Salt Lake City to Reno, Nevada (518 miles)

I spent my last day in Salt Lake City at my favorite branch, Marmalade, that perfect little honey of a library just minutes from Temple Square and downtown proper. I was there from open to close, writing my face off, and feeling both productive and exhausted at the end of a full day. The library closed at six, so I killed some time driving around, got dinner, and finally headed out to the Bonneville Salt Flats, which are about an hour and a half west of Salt Lake City.

A rainy day ended with sudden sunshine, and I got to experience one of those wonderful double rainbows on my way out of town. Instead of "the awe of nature" or Kermit the Frog or a million other things I could have associated with the sight, I instead thought of my old peeps--one of the may different crews I worked with over the years--who brought the silly Double Rainbow Across the Skyyyy guy (and remix) to my attention back in the day (ye olde 2010). So instead of quiet solitude in the soft light of sundown, in my head I heard dance music and that poor, highly emotional stoner screaming at rainbows as I headed west. Thanks forever, Richard. (I maniacally laugh-cried while listening to "Family Affair" so I'm one to talk, remix 2014, one month sober and feeling all the feelings.)

Highway 80 passes right by the Great Salt Lake, so I got to see it in the most magical light, with the sun setting and the clouds streaming across the reflection. By the time I got to the Bonneville Salt Flats Rest Area, it was full dark. I went to bed (i.e. launched my body into the back of the car) around 8 pm and slept for something like ten hours.

When I woke up the next morning, I was bummed to see that I'd managed to visit the area during one the "flooded" periods. I had wanted to view the flats when they were dry, reflecting the sun and creating that strange flat water appearance like a vast and improbable mirror, so at first I felt a bit grouchy about the whole thing. I brushed my teeth and washed my face and went back out to reassess my surroundings. As you can see, I was being a twerp. It was beautiful...and the sky was giving vivid and winsome cloud formations. Honestly, what more could I have asked for?

On my way to Reno, I stopped in Elko because a sign promised I would find Starbucks there. As it turned out, the Starbucks is located in the Red Lion Casino, which you have to pass through to get to the venti pleasures. It was 8-something in the morning, which is a very weird time to be in a casino in Elko, Nevada. There weren't many people there to begin with--most were in the adjacent cafe eating breakfast--the rest were at the slots, but the majority of the banks and banks of machines stood completely empty, still flashing and hooting their clanging come ons. Card dealers stood at their stations, passing the time with small talk, hands behind their backs--I guess it was too early in the morning for blackjack.

Near Elko, Nevada

What struck me more than anything was that strong, lingering stench of cigarette smoke. I saw no one smoking at that hour, but I'm guessing it is allowed--the law in Nevada is clear on the matter: smoking is banned in businesses except for gaming establishments, specifically casinos. Having distinct memories of blowing smoke in other patrons faces at the local Taco Grande back during high school lunch period, far be it from me to get super hypocritical about smoking now, but I knew it was a trigger for me, so decided to complete my business at the Red Lion with haste.

Not that this stopped me from betting 5 dollars at the few slot machines that had the old fashioned pull handles. I couldn't help myself. Somehow I won the $5 back, which sums up my relationship to gambling in general. Breaking even to a large, yawning Meh.

Cashing out took longer than $5 is worth, and the gristled lady behind the counter seemed drearily annoyed that I didn't know how gambling or pay windows worked. I got my coffee and fled, feeling relieved that this particular addiction was never going to get its hooks in me. I do understand the appeal--I've certainly bought at least 5 lotto tickets in my lifetime whoop whoop--but not the hunger for it, the drive to blow every last dime at the chance, the chance, the chance...it seems more like torture than fun. But then plenty of people think that about alcoholism, too. Like, why can't you just dabble in alcohol? Why does it have to be A Thing? My friend, my girl, my buddyboy, how I wish that could be the case for all of us. But for some of us, the problem is simple. There will never be enough alcohol. It's never enough. If you're not drinking it, you're in fear of not having it, not being able to get it, running out. Even with a full case in the cabinet, there's always an empty glass at the end of it. It's never, ever enough.

I'm sure addicted gamblers feel the same way. Even when they win a jackpot, they have to keep gambling. It is never going to be enough. Insatiable hunger...isn't that one of the circles of hell?

I'm guessing the BM stands for Battle Mountains.
In case you wondered what you were looking at!

Anyway, the rest of the trip was uneventful. I passed through the Battle mountain ranges and found great comfort in all those rolling, soft hills. After the craggy, toothy Rocky Mountains, with their icy, hard peaks and black rock, those calm, smooth hills were a balm on the brain.

As I neared Reno, something started to happen. an unwelcome, though not as yet alarming change in my overall demeanor. For one, my nose started running. For two, I started to feel tired. For three, my stomach shriveled into a cranky raisin. Having started the trip with an unknown ailment (demon possession prob), and only just recovered from the ugliness of altitude sickness, I refused to believe that this was anything more than allergies and road ravages. Driving for 6 hours sounds like a breeze, but you do have to be at attention for the duration--it does wear on a person--and as I approached Reno the flora changed to a greener setting, so maybe, maybe...it was allergies. Had to be.

I checked into my Air BNB (meeting two shy golden retrievers who gave me soft warning boofs before breaking down and coming closer, sniffing my hand, and licking me hello) then headed out for a quick dinner. Nothing sounded good. I ended up getting a sandwich made of Thanksgiving stuff (the Bobbie) at Capriotti's--it was fine. I'm pretty sure I would have loved it if I hadn't felt...off. I went to bed that night with my nose running and running, but hopeful, ever hopeful, that it was just allergies.

I was up early the next day, checking out of the Reno Air BNB and heading off to get coffee and breakfast before driving up into the mountains to check out one of the premier libraries on my main list, Incline Village, which was located in one of the many little towns encircling Lake Tahoe. My head felt stuffed, my lungs felt thick, and still my mind insisted it had to be allergies. As I pulled through the drive through, I turned on CNN. My sense of surreality plunged into the horror house realm...57 dead, 500 wounded in Las Vegas??? An accident? What happened?

One of my first thoughts was of those hotels with high decks and other insane attractions (rollercoaster on a roof, anyone?)--but it turned out to be a mass shooting. Again. I listened to the news as I made my way up the mountain, head filled with smoking straw. After Sandy Hook, what more could there be? There is no level of horror beyond that. I speak only for myself here--and do not mean that there is no horror in all subsequent mass shootings. Of course they are horrifying, But Sandy Hook took a piece of me. I'll never forget watching Laurie Stokes and Ken Rosato on WABC 7 in New York, then the morning and noon anchors, breaking in to report what had happened. How the victims were so little, and how the numbers kept going up and up. There were so many, and they were only six years old.

It's a similar emotion to how I feel about 9/11. A mind can hurdle some pretty terrible things, challenging things, seemingly impossible things. But some things are just too big.

I feel for those that are tormented by this latest atrocity. I wish them peace. I left everything behind at Sandy Hook. I'm sorry these things keep happening, but if hearts, minds, and policies didn't change after of Sandy Hook, they never will.