Trapped at Yellowstone

         It had been one of those years.  As the stress at work mounted and the big project neared its completion, the word V-A-C-A-T-I-O-N sparkled in the future, spelled out across my desk-top calendar blotter with one bold letter in each day of the week.

         OK, I know vacation has eight letters; I put an apostrophe after the V so it would fit in the space.

         I’ll never understand how time passes so slowly when you’re waiting for something and so quickly once it arrives.  The next two days seemed like an eternity but I was finally in the car heading off to Wyoming with my wife and kids when, before I knew it, we were packing to go home.

         “I wish we had just one more day,” I said, stretching.  The cool June weather of the high altitudes refreshed me, but I wasn’t ready to expend that renewed energy on work.  “One more time ‘round the geyser basin to see ‘Old Faithful’?”

         My suggestion was met with a rousing cheer as the children scrambled for their shoes.  “Are you sure we have time?” Donna asked.  “You’ll be driving through the night to get home in time for work as it is.”

         I wasn’t worried.  Another day off would suit me just fine.  Little did I know my wish was about to come true.

         We drove through the gates at Yellowstone National Park and stopped at the first gift shop for our customary cup of coffee.  “Ah, this hits the spot,” I sighed. 

         My wife, not a coffee drinker, ordered a hot chocolate and shivered.  “There’s a chill in the air this morning,” she said, thanking the waitress. 

         “The weather radio warned we could have a late snowfall this year,” the waitress replied.  “There’s a possibility of blizzard-like conditions by 3pm, so be careful out there.”

         “A blizzard in June?” I questioned.  “Isn’t that a bit out of the ordinary?”

         “Sir,” she began with a grin, “this is Yellowstone; everything’s ‘out of the ordinary’.”

         I chuckled and paid the bill.

         “Have a great day, and be careful out there!” she warned.

         “Maybe we should get some jackets,” Donna suggested, rubbing her arms to ward off the goosebumps. 

         “It’s just fog,” I assured her, looking at the sky.  “It’ll burn off as soon as the sun comes out.”

         Two miles up the road snow flakes started to fall.  “It’s snowing!  the kids shouted, pressing their faces to the steamed-up windows.

         Within minutes, the flurries intensified and the flakes were sticking together in large clumps.  As we drove past a Visitor’s Center turn off, Donna nudged me.  “Don’t you think we should turn around?”

         “Honey, it’s June.  Even if it snows a couple inches, how long will it last?” I protested.  “Besides, we’ll get some great photos.”  She frowned in response.  “OK,” I compromised, “if it’s not letting up by the time we get to the next turn off, I’ll turn around.”

         I slowed my pace to a crawl, listening to the snow crunch under the tires as I kept alert for other traffic, but no one else was in sight.  It took over an hour to drive ten precarious miles before a large sign loomed in the distance.  Its face was hidden by snow sticking to its surface. 

         "I’ll see where we are,” I announced, clicking on the emergency flashers.  I gasped as my sandaled feet sank into the snow, and shivered as my bare hands brushed icy precipitation from the road sign.  Shoving my frozen hands as deeply into my shorts’ pocket as was possible without pushing them out the bottom of the leg I slid back to the car.  I had almost made it when my feet slipped from beneath me and I landed squarely on my rump.  Struggling to regain my footing, I could hear my children laughing.

         Opening the door I was greeted by a chorus of stifled giggles. “T-turn on the h-heat,” I stuttered through chattering teeth, brushing the melting snow from my rear. 

         Donna swallowed hard to regain her composure. “Where are we, honey?”   

         “Visitor’s Center two miles ahead,” I grumbled.  We drove in silence but I could see Donna’s smile out the corner of my eye.  Stupid snow.

         Everyone piled out when I parked the car.  “Let me take your picture,” Donna suggested with a sly grin. 

         The kids lined up like angels but just as Donna snapped the picture I was bombarded by snowballs.  “Now you’re all gonna get it,” I bellowed, chasing them playfully toward the building.

         The rangers greeted us warmly as we shook the snow from our clothes, “My goodness, we didn’t think we’d see anyone out and about today.  How did you ever find us?”

         “Dad cleaned snow off a sign,” six-year-old Polly began.  “Then he fell on his bottom and got all wet,” she finished with a giggle, pointing toward my posterior.

         The rangers looked at each other and grinned.  “Well, it looks like you’re stuck with us for the day.  All roads in and out of the park have been closed and the plows won’t be here until morning.”

         “Morning?  I have to be at work in the morning,” I groaned.

         The rangers shrugged.  “There’s nothing we can do.  They’re sending a snow cat from the main lodge to get us.  The Park will put you up at the lodge for the night and make sure you have plenty of food and warm beverages, but there’s no way anyone can get out of the park until tomorrow.”

         “Another day of vacation,” I sighed, resigning myself to my fate.  “But think of the stories we’ll have to tell.”

         We were given a beautiful room and, after purchasing warm clothing at the camp store, we hiked around the snow-covered geyser basin, watched Old Faithful erupt several times, and got some great shots of American bison roaming in the snow.  I included some of these photos when I emailed work that afternoon.  They wouldn’t have believed me otherwise.

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