Montana: Part I - Back Roads and Racism
When I started my drive to the great state of Montana I had no clue what to expect. I knew the state was aesthetically beautiful and that was about it. I didn’t realize that my 5 days in Montana would show me some of the weirdest people I’ve ever encountered. On September 22, 2010 I left Omaha, Nebraska for Red Lodge, Montana. It was a 15 hour drive and showed me areas of the country I had never seen such as South Dakota, Wyoming, and finally Montana. On my drive I stopped in Wall Drug, South Dakota and had dinner at a local diner. During my meal I was shown some good old fashioned racism as the 2 construction workers sitting next to the window ridiculed the poor Korean server who could barely speak English. As I watched the 2 men berate the poor Asian man a few thoughts struck my mind: First and foremost, how the hell did an Asian immigrant find his way to Wall Drug, South Dakota? The man could have chosen any major city in this country like Chicago, New York, or Los Angeles, yet he chose to relocate in some white trash town in the middle of South Dakota. That would be like me deciding to move to China and relocating in some farm town, and not moving to like Beijing, Shanghai, or Hong Kong. Anyway, I moved beyond this person’s dumbass decision and was struck by how the guy who looked like Seabass from Dumb and Dumber and his friend found it so amusing that this guy couldn’t understand English. They thought it was the funniest thing ever when the Korean brought them a Bud Lite when they actually ordered a Budweiser. They were hooting and hollering at this kid about the beer and than the dishwasher came from the back and also threw in his 2 cents about the Kim Jong Il looking server. So, I decided to get back on the road for what would soon be the drive from hell.
The worst part about driving to a place like Red Lodge, Montana is that you are forced to take back roads and state highways. There are no major interstates that go to this small town so I was forced to use a one lane state freeway. This would not have been too bad, except it started to rain, the side roads were full of deer and elk, and than it became foggy as hell. Making matters worse, my phone service was completely gone and I was running low on gas with no civilization in near site. I was literally in the middle of nowhere and now had an extreme fear that I was either going to hit a large animal or get hit by a large semi-truck, or even raped in the fetal position. My GPS was also failing me at this time, so Google and my other GPS systems can both eat a dick. Thankfully I found a gas station in Broadus, Montana or as I call it, “Shithole town where I better not get raped at 12 AM filling up my gas,” Anyway, I filled up my gas and after about 200 miles on state highways I finally found my way back to a national interstate on the I-90 and drove to Billings, Montana for the night. After paying $100 for some overpriced piece of shit room I took out my aggression by jerking off all over the hotel room and abruptly crashing to sleep.
Part II: Introduction to Brad the Retard
On Thursday September 23, 2010 I finally arrived at Rock Creek Resort located in Red Lodge, Montana. I can truly say that Red Lodge, Montana is absolutely gorgeous. It’s located in the mountains and is only 60 miles away from Yellow Stone National Park. The green landscape, wooded mountains and flowing creek make it a great place. However, the locals of Red Lodge are some of the weirdest bastards I’ve ever met in my life. My first encounter with locals was at the Rock Creek Resort. When I checked into the resort the asshole sporting the hooded sweat-shirt was one of the biggest pricks I’ve ever met in my life. I refuse to say one thing nice about this douche bag and I hope, no I pray that he gets mauled and eaten to death by a grizzle bear. Anyway, after getting settled in out honeymoon suite with no shower, and only a Jacuzzi bath tub, my friends and I decided to head into town to meet everyone in the wedding for drinks. Our cab driver whom drove us into town was wearing a t-shirt, sweat pants, and sneakers. He had long black hair in a ponytail and he sported a rapist mustache. This guy looked like he was playing a serial killer in a horror film. We were are all convinced he was inbred or just a regular meth user, or maybe even both. He claimed he was a recovering alcoholic, but I’m still convinced he has numerous dead bodies in a freezer in his basement.
