Me versus the deer

The day was divided evenly among Colorado and Wyoming.  Leaving Steamboat Springs, the scenery was perfection.  It was calming and expansive and the leaves had already started turning colors.  The realization that autumn was right here confounded me as I had spent the first two weeks of the trip with direct sunlight roasting my skin.  Lindsay and I stopped to take pictures at different places despite knowing we had nine hours of driving ahead of us.  “Where are we stopping tonight?” she asked.  I told her I had a couple places in mind, cities in Wyoming and South Dakota I had seen on the map that were within an hour or two of Mt. Rushmore, our destination for the morning.  “Wyoming, eh?” she said suspiciously.  Apparently Lindsay had read a story in which people from Wyoming were a little cold and inhospitable.  We laughed and brushed it off but as I looked around the vast spaces surrounding the road, that same description seemed to fit the landscape.  Its beauty was indisputable but there was a certain disconnect compared to the other places I’d driven through, giving it an almost creepy feeling.  It didn’t help that there were storms chasing us throughout the day, constant menacing skies stalking us but never really landing. 

Our spirits were lifted when we drove past a sign identifying the upcoming water.  Old Woman Creek.  As if that wasn’t pleasing enough, the creek was completely dried up. 

It was getting late and we decided to stop in a town about an hour from Mt. Rushmore.  Signs for Newcastle, Wyoming were few and far between but we were sure the lights in the distance had to be it.  It turns out that “lights in the distance” are always much further than they appear, especially if you’re exhausted and road-crazy.  There wasn’t a lot of anything around us including cars, so when I saw brake lights ahead, I slowed early and approached with caution.  I recognized this kind of dead-center stop as an animal crossing.  “There’s the deer,” I said authoritatively, not realizing that it was actually half a dozen deer camouflaged in the dusk.  I knew that the isolation would cater to many instances of deer-on-road interference but I had no idea the kind of brazen disregard the deer of Newcastle had for basic safety. 

There wasn’t a lot to the town of Newcastle.  The GPS told us there were seven hotels within a mile radius but we only saw a sign for one, the Fountain Inn.  The girl behind the counter had dyed red hair and cutoff shorts.  The quoted price seemed steep for the rustic paradise with the neon sign.  I made a joking comment to the teen hotel clerk.  No reaction.  “Anywhere nearby we could grab a pizza or something to eat?” I asked.  Her shoulders shrugged and she slowly nodded yes.  Then silence and I waited.  And then waited more.  “Uh… could you tell me about them?” I begged, staring quizzically at her blank expression. 

Eventually, we decided to price-check the other hotels in the area.  I pulled out of the parking lot slowly as another deer was standing directly where we were trying to go.  The town was eerily pitch black and none of the other hotels’ aesthetics warranted a trip inside, especially since it seemed possible they were just hotel-facades set up by zombies waiting to pounce once I walked through the door.  Resolving to head back to the Fountain Inn, I took a right turn up a hill and slammed immediately on the brakes.  ”Seriously deer?!” I yelled.  The four deer in the center of the road didn’t flinch at the sight of my car stopping dramatically to save their lives, instead glancing at me with disdain and then returning to their deer-business which only involved further standing in the road.  After collecting my breath, I slowly drove the car around the obstruction and began a lengthy rant on how it’s completely unreasonable for deer to overtake a town and refuse to acknowledge deadly, deer-crushing vehicles.  Lindsay seemed to agree although she could’ve been placating me as I’m sure she’s learned what the deer obviously have not – don’t antagonize a crazy, ranting woman driving a car. 

“Hey!  It’s me again,” I said to the emotionless redhead at the front desk.  The brooding teen handed me keys and told me that check-out was at 10am.  Perhaps that Wyoming hospitality thing wasn’t so far off.  We grabbed our stuff and approached the staircase to the second floor.  On the second or third step, Lindsay fell forward and about three steps later, I followed.  “What, are these joke steps?!” I yelled.  Finally, we made it safely to our room which had jutting concrete walls and a musky smell.  “This is the best hotel in town,” Lindsay said.  “Well we never made it inside the other ones,” I responded.  “No, there was actually an award from the Better Business Bureau in the lobby.”  I furrowed my brow as I looked around our unpleasant room.  I would spend half that night in the bathroom getting sick with something.  It was probably unrelated to the less-than-stellar room but there’s no evidence either way.  The next day we were able to verify that the concrete steps were in fact, wildly uneven.  I’m surprised there wasn’t a deer on one of them.