Monday, May 9, 2016

Solo In St. George

I spent last weekend alone.  I didn't plan it that way, but it's how it ended up.  I caught an Uber to the airport, hopped a flight to St. George and spend the weekend doing whatever the hell I pleased.
Although I'd do it again, I felt pretty out of sorts most of the time.  Case in point, the Uber ride.

First of all, if you're an Uber driver, I feel like there should be some sort of rule in place that states your vehicle is to transport customers to their desired location.  It is NOT your own personal date trap where you scout out potential future exes.

While sitting in the back seat, my phone is pinging, dinging and ringing.  I glance at it and sigh.  Mr. Uber comments, "That sounds like a frustrated with the husband kind of sigh".
While scrolling through the texts and without glancing up I respond, "Boyfriend, and yes".

Mr. Uber is in his mid 30's, a big buff ex-marine with a shaved head and strong opinions.  He starts in on the small talk which quickly morphs into one-sided awkward flirting.  He asks where I'm going and states I should have chosen Vegas instead.  I tell him I'm pregnant so I can't smoke, or drink and I'm not much into hookers.

He then launches into a diatribe about his 35 year old friend who recently told him she wants to have children one day which he found ridiculous.  "At her age?  That's just irresponsible.  If she'd wanted to have children she should have started that shit years ago but sorry Sister, that ship has sailed.  She'll probably end up with one of those downsy kids or something."

I stare wide-eyed out my window while he blathers on about how he couldn't understand why she thought he was such a jerk.

One of life's great mysteries. 

He pulls up outside the Delta terminal and I bail before he's come to a complete stop.  I thank him, grab my bag from the trunk and head in without a backward glance.

As I'm checking my bag, my phone rings.  A Park City number I don't recognize.  I hit ignore and start heading towards the escalator that will take me to the security line.  I usually shuffle along staring at my feet but I happened to glance up and see a vaguely familiar man on the escalator up ahead staring at me and holding something in the air.

Is he looking at me?  What the hell is he holding?  It takes me a moment to realize it's charming Mr. Uber and he has my keys, which I'd clearly left on the backseat in my rush to exit the vehicle of age discrimination.

He waits for me at the top and I dig a $20 out of my laptop bag to say thank you.  He takes the twenty then goes in for an unsolicited bear hug.  He then holds me in place at arms length while staring into my eyes and states, "If things don't work out with you and the boyfriend, you have my number.  I tried to call you when I saw your keys."  I give him a watery smile and extricate myself from his oversized grasp while wondering how much attention I would draw if I were to make a sudden bolt towards security.

I eventually make it to St. George, jump in the rental and head towards my hotel, Inn on the Cliff.  It was beautiful and the view overlooking St. George was stunning.

Photo Credit

Photo Credit
It was definitely a new and strange experience being on a mini-vacation on my own.  I called all the shots.  I did what I wanted without having to check with the group majority to make sure everyone was getting to do something they enjoyed.
I went shopping, I got my nose pierced, I slept in, I wandered around, I got lost, I visited a turtle sanctuary, I meandered around the St. George LDS temple grounds without getting struck by lightening.

St. George LDS Temple

Obligatory vacation selfie.


My last morning there, I had breakfast delivered to my room and sat in the sunshine on my balcony while watching a hot air balloon drift by.  I drove back to the airport with the sunroof open and hair whipping across my face.
I wasn't excited to get back to Salt Lake but I didn't want to stay in St. George either.  If I'd had my trusty little mutt Milo by my side, I just may have headed off into the sunset, Thelma and Louise style.

Minus the suicide.