Still Peeing

 

  As we continued on our journey towards the Grand Canyon, we moved along through the great state of Utah, peeing as we went.  We stopped to take a leak near an old corral. Extra, extra, read all about it, Liz takes a whiz in Virgin. We made it to Springdale, before we stopped again. I can't remember how far away it was, but probably not that far. Surprisingly, I didn't have to go. The girls declared I had a bladder the size of a watermelon, which of course we know isn't true. More like the size of a large grape.

Even though there are things like Google Maps and regular maps on the internet, somehow, we figured that if we went down to Zion National Park, close to the town of Hurricane, we could meander up to Arches near Moab in a few hours. Of course we were wrong, not surprisingly. Instead of returning the way we had come, we spent two nights in Hurricane. The girls hiked for the better part of a day in Zion, and later we all took the car to a different part of the park that was just breathtaking. I wish we could have spent more time there. The rock formations were outstanding and the colors were vibrant. 

On our way to the park, we passed a tourist attraction that was closed, but we pulled into the parking lot anyway and looked around. There was some kind of cactus growing, and Jen claimed that there was a bird in amongst the plant. Sure enough, we spotted it and discovered it was a road runner. The only thing missing was Wile E Coyote  and a container of ACME dynamite.

While packing our vast number of suitcases onto a cart at the hotel in Hurricane as we were leaving, somehow Baby, the watermelon, fell from the uppermost stack and split open, never having been tasted and tested for quality. There was no funeral, just an undignified dumping into the trash can for the maids to deal with. What a shame.

Having eaten the complimentary breakfast at the hotel after night one, we decided that a real breakfast was in order before we set out for Arizona. I had seen a local restaurant that looked appealing and we pulled in. It was the Rooster Run restaurant, and I was delighted with our choice. The interior was decorated with all manner of art and every day things that by themselves aren't especially special, but when paired with other every day items and displayed tastefully, become art. It was delightful. Our waitress, whose name was Celeste, did a wonderful job, and I wanted to remember her, so she agreed to let me take her picture.

Should you find yourself in Hurricane, Utah, do yourself a favor and drop in at the Rooster Run. If you do, please tell Celeste I said hello.

After a few more stops for the girls to go shopping, we made our way to Colorado City and took a pee at Bees, a nice market. We stood out like a sore thumb, with the girls wearing shorts and the local ladies wearing long, pastel dresses and the boys in dress shirts and trousers. They even had a couple of young lads in the parking lot sweeping up the sand that blows constantly there. No doubt it's a full time job.

We stopped again in Fredonia Arizona at a little gas station that appeared to have been around for years and years. I stopped inside and inquired about a restroom and the two ladies informed me that that there was no place to pee on the inside, but around the corner on the outside there was a men's room. I was glad I wasn't going to have to fight rattle snakes or scorpions in the desert in order to find relief. When I came back inside, I heard the girls laughing. They were standing around a display of signs. There were all manner of hilarious signs, and I couldn't resist buying one myself. As the sign says, "It's all fun and games until someone loses a wiener."  Boy, isn't that the truth?

There was also a sign advertising Polygamy Porter- Why have just one? Hmm, good question.

Amongst the many things on display, I saw up on a shelf a yellow/green can that apparently contained some Spotted Dick. Of course my mind immediately went to a coarse image before I remembered that it's a British pudding. I checked it out on the internet and found that it's a traditional British steamed pudding that has currents in it and is served with custard. Even with that in mind, I don't think I would care for any, no offense to my British friends.

We left there and headed toward our primary destination, The Grand Canyon. We stopped twice on our way to the watchtower in the canyon, once on the side of the road so I could relieve myself in a bunch of pine trees. It was quite satisfactory. I'm more comfortable peeing outside with nature all around me. 

At some point as I was driving, a camper pulled up behind me on the steep and winding road we were traveling, and was mere feet from ramming in to the back of the car. I was going at least the speed limit, and perhaps a little more, but the guy was determined to tailgate me. He finally found a spot of straight road and passed me in a rush. I can't stand people who tailgate, so I stomped on the gas and stayed on his tail for a half mile or so before letting up and resuming a  normal pace.  It seemed like a good Christian thing to do. As fate would have it, a few miles down the road there was a large pull out with a panoramic view that had to be photographed. The same camper was pulled in to the parking area, so we pulled a hundred yards or so in front of it. We all piled out and got pictures and stretched our legs and the lady from the camper came over and offered to take a family photo of us all. She was very friendly and we spoke for five minutes or so, while her husband hung back at the vehicle with the dog. It was just as well, we were on this trip to have fun, not to confront people we didn't agree with.

From there we moved on, getting ever closer to our residence for the night, The Red Feather Inn.