our time. It was almost as impressive as the Smithsonian's Museum of the American Indian in Washington, DC. There were also numerous Native American artisans displaying and selling their beautiful work. Most impressive is the fact that Crazy Horse is being created entirely without federal help - all the funds have been raised through admissions, the gift shop, and donations.
In the evening, we stopped off at Fort Hays, which houses some of the sets used in the film "Dances with Wolves." It wasn't terribly impressive, but it made a nice diversion while we were waiting for dinner. For that important meal, we ate at the Flying T, which has a chuck-wagon dinner followed by a musical show. I couldn't believe how tender and juicy my roast buffalo was (I have plans to eat as much buffalo as possible while I'm out west, since I have yet to find any back east). The show was great. Local musicians The Wranglers entertained us with a rollicking blend of cowboy music and comedy. Nearly everyone (including me, horrid singing voice notwithstanding) joined in when they sang "The Battle of New Orleans," and I was beyond delighted to hear them perform "Tumbling Tumbleweeds," one of my favorite old cowboy songs (yes, I occasionally indulge in a bit of Roy Rogers or Gene Autry).
Tomorrow we're off to Deadwood. I can't wait to visit the same place where Wild Bill Hickock and Calamity Jane one strutted with their weapons proudly cocked. So far, I think South Dakota is one of the most under-rated states in the USA!
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Buffalo, Gold, and Bears, Oh My! (South Dakota, Day 1)
Technically this is day two in South Dakota, but since Mom and I got here in the evening yesterday, the only thing we did was go out to Perkins for dinner (their broccoli cheese soup gets major props from me!) and then go to bed. So, I'm considering today to be day one.
For those who are feeling a little lost, I am currently on my long-awaited "Wild West" vacation. Mom, Dad, and I are spending one week in South Dakota followed by one week in Montana. It all started last year when I mentioned to Dad over the phone (I was in Korea) my longtime dream of visiting Yellowstone, and suggested that he and Mom join me for a vacation out there in 2010. One week later, Dad called to inform me that he had booked a vacation out there...for July/August of 2009! He thought we should spend two weeks in Montana, but since I like to see as much as possible when I travel, and since I have always wanted to visit Deadwood and Mount Rushmore, I suggested one week in Montana and one week in South Dakota. It's been a little hectic for me to plan around this, since I am moving to VA the day after we get back to MI and then starting work the day after that. Still, I am really glad that we decided to do this.
Mom and I flew out here, and Dad opted to drive (saves the trouble of renting a vehicle). The flights for Mom and I were a little crazy - Kalamazoo to Detroit, Detroit to Minneapolis, then Minneapolis to Rapid City - with very short layovers between flights. With my knack for timing, I was on day three of a migraine when we left, and the pain and nausea got steadily worse as time went on. By the time we got here, I was one sick, over-medicated girl! Bed and my special chiropractic pillow (Dad brought it with him so I wouldn't have to lug it on planes) have seldom looked so good!
Today I felt much better, thank goodness! We got an early start, since South Dakota has a two-hour time difference from what we're used to. Dad had spotted an advertisement for a place called Bear Country USA, and it sounded good to all of us, so that was our first stop.
Bear Country is not cheap, but anyone who comes to South Dakota should be sure to go - it is well worth the money. We drove through a huge wildlife area, where we were able to get super close to elk, mountain goats, arctic wolves, bighorn sheep, pumas, buffalo, and more bears than I have ever seen. The animals were completely relaxed, and seemed to view the cars as toys put there for their amusement. One of my favorite sights was a white buffalo. I have heard of them, but until now I had never had the chance to see one. Following the drive, we parked and went to Babyland, wish is basically like a cute little zoo filled with almost painfully cute baby animals. For us, the best exhibit was the baby bears. They were roly-poly furry dumplings who played, wrestled, and hammed it up for the cameras. (I will be posting pictures after I get moved in to my apartment in Manassas and have unpacked my camera cord).
