SLC
What with all the drinking and talking and even some work, I tumbled into bed every night, exhausted beyond blogging. Plus, on the first day of my trip, my camera battery died and to my horror I realized my charger was still in Georgia. Pah! Good thing there weren’t many photo moments.
I stayed in the downtown area, blocks from the Temple. The city is laid out in perfect grid with extra wide, sequentially numbered streets, a shocking contrast to the winding, barely named paths of Atlanta.
Walking around downtown felt like exploring an abandoned gold boom town. Boarded up, classical store fronts lined blocks that only trickled with traffic. This is what happens when white flight hits a city filled with only white people, silent desolation follows as all the life takes place in new planned communities.
Speaking of white, the moment I got off the plane I felt exotic. At the baggage claim young blond moms swarmed with young blond children, hardly a brunette to be seen, not to mention any darker pigmentation.
Back to the drinking. All bars in town are private clubs, requiring a membership fee. Four dollars bought us membership to a local establishment and provided the option of inviting up to seven friends to piggyback on our newly found status. Good thing the drinks were cheap and included fun beers like Polygamy Porter.
And with that I came home to house guests and a weekend in the mountains.
