MANAGING EXPECTATIONS - BY MICHELE BLANCHARD

Many years ago, on a family trip across Nebraska, I decided we needed to pay a visit to Agate Fossil Beds National Monument. I had read about it in a travel magazine. Seeing actual dinosaur fossils in situ, what could be cooler than that? We were scheduled for a chuck wagon dinner that included a ride in a covered wagon along the actual Oregon Trail which I was very excited about (okay, I’m a geek), but I thought we could fit in a small detour and see some fossils.

The small detour took us on a long, long drive around the northwest corner of Nebraska – not the most exciting prospect. When we got to the turnoff for the Agate Fossil Beds, there was nothing in sight (it was Nebraska – very flat) for miles and miles. My husband said: “It’s a chuck wagon dinner or the fossil beds. Make a choice.” I chose the fossil beds.

We drove a long, long, long way down another road. About halfway there, the paved road ended and we were driving on dirt. Lots of ruts. Finally, we found the turnoff to the actual Agate Fossil Beds site. It didn’t look promising – there was a trailer, period – but I had sacrificed my chuck wagon dinner so I was committed.

Inside the trailer were several truly lame dioramas – about the level of a sub-par museum of natural history. “Where were the fossils?” we inquired. The staff pointed to a long, long boardwalk across the high plain prairie. In the distance was a butte. It was a hot day in July. But I had given up my chuck wagon dinner for this. We set off across the plains.

At the end of the boardwalk (considerately built to prevent us from succumbing to rattlesnake bite), we started climbing. At the first fossil site, there was no fossil. Just a sign stating that the actual fossil was temporarily on display in Lincoln, Nebraska. Disappointing, but the path seemed to stretch onward. We continued to climb.

Guess what? No fossils. Just more empty former fossil sites – more notes telling us where we could see the fossils if we wanted to travel back across the state and re-enter civilization.

I raved throughout the long, long way back down the butte and across the prairie. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on the helpful experts back there in the trailer. Unfortunately, by the time we trailed back there, it was closed for the day. Everyone was back home – presumably with a cold beer in their hands – laughing. (What we would have done if one of us had been bitten by a rattlesnake is another issue. Die, probably.) Enraged, I trailed around and around the site, looking for some means of venting my displeasure. I finally tore a deposit slip out of my checkbook and wrote a blistering note to the rangers before cramming it under the door.

I never got my chuck wagon dinner, but I did learn an important lesson – don’t send someone off across the prairie to see fossils if the fossils aren’t there.