Following Bear Country, we went to the Thunder Mine, where we took a fascinating tour into the mine. I got some great photos, which I am looking forward to using in class. We followed the mine with a tasty lunch in Keystone, which included buffalo stew (delicious). After lunch, we toured the area for a while longer, and then drove back to Rapid City, where we went to the Geology Museum. The museum has an excellent collection of rocks, minerals, gemstones, and fossils. History museums are still by far my favorites, but I really do enjoy looking at different rocks and gemstones. The dinosaur skeletons were mind-bogglingly large. Every time that I see one in a museum, I find myself very grateful that they are extinct. I mean, can you imagine going swimming and then running into one of those ginormous creatures that resemble a water-dragon? Or taking the dog for a walk and getting chased by a T Rex?
For those who are feeling a little lost, I am currently on my long-awaited "Wild West" vacation. Mom, Dad, and I are spending one week in South Dakota followed by one week in Montana. It all started last year when I mentioned to Dad over the phone (I was in Korea) my longtime dream of visiting Yellowstone, and suggested that he and Mom join me for a vacation out there in 2010. One week later, Dad called to inform me that he had booked a vacation out there...for July/August of 2009! He thought we should spend two weeks in Montana, but since I like to see as much as possible when I travel, and since I have always wanted to visit Deadwood and Mount Rushmore, I suggested one week in Montana and one week in South Dakota. It's been a little hectic for me to plan around this, since I am moving to VA the day after we get back to MI and then starting work the day after that. Still, I am really glad that we decided to do this.
Mom and I flew out here, and Dad opted to drive (saves the trouble of renting a vehicle). The flights for Mom and I were a little crazy - Kalamazoo to Detroit, Detroit to Minneapolis, then Minneapolis to Rapid City - with very short layovers between flights. With my knack for timing, I was on day three of a migraine when we left, and the pain and nausea got steadily worse as time went on. By the time we got here, I was one sick, over-medicated girl! Bed and my special chiropractic pillow (Dad brought it with him so I wouldn't have to lug it on planes) have seldom looked so good!
Today I felt much better, thank goodness! We got an early start, since South Dakota has a two-hour time difference from what we're used to. Dad had spotted an advertisement for a place called Bear Country USA, and it sounded good to all of us, so that was our first stop.
Bear Country is not cheap, but anyone who comes to South Dakota should be sure to go - it is well worth the money. We drove through a huge wildlife area, where we were able to get super close to elk, mountain goats, arctic wolves, bighorn sheep, pumas, buffalo, and more bears than I have ever seen. The animals were completely relaxed, and seemed to view the cars as toys put there for their amusement. One of my favorite sights was a white buffalo. I have heard of them, but until now I had never had the chance to see one. Following the drive, we parked and went to Babyland, wish is basically like a cute little zoo filled with almost painfully cute baby animals. For us, the best exhibit was the baby bears. They were roly-poly furry dumplings who played, wrestled, and hammed it up for the cameras. (I will be posting pictures after I get moved in to my apartment in Manassas and have unpacked my camera cord).
Following Bear Country, we went to the Thunder Mine, where we took a fascinating tour into the mine. I got some great photos, which I am looking forward to using in class. We followed the mine with a tasty lunch in Keystone, which included buffalo stew (delicious). After lunch, we toured the area for a while longer, and then drove back to Rapid City, where we went to the Geology Museum. The museum has an excellent collection of rocks, minerals, gemstones, and fossils. History museums are still by far my favorites, but I really do enjoy looking at different rocks and gemstones. The dinosaur skeletons were mind-bogglingly large. Every time that I see one in a museum, I find myself very grateful that they are extinct. I mean, can you imagine going swimming and then running into one of those ginormous creatures that resemble a water-dragon? Or taking the dog for a walk and getting chased by a T Rex?
The New Apartment
Below is a floor plan and a video tour of my new apartment, still in its "before" stage. After I move in, I'll try to post photos to show what I've done with the place.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Hurray, I Don't Have to Sleep in My Classroom!