So, we arrived at downtown Red Lodge and drank our asses off. Nothing important to note until we left the bar and ventured across the street to the now infamous Snow Creek Saloon. Snow Creek Saloon is full of Red Lodge locals, many of whom look like David Spade’s character in the movie Joe Dirt. When I walked up to the bar to order a drink I couldn’t believe my eyes when I turned to my right and saw a man with full blown down syndrome nursing a Jack Daniels and Coke. I was pretty intoxicated at the time so I wasn’t sure if I was drunk or if I was really watching a mentally handicapped man boozing at the bar. I grabbed my friends and we all laughed and watched in horror as this man continued to slam drink after drink. Never in my life have I ever seen someone with down syndrome drinking at the bar, so I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or call the police. Making things more interesting, the retarded guy, whom I learned later was named Brad, left the bar with 2 other men and drove off into the night. I swear on my life that the guy with down syndrome drove off into the Montana night with 2 non-retarded guys after Brad the Retard had been drinking. Since I was drunk at the time my mind could not fully comprehend the ridiculousness of this event. Yet, little did I know that 2 days later there would be another sighting of Brad the Retard.
Part III: The Wedding, Urine Filled Subway, and Death Highway
The next day everyone was hung-over and we somehow managed to forget we had witnessed a retarded man not only drinking at the bar, but also driving off into the night. We went for a hike up a mountain to help sweat out the beer. This was a horrible idea because I was huffing and puffing since I haven’t done any exercise in the last 5 weeks and also because at any given moment a bear could attack and kill my puny ass. Anyway, when we came home from the walk the creepy housekeeping lady was in our room. This witch of a woman is also a staple weirdo at Rock Creek Resort. She is absolutely off her rocker. She has a very high pitched weird voice and always laughs with a cackle after every sentence. She is just another example of the local weirdoes’ roaming Red Lodge, Montana. We all went to the wedding, which was normal except for the weird priest who said things which make you think, “what the fuck is in the water in Red Lodge, Montana?” The wedding reception was a blast and everyone was wasted because the beer was double the normal alcohol and the resort failed to let anyone know this important fact. My friend who got married had a sibling that had some very free hands around my friends from high school. To my knowledge he groped 3 girls I know from high school. That doesn’t include the cup check he gave me when I arrived at the ceremony or the old woman he cock slapped during a slow dance. Also, my male friends from high school and I got very drunk, but the best part of the night occurred when I decided to piss in my friend’s foot long Tuna Salad sandwich from Subway. For some reason I was mad about his sub still being in our refrigerator so I unrolled the sub in the bathroom, gently took off the top piece of bread, and pissed in his sandwich. Then I placed the bread back on the sub, rolled up the sandwich, and placed it back in the bag and put the sandwich back in the refrigerator. Essentially my goal was to have my friend eat my pissed filled Subway the next day when I went to Yellow Stone National Park. I wish I could have taped this stunt because it’s like something you see on the movie Jack Ass.
The next day I ventured to Yellow Stone National Park with 3 girls I know from high school. Besides the great idea of rolling 3 chicks deep into the Park, I had to leave my fart smelled room. When I awoke the morning after the wedding our hotel room smelled like a mixture of ass and smelly feet. Anytime you have 4 drunken passed out men in one room it’s bound to create a foul stench. I was extremely excited to see the wild life of Yellowstone, but was unprepared for the Bear Tooth Highway aka “Death Highway.” This highway is about 10-15,000 feet high and it’s the curviest thing I’ve ever driven. Not too mention it’s full of cliffs and edges, many of which do not have guard rails. I’m pretty sure Brad the Retard designed this highway because it’s about as safe as raw dogging a hooker in a Brooklyn alley way. I was too scared to look to the right or left because the visual drop off alone could make a grown man cry. After 3 hours of driving a mere 66 miles we finally arrived at Yellow Stone National Park. My goals at Yellow Stone were to see bears fucking, humans getting attacked by animals, or a 4 some with the 3 chicks in my car while bears fucked and Asians were attacked by buffalo. Sadly none of these things happened and the only animals I saw were herds of buffalo. Yet, it was still a great experience that was only heightened when we stopped in a small town near the park and our server was another serial killer. After visiting Montana I’m now convinced that every serial killer comes from Montana. They have so many weird, creepy people in that state. If I lived in the middle of the mountains I would surely resort to killing people and eating their bodies in my basement. Anyway, we made it back safely thru another tour of the Death Highway for our last night in Red Lodge, Montana. Little did I know that it would be an epic night which would mark the return of “Brad the Retard.”
Part IV: Brad the Retard Strikes Again !
