2009-03-23
3/23/09
I live smack in the middle of two ski resorts. Groups of skiiers fly into the airport and are bussed to their condos for a week. There aren't any grocery stores near either of the resorts, so the busses stop in our little town for some shopping before taking them to the resort.
When I was doing my grocery shopping on Saturday, I noticed an abundance of people who were obviously from out of town. When I checked out, I told the girl at the register "You have a ski bus in here." The look of panic and dread on her face made me laugh out loud. As a rule, vacationers tend to leave their manners at home. Wealthy vacationers who can afford to fly here, rent a condo and ski for a week, often didn't have any manners to begin with.
When I was loading my groceries into my car, I glanced at the ski bus. The driver looked familiar, but I wasn't sure if I knew him. A man walked by, wearing a name tag (a sure sign of an out-of-towner) and I asked him if he was riding the bus. When he said "yes" I asked him what his driver's name was. He didn't know. I finished loading my car and drove over there.
Sure enough it was our friend Dennis. We've known him and his wife Katie since Shelby was 2. Two years after we moved here, they followed us from CA.
I jumped out of my car and gave him a huge hug. He whispered in my ear "That guy told me that a woman wanted to know my name. He offered to go back to you to tell you it. I guess he thought you thought I was HOT!" We laughed and got caught up for a few minutes until he had to leave.
It was so nice here, I wore shorts and a tank top both Saturday and Sunday. This morning when I let the dogs out, there is snow on the deck.
Montana's version of March Madness.