That's right, folks, Stephanie is officially freed from the short sale and is now in proud possession of a stunningly gorgeous apartment. It has a sunroom, a huge walk-in closet in the bedroom, a fantastic spacious kitchen, a HUGE bathroom (for an apartment), and wonderfully large windows. The apartment complex is gated, which really pleases me. Security is a very happy thing! There is also a swimming pool, fitness center, and media room for my enjoyment. Jasper will love it when he learns that we are close to several parks and a battlefield.
Not only did I get my new apartment today; I also found a good credit union (for my personal feelings on banks, feel free to read a few earlier posts). As I always manage to, I met a very interesting new person today, too - the manager at my new credit union. She's a very sweet gal from Uzbekistan, which makes her the second person I've met from there - interestingly, I so far like 100% of the Uzbeks that I have met! Either it's a country full of neat, lovely people, or I've just had the luck of running across the cream of the crop so far.
Dad and I finished off our busy day with driving out to Woodbridge to finish getting out of the short sale, and to make another sacred pilgrimage to that mecca of furniture stores, IKEA. I picked out the last remaining items of furniture that my apartment needs, and since I take possession tomorrow officially, I can leave it right here to be waiting for me when I get back on the 12th of August. I can hardly wait for the big move!
Not only did I get my new apartment today; I also found a good credit union (for my personal feelings on banks, feel free to read a few earlier posts). As I always manage to, I met a very interesting new person today, too - the manager at my new credit union. She's a very sweet gal from Uzbekistan, which makes her the second person I've met from there - interestingly, I so far like 100% of the Uzbeks that I have met! Either it's a country full of neat, lovely people, or I've just had the luck of running across the cream of the crop so far.
Dad and I finished off our busy day with driving out to Woodbridge to finish getting out of the short sale, and to make another sacred pilgrimage to that mecca of furniture stores, IKEA. I picked out the last remaining items of furniture that my apartment needs, and since I take possession tomorrow officially, I can leave it right here to be waiting for me when I get back on the 12th of August. I can hardly wait for the big move!
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Life with Father
My dad is a very interesting man. He gets upset if you buy a medium beverage instead of a large, since, according to him, large is always a better deal (even though I waste half of a large beverage). He used to drive up to twenty miles out of his way just to "save" one or two cents per gallon on gas. He loves to yell at the TV whenever he feels that a referee has made a bad call, or if he thinks a player needs his wise advice. He insists that corn raises his blood sugar too much (he's a diabetic), yet will eat two pieces of frosting-covered cake at a wedding. He's arthritic, yet lies on his belly on the floor to play with Mitzi, his seven-pound malti-tzu (who used to be mine, until I went to Korea). His love of peanuts nearly rivals his love for my mother (okay, I'm exaggerating a little on this one).
On a vacation or a short trip, my father is even more interesting. He refuses to buy a single ice cream for everyone on vacation, instead opting to buy multiple boxes of ice cream treats, then harasses everyone for not eating enough (the last time he did that, he got upset with Mom and me for not being able to each eat six ice cream bars). He positively delights in arguing with or ignoring whomever is acting as his navigator when he drives (if you tell him to go left, he turns right). His idea of relaxation is beating the sun out of bed, and he finds endless joy in trying to make everyone else relax in the exact same manner.
So, since my father is on this short trip to Virginia with me, you can probably imagine how "interesting" it has been so far. Dad recently bought a Tom Tom (GPS) to help him navigate. He's as excited as a small child about his new toy! My sister set it up for him, carefully selecting the voice that most closely resembled an annoyed, menopausal woman in order to help him pay attention to the Tom Tom's directions better. After today, I can assure all that he treats the Tom Tom almost like a human navigator. Yup, he still doesn't listen!
We had a brief detour in Maryland because Dad didn't believe the Tom Tom and I when we both assured him that he needed to turn right on a particular exit. When the two of us told Dad to go south at another exit, he tried to go north (picture me screaming "No Dad, south, SOUTH, SOUTH!!!"). At another point in the trip, he neglected to notice that there were two left turn lanes, almost turned directly into a minivan with my new car, and then spent the next twelve miles arguing with me, claiming that there was only one turn lane and that the other guy was 100% at fault.
