Finally out of the familiar strangeness of Cache Valley and hours gone from the warmth of my family’s arms, I pull up again into the street outside Elisa and Nikki’s home. Still processing all the thoughts, hopes, and regrets surrounding my grandfather, I am compelled to sit and experience the night in this city that I once called home. I love the avenues in SLC, especially on a night like tonight. The rain coming down is more of a curtain of mist by this time than the fat drops that have coated the street in this wet lacquer. Thoughts of an old house on 8th South, a small apartment on B Street, beautiful girls and late nights swirl around my head so vivid that for a moment I am almost transported. I have had nights on these streets almost as crazy as any other in my entire life, but in this moment, in this world, there are no dancers, no sirens, no distractions, and I am allowed to dive as deeply as I want into remembrances and fantasies.
Not contented, but tired of the hollow feeling in my gut, I leave the confines of my car and walk slowly through the street to the interior of the home, so as to savor these last few precious moments of relative silence before embarking on yet another hedonistic adventure.
This is a night for introspection. Elisa sits in the front room, music scattered around her like petals from a violated flower, playing her fingers raw again. Nikki walks through the room preparing for the evening ahead, but they are both alone; separated not by angst but simply an understood desire for individual space. It’s nice to see body language at work.
I get some face time with each of them as we are setting up for the evening and it’s nice. I enjoy both of them, so there is no strain, no pressure, just easy ebb and flow. Once Nikki leaves to pick up her people Elisa loosens up a little and we fall back into our routine. Not that Nikki was making Elisa uptight, anything can be a catalyst.
Some clothing changed and a stop by the liquor store to pick up some rum for Violet and we are underway to Park City again. The streets in town are nice, but the canyon gets a little messy; with snow on the ground and more in the air the traffic is by no means conciliatory. Freeway exit, Albertson’s, left, left, park and we have arrived. It’s a nice house, nicer than I would want all these people running around in, but it’s not mine so drink up.
The evening passes with minimal spilled drinks and plenty of fun: a whirlwind of ridiculous conversations, pictures, and entendre. I share the company of girls from Peru, Australia, Scotland, and even more places that my sodden mind didn’t feel like remembering. Games, dancing, drinking; one of the best soirées I have been to in quite some time. Nikki is her vibrant, crazy self and Elisa and I are troublemakers as always. The surprise of the night comes in the form of Violet. A St. George girl primarily, she is up here working at the canyons as a lift op. We bumped into her at Wal-Mart Sunday night and brought her booze this evening, but not a lot of contact between us until now. As the night wanes and people let their guard down she and I end up standing in a sea of strangers, watching the eddies and enjoying the time. Elisa tries to sneak some make-out time with a boy which we promptly break up just for fun. Rounding up the South Africans, having finally extricated Timothy’s hand from his girl’s pants, we abscond away to their house for more drinking games and folly. Violet trying to sober up decides to run the camera and record our general idiocy, which she did a fantastic job of. As wonderful as you look in front of the camera, Violet, you did a kick ass job behind it. A crazed game of musical round robin, A Big Fat Hen and a lot of falling down and laughing later the battery is dead on the camera so we retire it for the evening and commence our own cool down.
Now comes the interesting part of the evening. Trying to get back to my car, call a girl I don’t know, find a house I have never driven to, gain entry and find a bed. Mission Impossible, eat your heart out. Violet and her cleavage in all its splendor get me back to the car. After half an hour of good nights, it’s time for her to go clean up after a dog and me to continue on my journey. Finally getting a hold of Lacy who has been asleep for hours at this point, I get some mumbled directions and I’m off like a shotski. Gaining entry to the house through the unlocked front door is no problem. I think I locked it behind my but who can be sure of things at this point. I make my way upstairs, in hopes that this is in fact the correct house and I am not going to be shot and killed for committing a felony. The first door I try has a bed, albeit with someone in it already; No Problem. Clothing hits the floor, head hits the pillow, and it is sand and sheep till 8 am.
