[Rain Man]

Only a few days ago, I stood before you as a gentrified city boy, jostling my way to work amidst a million other Japanese commuters, unable to identify where beef comes from, and being able to navigate at night only by knowing that satellite dishes always face south.

Today, after countless hours in the harsh wilderness, my face wizened by a two-day growth of beard, I come before you a mountain man, following in the moccasin-clad footsteps of men like Jim Bridger, Kit Carson, bwana, and otter.

How, you might ask, did such a transformation occur? Did I have an epiphany? A life-changing event that caused me to return to the warm but unforgiving embrace of nature? Not exactly. Like many men, greatness was thrust upon me, namely by the fact that my wife got a business trip to Yellowstone National Park. Unable to resist the lure of the last great frontier, I tagged along. I am currently searching the history books, but I believe that we are the first consulting couple ever to enter Yellowstone together with twin laptops.

I saw many things during my time in the Park. I learned from the Indians, from the animals, from the Eastern European cafeteria workers in the lodge. But mostly, I reached inside myself and learned that I can be a strong, independent hotel guest even in a place as unforgiving as the Snow Lodge of the Old Faithful resort complex.

Yes, it was rough, my friends. It was rough. There was no TV. The Internet connection was only a 42k dialup. There were no in-room massage services. And I had only four restaurants to choose from, one of them serving nothing but pizza. But I persevered. I never gave up, never lost hope. And I came out of it a better man.

Sure, there were times that were difficult. The cruelty of man was evident. On one of my days there, we had a strong, cold rain, yet for some reason, the Park staff did not bring the buffalo herds inside. The poor animals were stuck outside, getting cold and wet, and even my most vigorous complaints were met with unbelieving stares by the rangers. The rangers also placed signs predicting geyser eruptions, and adamantly refused to adjust the schedules even when I explained it for the hundredth time. Simple logic would have told these people that a geyser eruption at noon was inconvenient, requiring guests to choose between lunch and viewing. But no, they would not deign to provide customer service and move it up a few hours. I am saddened by man's inhumanity to man.

Of course, there were good times, too. I am pleased to say that Yellowstone is great vacation spot for those with flatulence. One shift of the wind when you're standing at a bubbling pot of sulphur water, and any personal transgression was watered down to insignificance. At no time during my four days did I rise above #8 on the list of local noxious gas producers, and I can't recall the last time that happened. Add that to a preponderence of slender blonde Eastern European hotel staff, and you've got the makings of a great working vacation, even if you're the only one typing on a laptop in front of Old Faithful.

I left not knowing if I would survive. But I did, and I did it grandly. I didn't get gored by a buffalo. I didn't fall into any pools of boiling water. I didn't provoke that odd guy who kept looking at me in the lobby. I even learned that I can live in Grizzly country without harm, as long as I make sure to get a second-floor room and store the Cheetos on the other side of the room.

Yes, my friends. It was a challenge. It wasn't always easy, and I think a weaker person might have cracked under the strain. I am proud to say that I have proven my mettle, though. I showed that I can survive in the greatest remaining wilderness left in these United States. Emboldened by that success, I may up the ante now. Does anyone know if there's a nice hotel in Yosemite?