SALT LAKE CITY.
Sunday, April 18, 2010. Day Four or The Wonderful Way In Which We Walk.
No matter how old I get, sitting alone in the backseat makes me feel 5 and 1/2.
We drove the 40 minutes east of SLC, through the Wasatch Range, to Park City. I spied out through the backseat windows, eyes wide like a baby kitten. Dry grasses and thirsty aspens dotted the eastern slopes while the westernmost hills were still blanketed with snow and cool shade. Abandoned farm houses littered the mountain drive. And we drove a steady 60 miles per hour, I could have sat there forever watching snow slowly melt into creeks. Imagining mountain goats and Heidi and the Swiss Alps from the hot leather of the backseat. Juniper tinged wind blowing my hair back. There's almost nothing more satisfying than the silence in observing mountain geology. Superior and slow, you can only watch.
Welcome to the dollhouse... street.
Park City strikes me with skepticism in the same way that Santa Fe does. Like, really? Like lunch specials are 18 bucks? And this consignment store ring is $52? Really? And there's no garbage in the gutter? And that obvious millionaire is wearing a cowboy hat? And this town is 80.5% White as factored by the 2008 census? And seriously, 18 dollar lunches?! Really? Come on now, be serious, Park City.
If I weren't with the Cleavers, I'd have literally pissed on their sidewalks. Excuses, excuses! I'm just a wimp.
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The hills and ski slopes surrounding Park City seem like the closest embodiment to the christian ideal of heaven that you'll ever see.
The air is warm and cozy, the snow mounds give off cool breezes and the sunshine heats the top of your head nicely. You could have a snowball fight in summer shorts and tee-shirts.
Wow... heartbeats... fainting... Banksy art in real life...
I was told they put plastic over it because businesses garner more revenue if they keep their Banksy stencil graffiti on their building... sort of fucks with the deconstructionist nature and by sort of I mean totally. Barf!
Here is Jesse's wife who, from I understand in that weekend, hates anything seedy or underbelly in society. A prototypical normie. I could have had fun questioning and arguing with her (in a pleasant way) but I must have had low blood sugar. All I could manage was an occasional eye roll. Yikes :(
Anyway.
Let's see... Jesse's my cousin closest in age on both sides of the fam. He's a year older than me and a vitamin D deficient computer whiz.
Isn't this crazy?! You just ski right into the shopping center??!! Maybe it's not that unusual...
Oh! Also! One of the shops still open in off-season was blasting Dave Matthews Band and it took me back to..... when I capital-L Loved Dave Matthews Band, ugggghhhh I KNOW! I think it's about time for another embarrassing confession:
Picture it, late 2000, it was my junior year and I was nudging my way into the 4.0, varsity athletes, starring roles in school plays, Honors classes, choir, band preps clique. The seemingly Perfect people. I was pretty sneaky about it, too. I had made really good friends with all the band geeks (because I was one myself) and most of the theater people, but still wasn't invited to sit in the courtyard with them so I decided to make best buddies with Stuart from the group who I sort of already had a crush on and looked like how you imagine Thor with golden curls and straight nose, tall and muscular, perfect teeth and heartbreaking smiles. I got to know Stuart. We'd go to movies, exchange c.d.'s, have late night phone calls and that's how I got a hold of five different Dave Matthews Band discs. I listened to all of them. I had my favorite songs (Satellite, Two Step), fully crushing on Stuart, finally got invited to sit with the perfects... aaaaand it was so intensely overrated that my crush on Stu died. My interest in the preps died. Dave Matthews Band seemed grossly too happy. My interest in normies blew away on a wind draft and I let Ian, the school punk, shoot me up with heroin for the first time. Just kidding bout the last statement, but wouldn't that have been an awesome ending to that story?
Also, I kissed DMB good-bye when my parents started recommending me Grateful Dead albums because of my DMB collection. Sayonara! Still... hearing it takes me back to cliques and school lunches and high school hierarchy. 'Tis bittersweet :) Now please forget you ever read that!
We drove back to Salt Lake City and visited the campus flower conservatory. So-so.
The guest room boudoir.
That night, Jesse and his wife took me to the most expensive restaurant I'd ever been to (at the time I had not yet experienced the crap shack, TAO.) The menus had fluorescent lights that would light up when you'd open 'em. The cocktail list didn't even have prices. My fish dish was stacked like the Eiffel Tower. It was really weird and I would have taken El Sabor over that anytime, but my cuz did pay for all of it so I'm not complaining!!
It was after 9 and I packed, cleaned up after myself and asked Jesse to drive me to Peery Hotel in downtown Salt Lake. I specifically booked a hotel on Sunday night so I could be alone for at least one day. I tricked myself into thinking I'm this little independent jet setter with loads of cash at her disposal... it felt nice, haha!
This hotel was built for adventurous and rich Americans traveling across country by horse and coach in the early 20th century. You can see ghosts of men in timely suits smoking cigars in the lobby. Women in Victorian dress playing cards at small tables, eggshell white lace gloves and hair puffed-out and pulled-up in a bouffant. Horse hooves on cobblestone and the sounds of a train whistle... I let my imagination run wild. Actually, omg... am I AGAIN imagining THE WILD WEST DANCE SCENE IN BACK TO THE FUTURE PART III??!!
Somehow this scene permeates every travel trip I take. I think I should be worried.
Peery Hotel was wonderful and dreamy. I felt like a kid whose parents finally trusted them to be alone for the first time. I didn't know what to do, jump on or watch first. Really exciting!
I took snaps of myself and listened to the Pixies so loud I thought I'd be thrown out. I jumped from the bed to the chaise and opened the blinds all the way and wore my slut dress 2 inches too low. I needed some seedy, underbelly behavior to set me straight and in Salt Lake, seedy means staying up past 10. See ya on SLC: Travel Day Five :)
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