We made it to Mount Rushmore. But before we went there we swung over to Sturgis. I kicked myself for not bringing my bookmarks to my book, The Pastor’s Wife Wears Biker Boots. I didn’t know I’d be going to Sturgis. I learned a lesson: take bookmarks everywhere. Everywhere. Note to self duly noted and ingrained.
It was a great time to drive through Sturgis because the raucous activity hadn’t started yet. So many motorcycles to see, so little time! We may try to come over next year with bookmarks and books. I hope it can happen.
We drove on to Mt. Rushmore and Mama Ellen wasn’t steady on her feet, so we needed to request a wheelchair at the information desk. This is how the conversation went:
Me: Do you have any available wheelchairs?
Ranger: Do you have a license to drive?
Me (smiling): Yes, do you have wheelchairs?
Ranger: Are you a licensed driver?
You have to understand something. I live with a man who always answers questions with questions and loves to tease, so I thought the guy was asking me if I had a license to drive a wheelchair.
Annoyed, he asked me again, “Are you a licensed driver? You have to be a licensed driver to borrow a wheelchair.”
Finally my husband stepped up and said, “You need a driver’s license?”
The guy nodded and Mr. Himself handed him his license.
At which point I became annoyed and irritated. Why didn’t the ranger just ask me for my driver’s license in the first place?
I felt a little miffed at how he talked down to me. And it put me in one of those feminist moods. You know, the kind where you think, “He wouldn’t have talked to me that way it I were a man.” Or, “If I were an attractive bombshell, he would have been more direct and done all he could to help me.”
A woman knows when she’s being condescended to. She just knows.
But, we did get to see the giant presidents’ heads. And got pictures before it started pouring rain. Mr. Himself got irritated with me when I didn’t want my picture taken at one point. I’d let that rude ranger put me in a mood for a bit. And then Mr. Himself got in a mood. But we got over it. Family vacations. Interpersonal communication skills. <sigh>
Now we’re driving through Hell Canyon. We hope we’re heading the right direction to Yellowstone. Hard to tell because there’s no available 4G anywhere. You’d think with as many people travel this route there’d be something, but it’s rather desolate. It’d be a great place to live if you don’t want anything to do with modern conveniences. Don’t know that I want to live in a place called Hell Canyon, though.