Since it was our last night in Red Lodge, Montana we headed back to the mentally unstable capital of the world: Snow Creek Saloon. Unlike the others in my group I was hell bent on destroying my liver with booze, because I couldn’t bear a night sober with the numerous weirdoes surrounding the bar. Our last night in town was the most bizarre night of the trip. The Snow Creek Saloon had a pirate theme, so the workers, band, and some bar patrons were dressed as pirates. Complicating matters was the fact that a bus load of Rocky Mountain College (They probably offers degrees in Addition/Subtraction) students poured into the Snow Creek Saloon for an annual Toga Party. Between the mixture of people in toga outfits, pirate costumes, and serial killer/child molester looking locals, the bar had an interesting to feel to say the least. Also, my friend and I were being stalked by some weirdo chick. She was actually kind of cute, and totally bangable, except for the fact that she also seemed to have a case of the downs. I’m now convinced that everyone from Red lodge, Montana is either slightly retarded, inbred, or certified insane. Anyway, the topic of Brad the Retard was brought up and my friend’s wife claimed she used to work with Brad and also noted that the town bought him a house. Again, What the fuck??????? What town buys a local retarded guy a house? I want to know not only how they raised money to buy him a house, but where and what kind of home they bought this man. She also informed me that I could find Brad down the street singing karaoke. Please, try to get a mental image of a down syndrome man singing karaoke, while he is slamming booze like he’s in a college fraternity. Sadly, we never found Brad in our search to witness this momentous occasion. Yet, my luck changed a few hours later when my friend stormed from the back bar uttering these words, “Ruther, you have to go to other bar because there is another retarded guy drinking at the bar.” Quickly I left the college girls in togas I was speaking with because I had to witness it for myself. So, I left the front bar and slowly walked to the back bar and turned to my right and saw one of the funniest, bizarre, and most ridiculous things I’ve ever seen: Sitting at the back bar in a full cowboy outfit with a black cowboy hat, long white t-shirt with fleece vest, tight jeans, and cowboy boots and drinking a Budweiser was Brad the Retard. It was like an advertisement you could see during an NFL game with the traditional American tough guy drinking his Budweiser, except this tough guy happened to be mentally retarded. I know it’s wrong for numerous reasons but I could not contain my laughter. I laughed hysterically with my buddy for countless minutes. In fact I could not contain myself and the laughter could not stop the rest of the night. The mental image of Brad the Retard sitting chivalrously in his cowboy attire and drinking a Budweiser was too much for me to handle. The other reason it’s so damn funny is the fact that everyone in the bar did not miss a beat and even turn an eye on this unusual spectacle. It was as if it’s perfectly normal to watch a mentally handicapped adult dressed as the Marlboro Man drinking at the local bar.
Throughout the rest of the night my friend and I watched Brad as he stared off into space probably thinking about cartoons and shitting himself. We watched intently as Brad stared at the college girls scantily clothed in togas or when he gazed at the band above him dressed as pirates. As I watched Brad I also took a quick look around the Snow Creek Saloon and I felt like I was on a different planet. I felt like I was trapped on an episode of the Twilight Zone or in a sick Stephen King horror film. We watched Brad the Retard exit the back and only wondered where the hell this poor soul would end his night. Yet, about twenty minutes later after the bar was closed we again met Brad the Retard. My friend and I were talking outside the front of the closed bar with some locals, when Brad the Retard burst thru the front door with both fingers in his ear and muttered these words: “It’s too loud in here (in a retard voice).” He then bolted down the street, probably to wrestle a bear or maybe close down the night by singing Billy Joel’s “Piano Man” on karaoke. Either way, again I could not control my laughter. Brad sat thru the entire loud night of music, people, and bar noise and seem completely unfazed. Yet, when the bar was officially closed and only had the workers cleaning up was when he couldn’t take the noise. I’ve learned not to question a damn thing about Red Lodge, Montana. No reasonable person can comprehend a retarded man drinking beers dressed as a cowboy, or a cab driver who couldn’t understand what an “acre” of land meant, or a hotel resort that did not know about or carry the channel NBC, yet these are all aspects of Red Lodge, Montana. I think anyone who reads this will be forced to experience these things first hand. So, anyone who decides to venture into Red Lodge, Montana I wish you luck and please have a beer with Brad the Retard, and may God have mercy on your soul.
