One day, two simple lads from the South of Boston were given the simple task of traveling across the country, into the heart of grizzly country in order to untangle a web of complications that were being experienced by a wee little hospital, firmly nestled in the homeland of America's original Western movie star... And war hero.


And to repeat, these were simple lads...







Never before had they to bare witness to the harsh terrain and bizarre custom of the folk that dwell in the high altitudes that characterize the great Rocky Mountain West. They were not sure what to expect and it would be safe to say, that while they were well-prepared for the job that they needed to do when in Wyoming, they were, well, naive about the obstacles they would encounter prior to arrival at their destination.


And at first, it appeared that the gods would not even allow their trip to get off the ground. For administrative rigidity and the power of mother nature were seemingly bent on obstructing their journey from the very beginning. Fortunately for these simple, simple lads, there was beer...




But how were these two poor souls to pay for their beer?


Ah yes, with money from their proud sponsors, of course (Thanks, Meditech!)




After drowning their sorrows over "a few" pints, and comforting one another with several minutes of "hugging time", the two lads were able to finally board a plane that would bring them out to Mormon country. And so, you of course know what that means...


No, these young men were not willing to simply roll the dice. Even though they were simple, SIMPLE lads, they were indeed listening to the airline employee's lack of confidence expressed with respect to whether or not they would be able to make their scheduled connection over at the Great Salt Lake. For much like the salt that saturates said body of water, the land of Brigham Young is as dry as a bone. And so the boys arrived in town as sauced as fettuccine alfredo.


However, for the first time on their adventure, fortune would smile on the lads; for their connection was made with only precious seconds to spare, even with the unanticipated pit stop required by their herculean efforts on the initial flight. And plus, it was this very effort put forth on the previous flight that allowed them to sleep soundly through the cacophony of the twin prop engines that roared across the Rocky Mountains, bouncing up and down on air pockets and unpredictable jet streams resulting from the sedentary monsters resting ominously below...


Once firmly nestled in their luxury hotel beds (once again; thanks, Meditech!), the lads, even amidst their alcohol-induced delirium, wrestled in their pajamas, nervous about the day to come. But as the sun rose over the Great Plains, it was revealed that these two lads, in lieu of their simplicity, had nothing to fear. For their destination was even a simpler place than their respective birthplaces, and they were well-prepared... For the most part, anyway.


Yet, although things came easy to the lads at the controlled environs of the hospital, life in the town of Cody was not nearly as straightforward. The cars moved very slowly, strangers abruptly offered their greetings as they passed on sidewalks, photographers speaking various, outlandish languages, surveyed the landscape, heavily tattooed men and women motored by, helmetless and gruff, and young females rode upon brown large beasts...




And even younger males donned strange hats...

And eye-balled the lads...



It was not long before these strange sites began to play tricks in the simple minds of these simple lads. It was then when they decided to seek refuge in the confines of some familiar territory.



A pub! But, of course. Where else could the lads attain the comfort and chemical courage necessary to endure and proceed with the rest of their mission? It was a place where the food was plentiful and the beverages where nary a dollar more than the currency for which the establishment was named.

Yet, no matter how many burgers were (literally) choked down, or beer swilled, it was clear that these lads would never be allowed to assimilate into this harsh, unwelcoming culture. A culture, that preferred Cops to baseball. A culture, that shunned the platonic act of hugging. A culture...



that had never even heard...




of Steely Dan.



Instead, it was a culture that sneered at gawking tourists.


It was a culture that valued beast-riding...




Clown-clad sheriffs...




Crappy NFL teams...




And, obstructed views...




These witless lads were left, well, witless by the sheer force of the culture shock. And since their usual bread and butter, the bottle, had failed them, they saw no other option but to flee this peculiar, bellicose land (not that they knew the significance of either of those words).


And so they headed for the hills!



Little did they know that what waited for them beyond the city limits was no less trying, and even more dangerous.


For there were all sorts of hostile creatures awaiting their arrival, including...



WOLVES!




RAMS!

And Rams made exclusively of BONES!




ITCHY ELK!




Vast, boiling pools of liquid hot MUD!


















And scariest of all...



BEARS!




Fortunately, for these simplistic castaways, most of these animals proved friendly...

Especially the bear.


But the friendliest of them all, was the Buddhist Buffalo, who rested by the lakeside, meditating and pondering the fate of all the finite beings that wandered the earth.



The Buffalo was able soothe and smooth away the worries that dogged the minds of this dull duo.


"If your fate is determined," said the Buffalo, "then why concern yourselves with the inevitable?"


The two lads looked at one another quizzically as if the Buffalo were speaking a foreign language, and NOT because, well, they were listening to a BUFFALO.


"Just follow the winding river," the Buffalo sighed. "You can't miss it. For it is your destiny."





"And if you get lost, then just follow that sign over there."





The naive lads thanked the Buffalo by gruffly patting him on the back, to which the Buffalo responded by goring the smaller one. Buddhist or not, self defense was still well within the Buffalo's rights, especially when dealing with the marginally intelligent.


And so off they went...







Swimming through the valley...

Wading through the lilly pads...

And most importantly, dodging them grizzlies:




Until at last, they had arrived.

It is one of the greatest natural phenomena in America, and possibly the world, and like all interesting things in this great land, it had been turned into a sideshow.



And for the next 45 minutes, these simple lads, along with the rest of these simple park-goers, waited for Senor Faithful to make some noise...




And so they waited...




And then they waited some more...




And then a chipmunk ran passed...




And still the lads waited...


Until...


There it was !




Just kidding...




There was a lot of that...



And with that, the lads grew impatient, for they knew that fate was just around the corner and they wanted it NOW...




But then, their patience was at last rewarded...





WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

























Old Man Faithful managed to inspire a new sense of courage and camaraderie amongst these barely sensible lads. And so, they headed back into town, ready to ride out the duration of their trek; inspired, emboldened, and perhaps most importantly, bonded:

THE END.