And I swore I’d never complain about the occasional U.S. fly again.
After all, it’ll be dead in a few days anyway, right?
Well, I am reneging on that oath and whining about them.
This week, Hope
Village had the
opportunity to receive a portion of the gate proceeds of the Bakken Oil
conference. Half of the $5 admission fee is being split between us, the Dakota
Boys’ and Girls’ Ranch and the Williston Salvation Army. This is a good thing,
of course, and I am appreciative. Thank you, oil people.
In return, we were given the opportunity to have a booth at
the conference. This seemed easy enough, although the email directions started
getting very, very confusing and detailed about two weeks ago.
Got all that settled and finally, the three-day conference
has begun. I’m sitting, “Breakfast Club”-style, in one room for eight hours a
day for three days as I type this. Exciting it’s not.
The first morning went by fast enough as I was off
discovering what funky booths they have at oil conferences. Would you believe
AP is here as a sponsor? I had a nice chat with Michelle Morgante, who is either the bureau
chief or the news editor of the Dakotas, but she’s based in Minneapolis or something like that.
Of course, she had been through Detroit, though it was in 1991. She knew a
couple of people I worked with, like Jim Irwin and Paula Froke. She was kind of
astounded that I knew where some were and what they were up to these days. (Hi
Bree!)
I also got an AP bag, which was kind of cool since most of
my AP going away package got lost on the shipment back from Morocco. I need
another bag like Rally needs more fleas, but I like it.
So the morning was pleasant enough, but the afternoons were
just brutal. The nice little spot they gave the three charities is smack in the
sun on a sunny, 94-degree day. Possibly Tuesday was the hottest we had all
year, and man, it was just like roasting in an oven.
But what was worse was the flies. They just swarmed. I’ve no
idea why, but they were everywhere. Just five and six on my feet at any one
time.
And even though every single booth but Hope Village’s
was giving away some little trinket, there was not a fly swatter to be found. I
brought my reporter’s notebook and looked like a crazy woman, just whacking
away at the air. I think in all the spasms, I maybe got one. Maybe.
The second day, someone found a giveaway fly swatter.
At these exhibitions, everyone gives away something. There’s
a lot of candy and a lot of pens, neither of which I need. There are some funky
stuff out there, let me tell you. Toothpick dispensers, fidgets shaped like
chickens and oil rigs, golf tees and more.
We three charity booths apprehended one fly swatter among us
and on the third day I figured what the heck, I’d go get a fly swatter of my own. I’d
gotten the name off the first one and looked up where it was so that I didn’t
have to wander.
Well, I got there, and no fly swatter, save the one the
absent booth-minder had left behind hit computer monitor, clearly intended for him.
I couldn’t bear to steal it. No more fly swatters. Apparently that was a hot
item at this show, where the flies were just insane.
But the guy did have another freebie. I thought it was a
moist towelette and thought, wow, what a weird, weird freebie. And I picked it
up to look at it.
And it wasn’t a moist towelette. It was a condom. Grape.
Given the choice between a condom and a fly swatter, in Minot at this conference,
it’s just no contest. Fly swatter. Hands down. I don't even like grape.
I saw some lady wandering by, the kind of white trash people
you see in Walmart at 3 a.m. She three bags she’d picked up as freebies, and
each one was completely laden with freebies. I guess she got her money’s worth
in coming here.
When she passed me by, I hid the one remaining T-shirt I had
left. It was a medium, and she was NOT a medium, and I figured I’m not going to
help her out in her pilfering. Heck, she reminded me of Frick and Frack from
the Red Wings games, stealing media guides and everything else that wasn’t
nailed down.
So she didn’t get a T-shirt and since she came on the third
day, she didn’t get a fly swatter.
I wonder how many grape condoms she took.