The Stoned Waiter
I wake early in West Yellowstone and spend time travel planning while my travel buddy Alexis sleeps on. We pack late morning, ready for the drive back to Salt Lake City. We walk around the town first, stopping at a café for brunch before hitting the road for the five-hour drive back.
The drive is uneventful and we stop only for refreshments. Close to Salt Lake City, we pull in to a supermarket so Alexis can stock up for her overnight Greyhound journey to Seattle. I grab a few things for my lunchtime ride tomorrow to Boise, Idaho as well. Fully loaded, we take the car back to the airport, jam all the bits and pieces into our bags, and jump on the bus to the bus station.
I’ve arranged to couchsurf overnight in Salt Lake City and my host Patrick meets me at the bus station. Alexis and I say our farewells and Patrick and I catch the above-ground metro back to his place. Patrick has just resigned from his marketing job and is about to move back to Boston to be with his girlfriend. He has done musical theatre, so has dramatic flair, and is fun to talk with. His apartment is a little way out of the centre in a suburb called Sugarshack, or something like that. It’s a nice district, with views of the foothills in the distance.
We dump my bags and head off to a restaurant with an outside dining area. We have similar food tastes, so share a sampler plate with spicy chicken wings, coconut crusted prawns and jalapenos stuffed with cream cheese and herbs. We follow this up with a Black and Blue Salad – blackened Angus beef steak with crumbled blue cheese. We complement this with a few beers…a few for me and a few more than a few for Patrick. The beer in Utah has a maximum allowable alcohol percentage of 3%, so it’s very weak.
We sit talking for quite a while and when Patrick goes to the bathroom, the waiter sits down and starts chatting with me. It’s the wierdo magnet flaring up again. He was not meant to be at work and was spending some time with his grandfather, who only has a few weeks to live. As he is dying of cancer, he is allowed a certain amount of marijuana for medical purposes, to provide pain relief. Seems he doesn’t want to get stoned alone, so gets my waiter friend to join him. Unfortunately, the waiter then gets called in to work to cover for someone who has resigned, so here I am, sitting with a stoned waiter. You have to laugh.
When Patrick comes back we head back to his place and sit on his apartment porch over one more beer before crashing for the night.
Becoming a Relationship Counsellor
Patrick bails out of going into town with me after our late night, but draws me a map, so I’m up early and leave the house at 7.30am. I manage the bus just fine and ask the driver to tell me when we get to the right stop. He agrees and says not to worry as the stops are announced anyway. We drive through town and end up at the transit centre, where I’m the only person left on the bus. I ask him if he’s going to continue to my stop and he wakes up and says “Oh, I forgot your stop.” Great. He asks if I can wait another 15 minutes until he goes again. I only have a limited time to play with, so I indicate this doesn’t really work for me. He instead says I can get on another bus and points it out to me. This driver kindly tell me when to get off.
The main attraction in Salt Lake City is Temple Square, the centre of the Mormon faith. I wander through the courtyard past the main temple, which is reserved for Mormons, and into the visitor centre. I read bits and pieces, but skim over the parts that I find too pious for my atheistic liking. Walking back outside, I’m pounced on by two Mormons, Sister Scott and Elder Scott (I assume married), who offer to show me around. I figure I’ll learn more about the Mormon faith by doing this, so go with them. They take me into the Tabernacle, a large egg-shaped building that was a place for sermons, but is now used more as a concert hall. The pews, columns and balustrades are all made of pine painted to look like other wood types and marble. The acoustics in this room though, are so good that you can hear a pin drop. Literally. Every 15 minutes or so they perform a pin drop to prove the point.
After the Tabernacle we have a quick look in the smaller temple and then move on to an area for contemplation. This room is visually arresting. There is a white plaster statue of Jesus in the middle of the room, and the walls are painted as a galaxy, with planets, moons and stars all around. It’s kind of New Age meets Renaissance. We also walk through a small gallery, filled with paintings from the bible, or more likely the Book of Mormon. Finally, my buddies present me with my very own Book of Mormon, so I can learn more.
I jump back on the bus and make my way back to Patrick’s. As I get close, I book a taxi to take me back to the Greyhound station. Patrick is still in bed when I get back. I wake him up to say thank you and goodbye, and head to the Greyhound station, where I buy my ticket and throw my rucksack into the boarding queue. I still have an hour, so run up to a nearby mall to see if I can find postcards. It’s further away than I thought and quite hot outside, so I work up a sweat, but I find the cards, which will give me something to do on the bus.
The bus to Boise takes around seven hours. I manage to snag two seats to myself and nap to start with, then put together my lunch from the bits and pieces I grabbed at the supermarket yesterday. One ham and cheese croissant, some baby carrots and a few dozen sunflower seeds later, I nap some more. The guy behind me then initiates a conversation. But of course. This is the Greyhound way. He is going to visit his ex-wife and son, who he hopes to reconcile with, despite having two girlfriends in other locations. I give him relationship counselling and we discuss his time in jail the rest of the way to Boise, where he waits with me until my next host, Josh, turns up. He then gives me a big hug as he answers another call from one of his girlfriends.
Josh and I walk to his place a couple of blocks away, chatting the whole way. We hit it off immediately. He is a software programmer, but the company he was working for went bankrupt, so he’s now halfheartedly looking for work while he does up his house and does some local travel. His house is really nice – all hardwood floors and semi-open spaces. We talk for a while and I put some washing on, then we head into town for a bite to eat. I’m not too hungry and Josh has already eaten, so we settle for bar snacks. I have calamari and a local brew. America is full of microbreweries, local brewers brewing boutique beers. Josh gives me a guided tour of downtown Boise before we head back to the house. It;s a pleasant city.
A Balancing Act
After a slow morning, we head around 90 miles down the road to Cascade Lake to meet some of Josh’s ex-colleagues. The lake is like a beach, with sand and a mountain backdrop, and the group is friendly – I’m welcomed immediately, although Josh and I made up a story about how we know each other, rather than trying to explain couchsurfing.
We laze on the sand and Josh and I attempt to ride the jet ski together. It’s a really unstable design, so despite being fine when we start, once we fall off, we can’t get back on. We try and try and try some more. We try every different tactic – getting on one at a time, at the same time to counter balance, Josh first, me first, getting on the side, getting on the back. No matter what we do, the jet ski tips over as soon as both of us scramble on board. After what seems like hours, we’re rescued by another jet skier, who gives me a lift back to the beach. We give up on that one.
Josh then heads out with the men on a little catamaran trip, so I decide to give the jet ski a solo try. Alone it’s easy and I tear up and down the lake, circling the catamaran to show off and managing to get the vehicle skipping over the wake.
By now it is getting late, so we start to pack up. One of the ladies is nervous about sailing over the lake alone, so Josh, myself, John, his daughter Emily, and her friend accompany her on the catamaran. The wind has died down, so it involves a little paddling, but it’s lovely out on the water. When we get back, we load up the catamaran and go up to the shack to say our farewells before the drive back to Boise.
We don’t get back until late and we’re exhausted. I blame the jet ski. We settle for a toasted sandwich for dinner and start watching a movie, but we give up when our eyelids start drooping. I think I like Boise... or maybe I just like Josh.
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