My day in the old west

Today was cloudy and overcast, and although I could have hiked I didn't feel inspired. Instead, I wanted to putter, take care of a few errands (like grocery shopping and laundry) so I drove into Kanab, the nearest town of any size, about 17 miles to the south.

I went to an optician to see if they could fix my broken sunglasses. After about 20 minutes of searching for the right size screw and then repairing the glasses for me, the owner handed them to me with a big smile and assured me, against my protests, that she wanted no payment. This is when I knew for certain that I was no longer in New York.

Then I went to the post office to mail a package. I was worried that the big envelope I was mailing looked a little raggedy so I asked the postal clerk if he could spare a little tape to reinforce the corners. "Well of course we can!" he said, impersonating a postal clerk in a Norman Rockwell painting, and proceeded to surgically dress my envelope with tape.

I went to the Utah State Liquor Board to buy myself some Jack Daniels for a sip on these chilly evenings; this was my first awkward moment. Going into a liquor store in Utah feels like going behind the door to the porn section in the video store. Only losers and delinquents would have any business there. The lady behind the counter looked so wholesome, making me feel even more dirty for going in there with the intention of purchasing anything. Trying to appear unruffled, I took my Jack Daniels to the register. Just as I was getting ready to leave, a couple of leathery, burned out bikers came in and hastily slung eight jumbo bottles off the shelves and onto the counter. I heard the woman say, "Oh, shit, they've got Amaretto, man!" These were my compatriots.

Please note that we’re only a couple of hours north of Vegas.

Having filled the tank and lovingly washed the dust-covered windshield on my Ford Escape, I headed out of town. Just as I was leaving, I decided to stop in at Frontier Movie Town, a tourist attraction featuring the reconstructed set pieces of numerous westerns that have been shot in Kanab. Clint Eastwood, John Wayne, James Garner once slept in this town. Frontier Movie Town is just beyond the entrance sign to Kanab, which reads, “Welcome to the Greatest Earth on Show!”

Although the signage suggests it’s a museum, Frontier Movie Town is a huge souvenir store with an exceedingly raggedy collection of set pieces in its back yard. You can walk around the dirt lot and look at old log cabins with signs on them telling you what movie they were featured in. Each building bears a sign indicating which part it played in the film, like “The Jail,” and “The Boarding House.” The only one that didn’t have a generic sign was a discreet little place called “Amanda’s” just next to the boarding house. In the window were some lacy undergarments, a corset, and an empty bottle, leading me to conclude that this was the brothel. But I’m just making my best guess here.

I liked the inscriptions on the markers in “Boot Hill,” the graveyard:

“Here liez Mick, shot fer singin to loud in church.”
“Stranger killed. Wrong place. Wrong time.”
“Dancin Dave, that son of a gun. He thot he was fast, he died with his boots on.”
“Two Gun Ray. He was slow that day.”
“Too Thin Leigh. He told the sheriff they would never take him alive. They didn’t!”

And finally, the marker with the simple, “NEXT.”


The gift shop swarmed with a freshly released busload of Japanese teenage girls, who were eagerly buying up beaded necklaces, John Wayne lunchboxes, and hats that turned you into a wolf’s head. (In Wisconsin they have cheese wedge hats; in Utah they have buffalo and wolves’ heads.) Their male teacher stood quietly in the corner, apparently trying to make himself invisible.


******

The Thunderbird lodge, my current place of residence, has been very quiet since it’s so late in the season. Sadly, they shut off the ice machines yesterday; I suppose this is in anticipation of freezing temperatures at night. I’ve barely heard a sound coming from the other rooms, but last night I was treated to some interesting eavesdropping.

In the room below me were a man and a woman, who arranged themselves outside on the patio just below my little deck. They were puffing on cigarettes and generously sharing their cigarette smoke with me. As I listened to their conversation, I was puzzled about how on earth these two had met. Clearly they were not a couple who knew each other well—or at all—as they were filling each other in on the most basic information. Neither one was from this area; one mentioned Iowa, the other "up north." Clearly, they had designs on one another. My question: where on earth did they meet? We’re in Mt. Carmel Junction! It’s not like there’s a bar scene, or for that matter a Starbuck’s or a dog run. I am baffled as to how you would pick someone up in this neighborhood. At the Chevron, filling your tank? (Charlie, it's not that I'm formulating a strategy here; it's just an anthropological curiosity.)

These two did not seem well matched, but I restrained myself from barging in and letting them know. She described herself as a “tomboy,” whose family had always treated her poorly because she was a girl.

She: I was the youngest one of seven in my family, and the only one who ever went to college. They thought I was crazy. What was the use? All I had to do was stay at home, make pies, and pop out babies.

He: Did they help you with college?

She: Hell, no! I paid for it myself! Best thing I ever did.

He: Well, after I left my second wife I figured I’d just stay on my own.

She: You go to college?

He: Didn't see the need. I've always been able to pay my way.

[pause]

She: This drink is making me all giggly!

He: Hey, how about if I put on some music?

[As the music plays, they chat about country music concerts they’ve been to, and how they’re both really over George Strait.]

He: So you left your husband?

She: Damn straight! I mean, I let my daughter have a sip of beer now and then but I caught him giving her hard alcohol! She was just fifteen. That was it. I threw him right out.

He: Nobody never threw me out. I got right up and left! Slept in my truck for three nights before I figured out a place to stay.

She: You have kids?

He: Shit, yes. Every time I have sex, I make a baby. I must have some powerful seed!

[momentary silence]

She: Maybe I’ll have a little more to drink.

He: Well, not every time. But it sure seems like it.

[Slightly hysterical laughter, first from her, then from him joining in.]

Shortly after, they moved inside. They were still communicating, but it was a lot less articulate.

*********

Tomorrow, I leave Mt. Carmel Junction and the Thunderbird and move to Ruby's Inn, where I'll be exploring Bryce Canyon. I'll keep you posted.


NOTE: If you'd like to check out today's photos, clink on the link in the upper right hand corner of this page, or just go to:

http://flickr.com/photos/85265868@N00/collections/72157602776837285/

or you can always search for me at flickr.com under the user name teresastern.