Anecdotes: My Life One Story At A Time

Back in my youth, my third year in college in Montana, I lived down by the rail road tracks near the edge of town in a 4 bedroom house with at one point six guys. You see myself and another roommate of ours went home for the summer and we rented out our rooms during that time. What we didn't count on was our temporary roommates lazyness. So when august rolled around and I made my yearly pilgrimage back to Bozeman I was greeted with a prominent mister Dan P. sleeping in my bed. It was like a bad version of Goldy Locks.

Now Dan is a roughly 6'4" Minnee-Sotan and was a friend of mine, we had met freshman year in the dorms....but buy now Dan had chosen drinking and swinging a hammer (carpenter) as a career choice. He came home from work extremely tired and basically with a frosty one in his hand the moment he left his truck; a gigantic fire engine red late 70's chevy silverado with rumbling tailpipes and a two inch lift. Needless to say; finding a new place to lie his head was the least of his concerns.

So for the time being I slept in a little cubby at the top of the stairs off at the end of the hallway that separated the upstairs bedrooms. For about four weeks that fall, our little drafty farmhouse on the outskirts of town housed; Myself, Dan P., Alex L., George G., Charlie H., and various sixth roomies who were professional couch surfers.....we had a lot of those in college.

The central nerve of this house was the living room. It had wood paneled walls and was overflowing with couches....and end table held a lamp and half drunk beers and lighters. The coffee room was centered around a huge barnwood styled chest of a coffee table that was the home of various remotes and Alex L's fly tieing vise. The whole ensemble was finished off by a mangy old stuffed javelina that hung from the wall above on of the couches. We would hang baseball caps and keychains from the teeth.

Alex was another friend intertwined through freshman dormitories that decided that fly fishing, selling flies he hand tied and drinking was a valid career choice. Bozeman had a knack for doing that too you. The siren call of the mountains and streams would make even the nerdiest, geekiest student throw down their books and take a few turns in the fresh powder on bridger bowl.

So one particular night....Alex, Charlie and myself are sitting in the living room drinking beers and watching late night T.V....Conan Obrien or something. The door flies open and a stumbling and slurring Dan crashes in. He mumbles something about..."Do we have any extra beer?" Now we do, but were all thinking the last thing Dan needs right now is extra beer. He mumbles louder this time..." Give me a six-pack!" So he trudges past us and into the kitchen and emerges with a six pack of coors light....he promptly walks straight out the door. Moments later he re-enters the house empty handed and we hear a car pull out.

Dan stomps into his/my bedroom and promptly passes out. Were all a little vexed but it passes in a haze of beer and crappy tv. The next morning I ask Dan what the hell happened?

This is where the story gets good. Dan had gone to the Crystal a local bar and got tuned up. He decided that he needed a snack so he drove his big red truck to the 24 hour Hardee's. He placed his order at the drive thru and then passed teh f*ck out. Right in his truck in the middle of a drive thru. Luckily for Dan the gentlemen behind him, honked their horn....got out to investigate and decided it was in the public safetys interest to drive dan home. So one fella hopped in big red and drove Dan home. For their trouble I do believe they garnered a free Mushroom Swiss Burger and a Six Pack of Coors Light. So that sort of sums up Dan during his stay in Bozeman.