day 2: las vegas, nv to herriman, ut

‘it’s a dangerous business going out your front door. you step onto the road and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.’
-j.r.r. tolkein

we left the hotel early, thankfully, and only had to shake one jacketed hotel flunky on our way to the car. we were in no mood for breakfast, and left the city forthwith. we stopped in mesquite in search of coffee, but the only café around was located in a casino with geese wandering the absurd swaths of green that set the place apart from its desert surroundings (more fantasy). as we walked through the game room m pointed out a row of star wars-themed slot machines and r immediately sat himself down and declared ‘star wars gets a ten-spot!’ after a quick high of $11.04 he plummeted straight down to ¢.29, gathered his ticket amidst a chorus of fake plinking sounds and walked away grinning.

the first sign to advertise zion national park took hold of our imaginations and we decided to make the detour. m hadn’t seen it since childhood and r had never visited. it was a slow crawl on the red roads through hurricane and virgin (obviously a town of endless comic potential) into the park. we shuttled in on buses plastered with ominous signs that mocked the unwary adventurer (‘think you can outrun a flash flood?’ taunted the ad, ‘try outrunning this!’ the picture beneath showed a wall of deadly debris—all manner of tree stump, bush and boulder—hurtling toward the camera with a terrible inevitability). since we had time for only one hike, we chose a quick 2.5 up to the lower emerald pool and, as usual, per m, took the back way (ie the uphill march) into the trail. the canyons were stunning and, apparently, overrun by germans and a smattering of french. we reached the waterfall wondering at the scarcity of spaniards and stood beneath the water. at one point, m burst out laughing and it echoed off the canyon walls loudly enough to shatter, irreparably, r’s tranquility.

we left the park in the afternoon and, though we saw a small ‘used & rare’ bookstore adjoined to the virgin post office, it had already closed for the day and m was, sadly, unable to begin her tour of a dying breed in america: the independent.

(here follows an account the sensitive follower may wish to skip)

THE MISHAP (R’s version): We were somewhere in the middle of Utah, having just left the desert. The scenery was new – green – for the first time since leaving our over-watered Southern California. Mandy had just dozed off after the park. I don’t think I actually fell asleep, I just sort of paused in active participation. The road growled at me; I’d drifted onto the rumble strips. I panicked, and over-compensated my driving. The car took over its directional movement from that moment on. Mandy awoke to me shouting ‘whoa, whoa.’ At one point we were perpendicular to the highway, veering off the roadway. Those skinny poles that the snow plows use to indicate the edge of the road? Yeah, I took one out. With my driver side door. The car stopped in a cloud of dust, in the ditch that divides the highway. I remembered to breathe at that point. Three people stopped to see if we were ok. Gosh, those Utahns are real nice. I started the car, tried to climb out of the ditch vertically, then had more success easing it up. We were soon back on the highway, and perfectly fine. Except for that ding on the driver’s door . . .

DUKES OF HAZARD (m’s version): sometimes, as a passenger, my eyelids get so heavy i can’t resist the urge to close them: road hypnosis. during one such light snooze i awoke to a violent rumble and a heady, wide fishtail. ‘whuz happenin’..?’ i managed to grog the instant before i realized that we would not recover control, that the road had taken us up into its great, indecipherable will. we were traveling perpendicular to the road at astonishing speeds, and for a bare moment i thought, “glide.” then we were off the road, taking clean out a metal reflector pole with the driver’s side door and kicking up a cloud of dust such that i only knew we were headed ditchwise by the sudden sink. just when i began to prepare to roll, the car came to a sudden, powdery stop, and our column of dust drifted soundlessly down. i left the car trembly and disoriented and circled around to r, scattering whole flocks of crickets from the spongy ground of the median with each step. assured that r was alright, i looked around. we were face up on a steep hill, and a south-bound semi was braking to a stop across the way. a man was walking toward me, his pulsing red emergency lights assuming a ponderous significance to me. if i could be allowed to focus on these lights for awhile, all my uproar would settle among this dust and these crickets. i told the man we were alright and thanked him for stopping. when i turned the other direction two more men were walking toward us, their hazard lights blinking in the distance. they helped us push the car and after one false start, we were safely topside, the only damage a tell-tale monster dent on our door and one less reflector pole on the interstate.

we trundled to dinner in nephi in china town, the last restaurant on main st before the agriculture kicks in, but there was no wine available to douse our frazzled nerves. as for dinner, the won-ton soup was a bit too salty, the sesame chicken a bit too fried, but the spicy kung-pao beef was hot without sacrificing a certain delicacy of flavor, and therefore right on the money. we pulled into m’s sister amy’s house in herriman a touch after ten where m proceeded to eat a glob of black food-coloring gel and render herself totally undesirable for the rest of the night.