Since I am traveling as frugally as possible, I am open to sleeping on anyone’s couch, as long as it’s free. Since I knew I would want to stop around Salt Lake City last night, an old friend from freshman year of college crossed my mind. And since I have no pride and feel no shame, after 6 years of no communication, I looked her up.
On the phone, she told me that she lived with her boyfriend. Fair enough. And then, when I was about 15 minutes from their apartment in downtown Salt Lake, she called to warn me that he smokes pot. Okay. But the thing that she didn’t warn me about?
I walked into the gorgeous, creaky, 1909 apartment building to be greeted with pictures of Bob Marley and Tibetan prayer flags and Camel ashtrays… and a long-haired grey cat named Ivan. Ivan immediately took to me, and felt compelled to position himself as close to my face as possible. At all times. This proved to be problematic, as I was sleeping on the couch and had no way to keep the cat away. So as I fell asleep between two fleece blankets (shudder) while watching the first episode of “Big Love” (when in Rome…), Ivan was right there with me, causing my eyes to water and my nose to run.
Or was that the hash?
I woke up with the sun this morning, and since my hosts were still fast asleep, I put on my running shoes and explored the downtown city streets for about an hour and a half. Salt Lake is a very strange city: clean – pristine, even – with huge city blocks and wide two-way streets. I always feel a strange, unsettled feeling in my gut when I’m in the Beehive State – like, I know that everyone is wearing special undergarments and shunning my beloved, essential caffeine.
Nope, never gonna live in Utah. That is, unless I go to dental school. Because those polygamist colonies have got to be an orthodontist’s dream.