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| McPolin Farm Park Cities, Utah |
Wowzers! My trip to Utah to celebrate the nuptials of my home girl G Money began bright and early Friday morning... 1:45 am, 2:38 am, 3:41 am to be exact, and I finally just pitched in the towel around 4:40 am... My alarm was set for 5:30 am. Boo internal rooster. I hear this is what happens as you get older, however my pounding heart indicated that it wasn't merely old age at work. I was getting espresso sized shots of cortisol roughly every hour after midnight. Neat trick Mr. Adrenal Gland. Neat. Trick.
Friday morning at Austin International Airport is a busy, busy, busy time. I almost had to push down a posse of college boys sporting Lutheran College shirts cuz they were so GD slow in the breakfast taco line. Momma was hungry. And tired. Which means Momma was a hair's breadth away from killin' folk. I was about to put the beat down on those choads until I realized I could order at the little computer kiosk. Awesome. And thus I was saved from being tackled by TSA and possible assault charges. No one got bitten 'cept the most delicious bacon, egg and cheesy breakfast sammie. Ever. Yum.
I flew Delta which was the first time since I can recall. Potentially the first time ever. It was a tee-tiny fast as F-word mama jama. I somehow managed to pack 3 pairs of sandals, 1 pair of heels (gasp), a pair of winter boots, 2 dresses, 2 pairs of jeans, 2 cuteashell sweaters, 1 swim suit, 2 pairs of shorts, 2 t-shirts, jammies, a gallon sized plastic bag of tiny toiletries AND my blow dryer in one red carry-on bag
plus a bulging backpack. Boo yah, bitches. Boo yah. Yes, it may have weighed approximately 50 pounds combined but it was still FREE, so there ;)
I got a 'lil pink tag for my red roly bag when I scanned my ticket at boarding and then a fella (I'm almost CERTAIN he said he was our PILOT) took it from me and stored it under our plane... (Still free!) I hope Delta pays their pilots extra for these little luxuries. It made me smile to myself and I thought out loud to the gentleman behind me as I'm often apt to do, "Well... That's neat. I wonder if it makes him fly more safely because he's seen all of our smiling faces?"
Verdict says: No. Or since we didn't crash, I guess he was flying safe... Any who, all I could picture on take off (other than stuffing a dirty gym sock in the mouth of the woman 2 ROWS behind me that we shall now refer to as the OVER SHARER) was his long curly, well groomed hair gently waving in the breeze of the pilots cabin as the g force from our 10 second take off plastered the rest of us passengers to our seatbacks. Just as we had almost reached cruising 'tude he banked East so hard we saw all of Austin at a stunning 45 degree angle and the chick sitting next to me
almost got to see what I ate for breakfast. That take off was legit y'all.
Back to the in-cabin fiesta. As I was trying to sit in my seat upon boarding, the flight attendant walked up behind me and NEVER SLOWED down. Like my backpack is in the aisle. I'm trying to sit in my seat simultaneously while trying to shove a 30 pound back pack into a 10 pound bag alcove in front of my feet. I was trying to lift my feet that had somehow become tangled in the arm straps of the same damn (but really well packed) backpack and Godzilla was like PUSHING me. I almost had to hit a sister. No, truthfully I almost asked her if she wouldn't just prefer to jump over. About 5 minutes later she paid me back for my dawdling by throwing her chunky elbow into the side of my head as she walked past.
Godzilla 2 - Gator 0.
Oh! I almost forgot. She handed me my ice water and then booty bumped my elbow so hard that I almost ended up wearing the whole cup.
The replay shows, Godzilla 3 - Gator 0.
And then there was the over sharer. The worst 10 minutes of my LIFE was taxi, takeoff and that time before we can turn our beautiful, wonderful electronic devices back
on to drown out the weirdos. For real. She either owns the world's oldest functioning uterus, or she has adopted children, or she just likes to spin tall tales. She told her poor seat mate and the rest of the 44 passengers aboard our flight all about her 5 kids ranging from college age to diapers. Activities, intellect, driving abilities, personalities... OMG she would not shut up.
Best part? Her soundtrack was punctuated by the smell of baby farts. Between she and I sat a little baby with what seemed to be severe gastrointestinal issues. And may I suggest to his parents that dairy does not seem to agree with their stinky little angel? Or maybe it was Dad...
Any way, I do realize that my last comment has just insured that any children that I may or may not ever own will only shit outside of their diapers, in public places. Awesome.
Landing was
almost as much fun as take off... If you don't count all the turbulence and crying from seat 14B. No... The ass dropping baby was sitting in 15B. The cries seemed to be originating from my own body.
But we lived... And
THEN...
While standing in line to pick up our rental car for tooling around SLC a large fellow with very scary toes approached me. Like, his toe nails looked
exactly like shanks that he had carefully been cultivating in prison. Ew. Any who, scary toes was so engrossed with his phone call regarding bail bondsman, which posse of attorneys to contact and keeping his swim trunks aboard his scaly body, he failed to notice that he cut in front of Momma Hungry Bear. In a line where I was already 12 Mormons deep, I couldn't bear (pun intended) to wait even 5 minutes longer to secure my ride yo, and most importantly my lunch.
After his 20 minute conversation he pocketed the phone long enough for me to say, "Pardon me sir. I believe I was in front of you."
To which came his less than friendly reply, "
I'm from Hawaii, where we just don't get in a hurry. (Unless you wanted to count his most recent and slightly frantic get someone outa jail convo.) If you're in that big of a hurry you just go
right ahead and get up here."
