"What? What do you mean you're sending me to North Dakota? You can't be serious!" But they were. I was scheduled for a week of training in Bismarck and there was no getting out of it. I was headed for the middle of nowhere, and I was certain it was going to be the worst trip ever.
As if to confirm my fears, my flight plans took me from New York to Chicago, then to Denver (yes, it was a bit out of the way) before going on to Bismarck. And the arrival in Denver was more than a bit rocky. As we neared the airport for landing, dark clouds moved in with us. We were forced to circle as the captain informed us that we were being delayed due to downdrafts and microbursts. Great. This was all I needed. A tornado.
When we finally were able to land, I had missed my connection. Not to worry, they told me, I could sleep in the airport and catch a connection the next day. "Oh no," I argued. This was absolutely not an option. I would miss my training (and might have to do this whole horrific thing over again). I yelled. I pleaded. I needed to get to Bismarck ASAP! Finally, to my relief, they told me that they were able to get me on another flight leaving shortly. At last! Some respect.
My glory was short lived.
I knew something was wrong when I asked for a window seat. "Of course," the woman replied. "They're all window seats." That didn't really sink in until, when boarding, they led us into the basement of the airport. Now I just KNEW something bad was coming. When they led us out onto the tarmac I almost fell on the ground laughing. They were all window seats, all right! My two-and-a-half hour flight from Denver to Bismarck was in a seven seat, twin engine propeller plane! I bit my lip as I boarded. As my fellow passengers and I shuffled down the small aisle, the stewardess went over the basic safety procedures with us. She then pulled aside the curtain separating us from the cockpit, told us to feel free to come and get her if we needed anything, and took her seat in the co-pilot's chair.
Biting the lip has never been called an art form, but I beg to differ. And the biting was no problem. I had plenty of ice for it if I bit too hard. All I had to do was scrape the inside of my window to get a handful of it. One bit of airplane trivia it's COLD at thirty thousand feet! Apparently too cold for a prop plane like this one. The overwhelmingly loud noise of the engines obviously did not include any additional sound from a heating unit. So I vibrated, bit and shivered my way to Bismarck.
Later I would find out why we were forced to suffer this indignity. Apparently the landing strip of the airport in Bismarck is too short to accommodate anything larger. This fact is supported by the single terminal, and the automatic upgrade I received on my car rental from a compact to an SUV. Travel Tip all they rent in Bismarck are trucks.
But this is where my story changes. The truth is that even as I rubbed my hands together to get feeling back as we came in for our landing, I couldn't help but marvel at the sight below. Bright yellow sunflowers bowed to the sky as far as the eye could see. The landing strip at the airport was built into the middle of a giant field of what I found out is North Dakota's bumper crop. And what a sight they made.
The week, in spite of days filled by training, also included trips to local restaurants where I met some of the friendliest people I'd had the pleasure to meet. Evenings included things like taking the Lewis & Clark Riverboat ride on the Mississippi River as the sun went down. I had to admit, Bismarck was growing on me. When at the end of the week I was faced with a weekend on my own, I was actually pleased. I asked the people at the hotel desk what there was to do.
"Well if you're here through Sunday," the woman told me, "you just HAVE to go see the Medora musical." God bless her. If I knew her name, I'd send her a heartfelt thank-you card.
Picture, if you will, taking an escalator down the side of a hill to seats cut into the hill itself. At the bottom of this hill, a wooden stage is built on the open ground of the badlands. As sun sets and you wait for the show to start, the cowboys herd the Elk up the hill to one side. And then, as the sun goes down on the prairie, the show begins. I was treated to a comedy routine by "Two Norwegian Lutheran Ladies." I didn't understand some of it, but who cared? I was sitting on the side of a mountain overlooking the prairie. The musical was outstanding. I even listened to grown men yodeling and liked it. It was an experience like none I'd ever had.
The next morning I woke early and took my upgraded SUV on a driving tour of the Theodore Roosevelt National Park, which is just a few short miles from the site of the musical. During this drive I was treated to the sight of wild horses, bald eagles, coyotes, and of course hundreds of prairie dogs. But the most amazing sight of all were the herds of buffalo that roam the park. I parked the truck as herds of them walked past: mothers with babies, young males, and enormous old bulls. Let me tell you, there is nothing more impressive than a full grown male buffalo standing less than a foot from your car door while the window is down and you can hear him snorting and blowing. It's one of the most amazing experiences I've ever had the pleasure to have.
As I drove back to Bismarck and prepared to fly home, I realized that I'd been more than wrong. This had not been one of the worst trips of my life, but one of the best. I hated to leave. North Dakota had grown on me. The people, the flavor, the sights it was one of the most unexpected treasures I could have found.
One day I'll go back to Bismarck. I don't know if the trip will be any better, or if the airport has gotten any bigger, but I know I'll find one thing the same I'll find North Dakota right where I left it: in my heart.