Waking up to Nikki is a great thing. Not so much of a morning person that she is chipper to the point of eliciting homicidal impulses, but able to make conversation and cuddle a little bit for body heat. So we slowly get ready for the day, make our way downstairs to search for something edible. Thank god these people have orange juice, a little sugar and some re-hydration to make me feel normal again. We’re having fun looking around the house at their pictures and playing with their hamster when I realize I am painfully hungry. A quick search of the fridge runs up some great looking salsa, however no chips are to be found. I would love to start cooking but I’m struck by the thought that I have not seen Lacy yet this morning, and I really have no business being here. On my way out to warm up the car I take a few moments to look at the nights work in the new fallen snow, my engine caused it to melt in funny patterns on the hood so I grab a couple of pictures on the failing battery of the camera and fire it up.
Thanks again Nik for the warm intimacy of friendship on a cold morning. I have rarely felt as comfortable with someone as I do when I am around you. You made our time together seem easy; as if it were our daily routine to laugh and joke around the breakfast table. You made it feel like we were exactly where we needed to be in the universe in those precious few hours. That’s something I have felt sparsely and at extreme intervals, and I am thankful for it more than you can know.
I’m able to trace the route I so hazily remember from the evening before to take Nikki back to her car with little incident. We both had a small scare coming back around the last corner to where her car was when we couldn’t see it at first. However, it was there and she was soon safely on her way back to town. Now, to go see my sister and get on the road before it gets too late.
The Canyons is a paradise to me. Huge mountains on all sides, predominately covered in snow even at this late point in the year, it holds a chill beauty that makes you want to sell everything you own, buy a board and some survival gear and never look back. After so many months within a stones throw of L.A. and frequenting Vegas, the air quality at the canyons is enough to make me euphoric; I can’t get enough of it. Wandering around smelling and staring I almost walk right past my sister coming the other way. Luckily she is paying enough attention to pull me out of the way of oncoming human traffic and we wander around trying to fix her scanner before she needs to be in place. Elisa, I love you!
I’m pretty damn cold at this point and head out to get hot chocolate from the starbucks outpost downstairs. I feel a lot like Little Orphan Annie walking around in the lobby of this place; it’s farking huge! I get my order placed and I’m staring rather rudely at the guy making it for me because he is so familiar. After a couple perfunctory question and answers I realize he is the guy who found my camera and returned it to me the night before at the party. We laugh and joke about how much fun we had and how tired we are before I have to go back to Elisa. God it feels good to be able to talk to people. I forget that Southern California’s plastic people don’t rule the world. I forget that they are this tiny little infection that is happy to sit and undermine the moral fabric of Los Angeles and the surrounding areas. I forget that the rest of the world is still worthwhile and not everyone has exterminated their emotions entirely. Blame it on the residual haze of alcohol from the prior evening’s endeavors, but I love this place.
I get a few minutes to sit and talk with my sister between tickets after the initial rush passes through. Sharing a hot chocolate for warmth we laugh about the night’s activities and try not to chuckle at the people slipping and sliding on the morning’s ice and snow. We embrace and I’m back on my trip around the west coast. I have just under ten hours to make it to Las Vegas; no problem. Phone calls, broken speed limits, and hundreds of miles later I’m pulling up to Natasha’s house for an impromptu lunch and possibly a massage. Natasha has a massage table in her house, and I have been dying to be one of her customers forever, but never quite gotten around to it. I really like her family, even though I have only had a couple of occasions to spend time with them. Everyone has disappeared for the afternoon running their individual errands and so we are alone on the patio with the sunshine and a sumptuous meal. She made steaks, spinach salad with vegetables from her garden, and asparagus. Today is going to be a day of firsts for me as I have never eaten asparagus or radishes, the latter of which are contained within the salad. The verdict? Not bad. I liked the asparagus with some salt and butter, and the salad was so good I was hard to separate the radishes from the rest of it by taste. I tried a couple on their own and they were ok, not my favorite, but not unpalatable by any measure. My steak was delicious, Natasha’s was a little thicker and so had not quite cooked all the way through; c’est la vie. Lunch eaten and cleared away, we get some time to sit on the couch and enjoy one another’s company. Natasha is another person who has a great ambiance. Easy to spend time with and be close to, she is one of my favorite people to simply share space with. After a while of letting the food settle and half-sleeping on the couch my black shirt is covered with tan lint, looking more noon than midnight. Face time with the mom and sisters, a trip around town, oil change, car wash, and I am once again underway. I won’t make Vegas by 5, but I’ll be there by 6; An acceptable compromise for homemade food and the presence of a wonderful young lady.
