Thursday, June 28, 2012


Yesterday I went down to Provo.  See, one of my friends was leaving forever, and when one of your friends is leaving forever, you can't just NOT travel down to Provo . . .

I normally don't not travel down to Provo, because when school is in session I travel down there several times a week.   But school is not currently in session, so I have been not traveling down to Provo most of the time this summer.

(Those of you who know what time I went to bed last night are currently nodding knowingly)

However, as you all probably know by now, I will soon begin not traveling to Provo on a more or less permanent basis.  Unless I want to, of course.  But I may never travel to Provo again after I graduate if I keep getting welcomes like the one I got yesterday.

The 801 was late, because we hit stop-and-go at about 1300 South and were unable to travel unfettered by traffic thereafter.  We got stopped near 106th.  We got stopped just before University Parkway.  I could have told you that that would happen without even getting on the freeway.  Someday, I will watch it happen from the inside of a FrontRunner train, and my maniacal laughter will greatly alarm those in my immediate vicinity.  You've been warned.

Because the 801 was late, I missed the 833, which was supposed to take me to where I was actually going.  Not feeling like waiting another forty-five minutes, I began walking the 12 blocks the 833 would have taken me.  Until I got to the intersection of University Avenue and 100 South.  There was what appeared to be a lunchbox that had fallen out of someone's truck in the middle of the road.  And what appeared to be about six police cars.  As I approached the crossing, a policeman shouted at me:


which might have been a valid concern if we had been anywhere else.  Anywhere.  But not Provo.  I felt like shouting back


but I bit my tongue.  I crossed the street three times instead of one.  I continued on my way, despite the fact that the sidewalk was torn up a few hundred feet further down the road, so I had to cross the street two more extra times, then walk 12 blocks.  I was rather cross by the time I arrived at my friend's house.  Fortunately, circumstances such as this lead me to often be grumpy by the time I get to my destination, so all my friends are used to it.  I judge my continued ability to function in polite society by the fact that my friends keep inviting me places.

This morning, I scoured several news outlets trying to find mention of the horrible bomb scare in downtown Provo.  KSL didn't have it.  Deseret News didn't have it.  I finally found a short article about it in the Daily Herald, which stated that -- gasp -- the questionable lunchbox did not contain a bomb.  Again, I could have told you that before I left home yesterday.  Not that anyone was asking.

This experience has provided me with a clarity I did not expect about my ambivalent feelings toward Provo.  I have many genuine, good, dear friends in Provo, to whom I owe very much.  This includes college students as well as longtime residents of Provo.  I had many good experiences there.  But Provo is full of busybodies.

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