I arrived in Salt Lake City at 8:30 p.m. It was dark, about -10.
I write this sitting in my hostel room. Apparently, the guy who used the room the night before came in at 1 a.m. drunk to the eyeballs and snored so load people heard him through the walls. You can guess my relief when I opened the door and he appeared to be gone. There were two keys for the room and I got one, so the likelihood he is not returning is high. The night is young, though.
Attached is a pic of the room. Not bad.
Now that we have started at the end, let us return to the beginning and frame this story...
I left Calgary at 7 a.m. It was dark, about -10. I took HWY 2 south to Claresholm and then skipped east on the 520 (thanks to Dave Dickenson for the tip). This took me to Lethbridge where I then proceeded to the American border.
Before I go on, let me establish that up until now no one has vocalized their displeasure at my life choice. Kind of you all. That is until I reached the United States of America.
I passed through the border stop and hand the lady my passport. The usual Q and A ensues. A quick breakdown goes something like this:
Q: Where you headed?
A: Salt Lake City for the Sundance Film Festival.
Q: For work?
A: Pleasure.
Q: What is your occupation?
A: Unemployed.
Q: For how long?
A: A day...
Q: A DAY???
Five minutes later, no joke, I'm inside the building filling out customs forms and the like, essentially justifying my being in the country. Naturally, the guy processing my case is a huge, bearded man with a terrifying pair of Buscemi eyes. A quick breakdown goes something like this:
Q: What do you do for work?
A: I'm unemployed.
Q: Are you in the United States looking for work opportunities?
A: Not exactly, no. I plan on working in film so...
Q: How long have you been unemployed?
A: A day.
Q: A DAY???
A: Yes...I quit my job to travel and then find work in film...
The man stares at me. A cold, judging stare. The kind of stare he's given maybe a dozen people in his career. The kind of stare a father gives a son when his teenaged son has just told him, 'Dad, my girlfriend and I are getting married.'
Q:
Most people don't quit their job without work already in line or while actively searching. You can understand how that can be suspicious...
A: (I say nothing. At this point, I'm pleading the fifth simply to avoid any more slipups that aren't actually worth it)
Q: (long pause) Can you please step inside this room? (He points me to a glass-encased holding room) Is there anything we may find in your vehicle that will get you arrested?
A: No.
He locks me inside the holding room, takes my keys and I wait. I watch a biased piece on CNN about gun control in the US (how fitting). He returns ten minutes later. He hands me my keys.
Q: (long pause) ...What's that blue thing from the Running Room for?
A: It's a foam roller. You lay on it to massage muscles.
Q: Oh. Ok, off you go.
And that was my borderland crossing.
The rest of the trip was a cakewalk by comparison. I conservatively filled up on gas twice (on 3/4 empty tank), stopped once for a McD's latte (so superior to our McD offering it hurts), passed 1,892 cars, trucks, and 18-wheelers, saw one hitchhiker do a jig for a ride, alternated my sunglasses half a dozen times, and listened to Bob Dylan's 'Not Dark Yet' as the sun set through Idaho.
*sigh* What a day.
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