Relaxing outside the airport, waiting for my ride to come, I knew I was back in Wyoming.
As I’ve mentioned before, the airport is located up on a plateau. It’s about a mile removed from the interstate. The road isn’t a winding, twisting path, but it rather cuts a long slow curve up a steadily increasing slope.
From that vintage point, I could once again look around and see mountains in every direction. I could see only one tree, however, located in what I believe to the property caregiver’s yard.
I was also soon greeted by the infamous Wyoming wind. For a brief time, the only sounds I could hear were the whistling wind and the flapping of flag.
Then the piece de resistance showed up. The two of us who were waiting outside soon picked up on the sound of an approaching vehicle. Seeing it wasn’t my ride, I leaned back to watch the other guy’s reaction.
He put out his cigarette and walked into the middle of the road. He pulled up his jeans to show some leg. He made a mock suggestive pose and stuck out his thumb. As the truck pulled alongside, the man quipped, “Picking up strangers today?” Tossing his bag in the bed of the truck, he climbed in and rode off, leaving me shaking my head at the scene.
Granted, this is not necessarily something that is exclusive to Wyoming, but the humor is similar to the fringe people I identify with the area.
I’m back in the West.
Giddy up.
