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Big Sky State

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The first (and only) time I had been to Montana was just prior to starting business school. Meant to be a team building, get-to-know-you type of event just before we began the school year, my classmates and I were shipped off in 15-passenger vans across the west, Montana-bound. We were to spend the week white water rafting, but we pulled up to camp in the middle of a downpour. The rain didn't stop all day, such that most of us ended up huddled back in the vans to keep dry. The thought of having to set up a tent--let alone sleep in it--while battling such weather was horrifying to me, such that I found myself wondering aloud: "They can't make us stay here, can they?" My classmates teased me and my lack of endurance for the next 2 years over that comment, but whatever. I had a point. I knew they were all thinking the same thing.

I returned to Montana this past weekend for only the second time in my life. I'm probably even less outdoorsy now than I was the first time around, but I feel like at least this time, I was able to experience and appreciate Montana in a truer sense. Farms, chickens, horses, rabbits, deer heads mounted on the walls of the grocery store, parents who name their children names like Remington, a Main Street composed of only second-hand stores. I confess I found Montana beautiful. And, for lack of a better word, restful. That doesn't mean I could live there. Or endure sitting out in the rain for days just because the mountains are nice to look at. But, especially coming directly after my weekend in NYC, I couldn't help but appreciate this slice of country life. (I said appreciate...not prefer.)

 

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