I rolled into Salt Lake City at 6am, three hours later than
anticipated. Though this should come as
no shock by now, the lateness of the trains is beginning to wear thin. Having just spent the night intermittently
sleeping, I had no real thought on my mind other than getting to Kelley and
Lewis’ so I could wash off the stink I felt permeating my body and hop into a
real bed for a little cat nap.
Exiting the train I did a little research and realized that
their house was only a couple of miles from the station. Seeing no cab conveniently waiting, I decided
to hoof it.
Bad idea.
Taking a wrong turn immediately outside of the station, the GPS
of Google maps not recalculating accurately enough due to my slow amble, I
added 15 minutes to my walk before I even got started in the right
direction. Finally off for what I knew
to be a comfortable sleep I listened to the eerie silence of a city just waking
up.
I imagined Salt Lake to be a quiet town full of kindness and
homogeneity, so I wasn’t worried about trekking across blocks and blocks of
downtown with countless dollars worth of gear and equipment. Thankfully, at least at the present time of
day, I had little to worry about as I saw no more than five people walking
during my whole trip and all them gave me a curious look as they meandered
about their way.
Though I expected a city booming with the comfortable life I
expected out of a town founded on religion, I learned over the course of the
week that Salt Lake has a bit of a welfare issue. It turns out being known for snow and ski
resorts means that more than a fair share of people come here believing that
the can make it as a ski bum. I don’t
know if it’s a lack of awareness that winter, even in Utah, only lasts a few
months, or if they figured the glory and fame there were sure to gain from
skiing was to pay for the remaining 8 months, but most if not all of them just
ended up being bums.
Perhaps it is because I spend so much time in a town that
pretends to be a city, or that my treks to other booming metropolis’ included cities with citizens indistinguishable as anything other than bums, but never
in my days have I seen so many people in their early adulthood who look like
they just came from the making of a meth commercial. Holding onto what I can only imagine to be
teen years filled with angst and turmoil, the amount of skater clothing, worn
out hoodies and missing teeth made me curious as to whether there was an
epidemic of monstrous proportions being kept secret.
Now, don’t get me wrong, Salt Lake City is one of the most
beautiful areas I have ever visited.
Surrounded on all sides by mountains full of snow and a body of water so
big you would think the valley is flooding, Salt Lake is a town nestled in a
part of the country where finding God’s work shouldn’t be too hard. Yet, even for the ever present church, or
perhaps because of the overriding kindness of its churchgoers, I left the city
wondering how so many people can exist solely by sucking off the teat of
others.
I came away from the whole experience thankful in many ways
for my upbringing, yet a little saddened to realize that, as I age, I seem to
become more and more jaded. Though I am
one of the first to admit that I have neglected the whole “growing up” thing, I
still believe that, once an individual hits their mid twenties, they should
have the ability to provide for themselves.
It seems that too many of the people I came across longed to hang on to
the freedom and simplicity their teenage years provided. Who knows though, maybe many of them never
moved out, for most of them surely have yet to move on.
This thought process saddens me though because, even though I
know that some of these people truly have very little value, their lives a
constant cycle of expectation and taking, I do not truly know any of them. It is in this thought process that I realize
that I have become, at least in that moment, the elitist I despise.
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