I spent the better part of last week in Butte, Montana. I can’t say I’ve ever had a reason to go up to that part of the country until work led me there, but I can say that I’m glad I did. The scenery was gorgeous (except for the glaring strip mine in the middle of town) and the people were gracious beyond all expectations.
On my way to catch my 6:00 a.m. flight from Houston, I stopped at the tiny over-priced bookstore in the terminal. Nothing really caught my eye until I saw a clean gray book with a tiny mouse dressed like a Hamlet on the cover. It was Jenny Lawson’s (@thebloggess) book. I admit that I had heard great things, but I’m not much of a reader. Plus, I never have time to read anything so I never intended to buy Jenny’s book. I mean, I’m not a hater, I’m just lazy. Anyway, $27 later I was the proud owner of “Let’s Pretend This Never Happened.” And ten minutes later I was laughing so hard I almost peed myself at the gate.
After the first chapter (if you want to call it that) I was in love with Jenny’s style. And she’s a fellow Texan so there’s that. And we were both goth in the early ’90s when everyone else was a redneck. Of course, we didn’t call it goth back then. We were alternative. But not in the sense of the word these days. Well, I wasn’t. And while I never got my arm stuck in a cow’s vagina, I felt connected to Jenny. I was poor growing up, too. But I was always the new kid because my dad liked to move the entire family almost monthly. I think uprooting us was his hobby.
As I read on, I related more and more to her writing. I’m not as funny as she is, though. I mean, that chick is freaking hilarious. On Thursday night, I took the book to the pub in my Best Western in Butte and proceeded to stifle laughter so much that I think the bartender thought I had Tourette’s. When I got back to my room, I put the book on the bed and fell asleep. The next night, I was so exhausted from all the rocket testing and whatnot that I didn’t even open it. As I packed up for my 6:30 a.m. flight to Salt Lake City Saturday morning, I forgot my poor little book in the room. Panic set in at the airport. I had to find out what happened to her pug! I couldn’t be left hanging like that. So I decided to call the hotel to see if someone could find it and ship it to me.
“Best Western Butte Plaza Inn, this is (name I can’t remember because I’m a horrible person), how can I help you?”
“Um. I just checked out of room 271 and I think I left my book in my room.” I was sad that I had just lost $27 and may never know what or who Beyonce’ might be.
“Oh, I’ll run up there and see if I can find it.”
“I’m already at the airport,” I said. “Is there any way you can ship it to me in Houston?”
“Nah, I’ll just send it over with the pilots.”
I was blown away. “What?”
“The pilots. They’ll be down to check out in a bit and I’ll just send it with them.”
She was for real.
As I walked down the jetway, one of the pilots was right behind me. I turned and asked if he had happened to get a book from the front desk.
“Sure did. Was it gray with a little mouse on the cover?”
“Yes, that’s the one!” I was still just blown away.
“Oh, it’s over in the galley. Just stop by on your way to your seat and pick it up.”
What the what? This kind of stuff would never happen in Houston. My book would have been sold on the black market already. Or used for kindling. Or the pages used to roll joints in a back alley. But never would the manager of the hotel hand it to the pilot who would then bring it to me on the actual plane. Did I mention how blown away I was?
How awesome are the Delta staff and Best Western management in Butte? Very.
I was able to finish Jenny’s book. *Spoiler Alert* The pug dies, comes back a few times, then is gone for good. Beyonce’ is a giant metal cock. No, not that kind, the other kind. And best of all I’ve realized that there are decent people out there who aren’t just drawing a paycheck. They care. And that means the world to me.