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.