Believe it or not, Dad and I actually had quite a nice drive down, despite his creative interpretations of simple instructions. I enjoy spending time with him, even when he doesn't listen. We spent most of the ten hour drive discussing country music performers (I started learning about them in an effort to bond with him years ago), John Wayne (ditto), aging, Mom, cars, and plans for the future. We had a good time, and I remembered why I miss him every time I move away. In spite of Dad's selective hearing, we made it safely to Manassas, where we are now comfortably ensconced in a hotel room. Dad is entranced by his softball game on the TV, and I'm content with Mackie (my MacBook).
Tomorrow, the hunt for my new apartment begins. On one hand, I'm excited beyond belief. On the other hand, I'm a little wistful, knowing that I'm going to miss seeing that eccentric, "interesting" father of mine every day.
On a vacation or a short trip, my father is even more interesting. He refuses to buy a single ice cream for everyone on vacation, instead opting to buy multiple boxes of ice cream treats, then harasses everyone for not eating enough (the last time he did that, he got upset with Mom and me for not being able to each eat six ice cream bars). He positively delights in arguing with or ignoring whomever is acting as his navigator when he drives (if you tell him to go left, he turns right). His idea of relaxation is beating the sun out of bed, and he finds endless joy in trying to make everyone else relax in the exact same manner.
So, since my father is on this short trip to Virginia with me, you can probably imagine how "interesting" it has been so far. Dad recently bought a Tom Tom (GPS) to help him navigate. He's as excited as a small child about his new toy! My sister set it up for him, carefully selecting the voice that most closely resembled an annoyed, menopausal woman in order to help him pay attention to the Tom Tom's directions better. After today, I can assure all that he treats the Tom Tom almost like a human navigator. Yup, he still doesn't listen!
We had a brief detour in Maryland because Dad didn't believe the Tom Tom and I when we both assured him that he needed to turn right on a particular exit. When the two of us told Dad to go south at another exit, he tried to go north (picture me screaming "No Dad, south, SOUTH, SOUTH!!!"). At another point in the trip, he neglected to notice that there were two left turn lanes, almost turned directly into a minivan with my new car, and then spent the next twelve miles arguing with me, claiming that there was only one turn lane and that the other guy was 100% at fault.
Believe it or not, Dad and I actually had quite a nice drive down, despite his creative interpretations of simple instructions. I enjoy spending time with him, even when he doesn't listen. We spent most of the ten hour drive discussing country music performers (I started learning about them in an effort to bond with him years ago), John Wayne (ditto), aging, Mom, cars, and plans for the future. We had a good time, and I remembered why I miss him every time I move away. In spite of Dad's selective hearing, we made it safely to Manassas, where we are now comfortably ensconced in a hotel room. Dad is entranced by his softball game on the TV, and I'm content with Mackie (my MacBook).
Tomorrow, the hunt for my new apartment begins. On one hand, I'm excited beyond belief. On the other hand, I'm a little wistful, knowing that I'm going to miss seeing that eccentric, "interesting" father of mine every day.
Monday, July 20, 2009
"On the Road Again..."
Today I am off to Virginia in search of a home. Doesn't that sound so sad and pathetic? It's like a film. You know, they really should make a movie of my life. At the moment, it is closely resembling a 1930's screwball comedy! Or perhaps a tragedy. I guess it's all a matter of perspective. I'm choosing to be amused, since laughter suits my temperament better than weeping and gnashing of teeth.
Dad offered to come with me, and since that means a reprieve from driving, I accepted his offer. We're leaving this morning, spending Tuesday and Wednesday looking at apartments, and then I'll make my decision on Wednesday after the last appointment, after which we'll shove off for Michigan again. I feel so much less stressed, even though I really shouldn't feel any less stressed. That's the difference made by once more being in control of a situation.
