Let's Do This Like Brutus

Utah

Long time no update, eh.
Changed the name. The old one was so damn melancholy.

So our story begins in Whorelando, Florida.
6am. In the airport. Me: shaking and crying.
Actually, I’m doing the shaking. My dad is doing the crying.
My. Dad.

So we’re up at security, and I’m next to hand over my ID and he loses it. Like, the Homeland Security officer is getting concerned. All of the overtanned old ladies who are surrounding me are doing that awful coo thing that we women do, and saying all sorts of shit like, “his little lady is growing up”.
I’m going to puke. Mostly from the pre-flight anxiety.  

Fly to Los Angeles. Nothing remarkable. Just sort of panicky and sweaty, the usual.

Fly to Vegas. During the mercifully short forty minute flight, I look over and see the desert for the first time. I was in awe. 
De-plane. Get to shuttle. Take shuttle to St. George. Get picked up by Company Management. Get to Cedar City.
It’s…quaint. Small Town, USA. The festival essentially puts in on the map. 

I reach my apartment, which sort of looks like a dorm room all grown up. There is a poorly lit kitchen, a strangely placed sitting room, and a hallway of bathrooms and closets and bedrooms. 
I discover that I’m living with this delightful Mormon couple.
No, they are not polygamists, nor have I actually seen any…

The first weekend was a lot of tours and orientations and the usual “Welcome, welcome” song and dance. Saturday night was the big ol’ fashioned Company BBQ where they never let you forget that IT’S THE MOTHERFUCKIN’ 50TH SEASON, Y’ALL. Did you know? Now you do.
All the cool kids (AKA people who look like they drink) are planning on going to Mike’s. Bar one of two in the whole town.
Get into Mike’s. Thank you Leslie.
It’s karaoke night (scaryoke?). And the townies are out to play.
We get aggressively pursued by this one guy that won’t take no for an answer.
Like, I got money swatted out of my hand when I went to go get more booze.
I am 100% okay with free drinks. I am not 100% okay with being told “I have the most purtiest hair in the whole damn bar”.
We have to go.
We have to go NOW. 

Sunday: baby hike.
 

Mostly desert-y in an old western movie sort of way.

The work week then begins. Coffee service: check

Wednesday I get up and get ready. By ready I mean the cat sweater is ON because it’s freakin freezing. I don’t really have a window and I’m all ready to leave the house and I’m greeted by this:

IT’S COMING FROM THE SKY. HOLY FUCKING MOSES.
Everyone is acting totally normal that it’s SNOWING. A LOT. In MAY.
The whole day it was a combo of me being cranky that I was soggy or me being totally enchanted by this winter wonderland. 
The rest of the week progressed with shitty weather and some loose talk about a trip to Zion National Park, the Holy Grail of being outside.