At this point I'm trying not to make eye contact with Crazy Island Guy while I finished a text to my mother that said, "Sweet Baby Jesus I really just went and did it now. Don't be alarmed, but I love you very much and the man that I'm about to go hand to hand with is ugly AND smelly with toenails that should be classified as weapons."
I've heard you shouldn't make eye contact with wild animals (or was it dogs?) because it can be perceived as aggressive behavior further perpetuating dangerous "situations," if you will... But alas it didn't seem to be helping. All the full grown menfolk standing about were visibly and courageously melting into the concourse leaving me a lone woman on an island of self made insanity.
Mr. Crazy Pants continued his rant as I began to steam, "Know what I'm gonna do for you? I'm gonna pay all these people 20 bucks so you can go straight to the front of the line! Right now! I'll make that guys whole day!"
"No thanks." I said, less than successfully biting back my sarcasm. "That won't be necessary but aren't you generous and ever so helpful?"
Crazy: "You're WELCOME! Glad I could HELP!
Gator: "Yeah buddy, thanks a lot."
Crazy: "And I hope you learned something from this conversation today. This'll be
one conversation you won't ever forget!"
Gator: Now standing at my full height and channeling Colonel Crazy Makookoo myself, totally catching Crazy Pants off guard with my full blown death stare... "Oh
really? And what LESSON would that be?"
Why is it that I continued to poke Mr Shanks-Fer-Toes you ask? Who knows? Actually, it's recently been called to my attention that I occasionally like some spicy drama, I like to pretend to be "in control" and I also like to be "right." Laughable, yes? But mostly I just wanted to hear this nut job's twisted logic. It was like watching Bella smash into the side of the bed when she's launched herself too low. I kinda know it won't end well, but I can't turn away from the horror.
Mr. Sandals-Were-A-Poor-Choice-O-Foot-Garb finished with his coupe de grace, "ALOHA! That's what you've learned today. You've learned to say ALOHA."
TOTALLY lame... But an admirable recovery as I'm certain he too was momentarily unsure of the important and memorable lesson at hand.
I made my, "Hmmm, well aren't
you an ass hat face," spun on my heel and left him BEHIND my cold shoulder while I palmed my tiny hairspray can for protection. I know, I'm somewhat of a genius... Then I used my sunglasses in the other hand to watch his reflection for any sudden movements while simultaneously giving disapproving looks to all the pussy cats surrounding me.
My excellent behavior in line was then rewarded by a FREE upgrade from a full-sized car to an SUV. What, what? 10 minutes later I was blasting the wrong way outa SLC aeropuerte in my Chevy Traverse making the first of many illegal u-turns on red for the weekend, and in desperate search of Walmart.
My phone was redlining after documenting my air travel and my showdown at the SLC corral so acquiring a car charger was first item of business, hunger be damned. Thankfully I had just enough juice to map myself directly to the only two-story Walmart I have ever laid eyes upon. My goth guide at the register recommended "Alchemy" for a good cup of Joe and something delightful to nosh on, and off I went again.
Although quite skeptical that the Mormons could make a good cup of coffee, Alchemy did not disappoint. I had a fall flavored beverage chock full of liquid life and the best hummus veggie plate EVER made. Yum.
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| A fine place to rest my weary bones. |
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| Alchemy's Day of the Dead Decor. |
After refueling and recharging my weary body and essential electrical devices I raced back to the airport to collect Nina and Dub, two of my most favorite partners in crime.
After satisfactory hugs and smooches were doled out we loaded the Traverse and skedaddled on down to Sandy, Utah (home of the Beet Diggers y'all!) which is just south of SLC where we checked into our double sa-weet at the Marriot. Food being the second item of order we quickly found ourselves ensconced in a cozy booth at "Healthy Tomato" or some such jazz. They offered a salad buffet with pizza, pasta, fresh baked bread, BROWNIES, and soft serve. Awesome.
While Nina and I chose to do a little hiking at the University of Utah's Arboreteum to work off our 'salad bar,' Dub enjoyed himself a nap-a-roosky in our sa-weet. Nina and I tremendously enjoyed gossiping while also running from bees. I managed to quickly roll in the verdant beauty Utah calls GRASS and Texas is now calling CHAR. We even managed to capture some very interesting photos that will never see the light of day because my dear Nina says she KNOWS where her camera cord is for uploading, she just can't remember exactly WHERE she put it... Boo.
Pictures in summary:
1. Gator poses as if she is drinking from a snake which turned out looking
much more pornographic than it sounds. What? It was a
water fountain.
2. Nina poses in the herb garden. Ha, ha! I said, Herb.
3-5. We both take pictures riding a bronzed moose, which surprisingly looks LESS pornographic than it sounds.
6-1200. Random shots of beautiful shizzle including but not limited to: Gardens, roses, some other flowers, canyons and mountain views.
Good times.
Next stop: The timely business of beautification, rousing Dub from his bear like slumber and a rehearsal barbecue honoring G and Hobs' imminent wedding fiesta.
The barbecue was hosted by Hobs' gorgeous sister, brother and babes at their magnificent home overlooking Lake Utah. We watched parachute planes descend into fields of wild antelope. Fabulous!
The antelope ran away to a safe distance, sat back and kicked up their heels with a cold one from the Wasatch Brewery and also seem to enjoy the show. They're cool cats those antelope. They seem completely nonplussed to be wearing out their welcome in front gardens or while nibbling away at the farmers' small profit margins.
Can someone google "Antelope Management Utah," and tell me how they keep those critters from taking over the skyways and the highways? Curious minds would like to know!
Too be continued!