Dad offered to come with me, and since that means a reprieve from driving, I accepted his offer. We're leaving this morning, spending Tuesday and Wednesday looking at apartments, and then I'll make my decision on Wednesday after the last appointment, after which we'll shove off for Michigan again. I feel so much less stressed, even though I really shouldn't feel any less stressed. That's the difference made by once more being in control of a situation.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Stress Seems to Like Me Lately...
I've been up late plotting, and I think I have finally worked out a solution. As my readers are now aware, I have decided to back out of the sale, since the bank is apparently run by people with the work ethic of Paris Hilton. Which means, that I am now put in the unenviable (but definitely humorous-someday-in-the-future) situation of having to move in less than a month, with no place to live. I start work on the 13th of August, regardless of my housing situation.
Tonight I had an inspiration. Dad's solution was to stay in a hotel for my first eight days while looking for an apartment AND working full time. I just don't think that's a viable plan, especially since by the time I get out of work, most leasing offices will be closed or close to closing. My plan is a bit nutty, but doable. I have decided to spend all day Monday calling apartment complexes, which I am doing advance research on online. Then, after picking the best ones, I'll drive down to Virginia on Tuesday, and either stay with my friend in Maryland or with friend's of my friend who lives in Virginia. I'll spend about two or three days seeing all the apartments, then make my decision, apply, and pay the deposit. When I move down on the 12th (I'm on vacation out west for the two weeks prior to that), I'll move in to my apartment. I won't have furniture, since it will be coming down with Dad later, but that's fine. I have a very nice new sleeping bag and an air mattress (actually, two of them). I can camp out! It'll be another adventure that I can relate when I get together with friends.
The advantages to my plan are that I will not be out hundreds of dollars for a hotel, I will be able to go on vacation without housing stress hanging over my head, and I can be certain of finding a place to move into by the correct date. If I wait, I may find myself stuck in a hotel for as long as a month! Yuck!
I've said it before, but really, it just begs to be said once more: WHY DO THESE THINGS ALWAYS HAPPEN TO ME?!
Tonight I had an inspiration. Dad's solution was to stay in a hotel for my first eight days while looking for an apartment AND working full time. I just don't think that's a viable plan, especially since by the time I get out of work, most leasing offices will be closed or close to closing. My plan is a bit nutty, but doable. I have decided to spend all day Monday calling apartment complexes, which I am doing advance research on online. Then, after picking the best ones, I'll drive down to Virginia on Tuesday, and either stay with my friend in Maryland or with friend's of my friend who lives in Virginia. I'll spend about two or three days seeing all the apartments, then make my decision, apply, and pay the deposit. When I move down on the 12th (I'm on vacation out west for the two weeks prior to that), I'll move in to my apartment. I won't have furniture, since it will be coming down with Dad later, but that's fine. I have a very nice new sleeping bag and an air mattress (actually, two of them). I can camp out! It'll be another adventure that I can relate when I get together with friends.
The advantages to my plan are that I will not be out hundreds of dollars for a hotel, I will be able to go on vacation without housing stress hanging over my head, and I can be certain of finding a place to move into by the correct date. If I wait, I may find myself stuck in a hotel for as long as a month! Yuck!
I've said it before, but really, it just begs to be said once more: WHY DO THESE THINGS ALWAYS HAPPEN TO ME?!
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Living Arrangement Frustration
I decided last night that if I do not have an answer from the bank this coming week, I will withdraw my offer. The bank has behaved in a manner that I find ridiculous, unethical, and just plain rotten. It is no longer worth the battle to become a homeowner. I refuse to spend the next month or more living out of a hotel (which I cannot afford) while clinging to the desperate hope that someday the almighty bank will condescend to give me a yes or a no.
So, instead of moving into a new house before starting work, and having the fun of fixing it up to my specifications, I am going to spend my first week of work in a hotel, desperately hunting down an apartment. No more hope of equity, no financial security for my future. Thank you, bank, for screwing up my dream.
