Idaho Falls Public Library, Idaho Falls, ID

The drive from Craters of the Moon to Idaho Falls was relatively short, only about an hour and a half (85 miles), but it gave me the opportunity to drive through Arco and document some mountain scarring that I couldn't help but like, as much as I tend to despise mountain scarring in its modern form. I mean, if they were beautiful drawings, fine, but a big "M" in block letters? Whhhyyyyy.

From a distance...

And close up.

Per Wikipedia (what else), the marking of Number Hill is to commemorate each graduating class of Butte County High, a tradition dating back to the 1920s (x). The numbers are painted, so I figure they must do some maintenance to preserve the older years, but it's actually quite a sight when you happen upon it. You know how precious those acts of permanence can be. It reminds me of my high school, how every year the seniors go up into the tower to write their names. It is also a tradition to go up and see if you can find your name during the 20th reunion festivities. I didn't bother because I never went up to write my name in the first place. Because I was a first rate badass and general hellion from Helltown.

Nah, I was just chicken to go up the narrow stairs. C'mon. But my meek and mild teeny dreams were to be Stephanie Zinoni in the leather jacket with the cool, cool, cool, cool rider, so yeah I nerded pretty hard.

Middle Butte.

Along the way I also passed some impressive buttes, feel free to mispronounce that as you see fit. The funny part is that the sign makers for said buttes were also seven years old, since the official names are Middle Butte and Big Southern Butte, but of course the sign just says BIG BUTTE. Like, what are you supposed to do with that. Just let it go?

Big Southern Butte, the Biggest of Buttes.

No. You stop and take pictures of the BIG BUTTE and you laugh because we are all collectively stupid and thank God for that because it is something and we have to hold on to these ridiculous connections because nothing much feels like common ground anymore. Not in this political climate.

By the time I arrived at the Idaho Falls Public Library, it was well into the afternoon and I was finally calmed down from my earlier offroading debacle through the badlands of the Craters of the Moon. The Idaho Falls Library had the biggest parking lot of any I'd encountered so far, but every spot was marked with a 2 hour limit, which seemed a bit over-the-top to me. I checked with the library staff and they confirmed it wasn't a real threat and not to sweat it.

The Idaho Falls Library is an older building--my guess was the 70s and a quick call to the library confirms it: 1977. What a year. That's the year I lived with the crazy people in Texas, learned about corporal punishment in kindergarten, and Star Wars came out.

More library dragons!

I knew I was in for a fun, quirky, hyperweird experience when I entered the main doors and saw that the foyer was recessed, down a flight of stairs, into the earth. I am sure there is a rhyme and reason to it, but it seemed like one of those extraneous details in design that architects pull when they are trying to be edgy. And then it got even better.

When patrons enter the building and walk past the main circulation/information area, they find a massive spiral walkway that circles around an atrium complete with koi ponds. The whole area screams 1970s shopping mall and I was seriously finding my bliss. It was ridiculous, insane, and amazing.

I made my way up to the third floor, where the wifi was alleged to be the strongest, and found a work space against a glass wall that faced that weird dropped foyer. While I had a whole bank of windows in front of me, my view was mostly blocked by the aggressively overwrought structure so busy chasing its tail it forgot about practicality and settled solely on nonsensical form. I am sure many find this annoying, but I especially treasure buildings made from Stone Cold Crazy. And libraries are even better because they require a Collective of Crazy to be conceived of, approved, and to be built at all. It is glorious.

The library knocked themselves out injecting as much color as they could through the oak-bland aesthetics likely original to the structure. But there were still lingering oddities that 21st century paint couldn't cover, like the corner of the 3rd floor with motion censors that kept turning off the lights even though there were people there. If I believed in ghosts, I would be sure one resided in the walls of the Idaho Falls Public Library.



I couldn't really hear the water feature from my spot on the 3rd floor, but after a bathroom run I decided to try out the second floor and was able to hear it from there. It was an odd sensation, being in a fluorescent bathed world of late 70s furniture, fully ensconced because it was full dark by then, the harsh light of the library shutting out the night...and shutting us in, with that strange, sprinkling sound. It was disjointed and unnatural, like every portrayal of a sophisticated survival bunker. You'd be grateful for it should the need ever arise, but would be counting the days from the minute you stepped into that false light. It was time to go.

One more word about Idaho. specifically: Idaho rest stops. Overnight sleeping is allowed, but is restricted to 8 hours. This is not the only state that does this. The difference, in this case, was how many people actually use the rest stops to sleep overnight. You'll recall my first rest stop was disconcerting due to the low population of the place on the night I was there. Well. This time I was going to sleep at at the Big Lost River rest area outside of Arco almost an hour west of Idaho Falls...and there was no one there.

 My view from the third floor desk, staring straight ahead then to the right.

I sat in my car for about 45 minutes and one or two cars drove by...but no one stopped. It was completely deserted, awash in that same, cold light as the library had been. When I got out to use the facilities I encountered a silence I simply could not bear. It was quiet. Too quiet.

So Fuck That™. I went back to Idaho Falls because I remembered passing a Love's Travel Stop at one point. I'd been resistant to the idea but it was closing in on midnight and I was out of options. Let me tell you something: I was wrong. The shop was lovely, bright--fluorescent, but this time like the surface of the sun--and occupied by humans. Truckers and cars alike, all there with the same purpose of getting rest for the night. I felt safe and slept like a dang baby. And! Easy coffee in the morning! And a clean, nice smelling place to wash my face, brush my teeth, and get a civilized start to my day.

Love's Travel Stops are amazeballs. You heard it here first.