This afternoon we arrived in Salt Lake City. Incidentally, the vast majority of the roads here are named things like 2050 East or 1700 West. This is so because the whole of the city is mapped out according to its distance from the Mormon Temple at its center. Curious.
We also learned that July is historic for Utah, because as of the first of this month, one of the age old prohibition-era laws were lifted. Up until this month, bars were called “private clubs” and you had to buy a membership to enter one. Now, all the private clubs have been turned into public places. The City Paper–full as City Papers are of witticisms and peppered with inappropriate things–made a big to-do of the new Alcohol Freedoms in Utah. They’d almost titled the Issue, “Utah: Boldly stepping into the 1940’s.”
In other news, I sampled a most fantastic diner this evening called The Blue Plate. I went alone to the Diner while Lu went with her friends to play mini-golf. (Let it be known that although I am a golfer I am a horrible sport at Mini-Golf. I always lose.) Outside the diner there were some broken down but lovely old bicycles. I wondered if they were intentionally part of the decor. I took some Holgas.
Inside they played Johnny Cash, Sgt. Peppers, Michael Jackson, and some unknown buzzy rock. I sat near a corner, began part of a really gorgeous Frederick Buechner novel, and ordered a coffee and Eggs Benedict. It was a win, all around.
Oh, I am reading the Buechener memoir you gave me for graduation. It is my second of his (both from you), and I really like him.