Don't get my wrong - apartments aren't horrendous. I've lived in a few now, and I really don't have a laundry list of complaints. It could be a lot worse. At least this way I don't have to keep hanging on waiting to hear yes or no. I just hope this bank remembers the way they've treated people like me once they bury themselves deeply in unnecessary debt and crash hopelessly underneath it all, with little hope of resurrection. What goes around comes around...it just takes a while sometimes.
So, instead of moving into a new house before starting work, and having the fun of fixing it up to my specifications, I am going to spend my first week of work in a hotel, desperately hunting down an apartment. No more hope of equity, no financial security for my future. Thank you, bank, for screwing up my dream.
Don't get my wrong - apartments aren't horrendous. I've lived in a few now, and I really don't have a laundry list of complaints. It could be a lot worse. At least this way I don't have to keep hanging on waiting to hear yes or no. I just hope this bank remembers the way they've treated people like me once they bury themselves deeply in unnecessary debt and crash hopelessly underneath it all, with little hope of resurrection. What goes around comes around...it just takes a while sometimes.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Surrounded by Inept Idiots
I really marvel at how it took the banks until now to screw things up again. After all, they are clearly being run by people with the intellectual capacity of amoebas. Why am I so peeved at banks at the moment?
1. I closed an account at Bank of America a few months before leaving for Korea. After they mailed my money to the wrong address, I had to call again to cancel that check, give them my information (which they discovered that they already had) again, and reiterate that I wanted the account permanently closed. When I got back from Korea, I learned that they left the account open with fourteen cents in it and wanted to charge me over a year's worth of maintenance fees and overdraft charges. Needless to say, I will never bank with them again.
2. I put in an offer on a house in Virginia three months ago, and still the bank hasn't gotten around to accepting or rejecting the offer. If they foreclose on the current owners, the bank will spend $60,000, and will not be able to sell for as much as I'm willing to pay. They're hurting themselves, but they apparently have money to burn.
3. I went to my current bank, National City, a month ago to change my won to American dollars. They cheerfully offered me an exchange rate that would have cheated me out of over $1,000. The happy teller also informed me that they would need to charge a fee for this service. I opted to hold onto my won a little longer.
4. I opened an account at Comerica just to be able to change over my won. This was the second week of June. I was told that the money would post to my account in seven to fourteen business days. I checked online again today and called the bank. Guess what - it still hasn't posted. Oh, and since they haven't posted my money, they only have to wait another week and they can start charging me maintenance fees (which is probably their nefarious plot). There's another bank I won't be using again.
I'd like to go spit on Alexander Hamilton's grave right now!
1. I closed an account at Bank of America a few months before leaving for Korea. After they mailed my money to the wrong address, I had to call again to cancel that check, give them my information (which they discovered that they already had) again, and reiterate that I wanted the account permanently closed. When I got back from Korea, I learned that they left the account open with fourteen cents in it and wanted to charge me over a year's worth of maintenance fees and overdraft charges. Needless to say, I will never bank with them again.
2. I put in an offer on a house in Virginia three months ago, and still the bank hasn't gotten around to accepting or rejecting the offer. If they foreclose on the current owners, the bank will spend $60,000, and will not be able to sell for as much as I'm willing to pay. They're hurting themselves, but they apparently have money to burn.
3. I went to my current bank, National City, a month ago to change my won to American dollars. They cheerfully offered me an exchange rate that would have cheated me out of over $1,000. The happy teller also informed me that they would need to charge a fee for this service. I opted to hold onto my won a little longer.
4. I opened an account at Comerica just to be able to change over my won. This was the second week of June. I was told that the money would post to my account in seven to fourteen business days. I checked online again today and called the bank. Guess what - it still hasn't posted. Oh, and since they haven't posted my money, they only have to wait another week and they can start charging me maintenance fees (which is probably their nefarious plot). There's another bank I won't be using again.
I'd like to go spit on Alexander Hamilton's grave right now!
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