Atlanta, GA :: Murphy, NC I have always been overly intense about school, even from an early age. I remember during middle school my cousin got married and instead of taking the opportunity to miss a week of school to go to Utahrd for the wedding, I chose to stay at home because I was afraid of getting behind in classes. I was a strange child, and I don't think much has changed. This year, I decided to ditch my goody-two-shoes act and live on the wild side: I decided to leave town early for Thanksgiving Break. Gasp! That would include me missing 2 days of scheduled classes. Holy mackerel, Batman! But I didn't care. I wanted to for sure be home for Thanksgiving, unlike the emotional turmoil I dealt with last year trying to get out of Salt Lake. *SLC Airport is literally a blackhole, no one can get in and they don't let anyone out. Ever.*
As soon as I flew into the blessed humidity, my mother hurried me off to hear a special Gladys Knight concert. I'm a big fan of creepin' on people, and just standing in line outside the chapel reminded me how much I miss and love ATLiens. Such flavor in fashion, demeanor, and language. Mmmm, mmm, mm. Nothing like it nowhere. I am not a woman of many tears, if any. I can literally count on the amount of fingers I have how many times I have cried in my life. Listening to Gladys Knight and her sweet soulful choir brought tears of joy to my eyes. *They did not leave my eyes though, so that does NOT count as crying.*
Let me paint the scene: We're in an LDS chapel, and for those of you who have ever been in one you know that the rowdiest it gets in there is when babies scream their bloody heads off. This was not the case. Imagine a room full of black Baptists/Methodists/Episcopalians/Etc, with a handful of white people interspersed, standing and clapping and rocking out to the sweet, sweet gospel tunes of The Saints United Voices (Gladys' choir). Then picture spunky little Gladys strolling down the aisle in a fierce red blazer, being mauled by adoring fans. It was cray-cray the entire time.
All I know, is that when I die I will be in Gladys Knight's heavenly choir. It wasn't the fact that it was Gladys Knight (even though she is unbelievable. She is how old and belting out and riffing like nobody's business? Get it sista-friend). It wasn't the fact that she tamed a choir of mega voices into a creature which beckoned at her every will and sway (I kid you not, the dynamics she had that choir perform were insane perfection). And it wasn't the fact that the songs sung are as old as the spirituals sung by the slaves in the cotton fields here in Atlanta (even though they have a mystical power which always touch one's core). It was the fact that Gladys was bearing her testimony of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints targeted towards a black audience, in the most unassuming, inoffensive, humble way possible. And it wasn't Gladys alone, but her friend who brought her into the Church and her husband, Malcolm (better known as Gladys' husband). You felt her love and her friendship, but she was bold and direct and a power house. My next major goal in life is to become her best friend. Honestly, one of the most incredible experiences of my life.
Stephen invited me up to his Aunt Nancy's cabin up in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Who woulda thunk that a mere 2 hours away from Atlanta resided beautiful and serene mountains? We picked up a motley crew and entertained ourselves on the drive up by claiming and killing off animals we saw alongside the road. It got so intense we started targeting fake ones too.
The cabin was a dream come true. In the middle of the Blue Ridge Mountains, secluded from society, surrounded by green. I truly don't understand why everyone is so obsessed with the grandeur of the mountains in Utahrd. Sure, they're bigger but they lack the majestic awe that is only found within a canopy of trees. We got on the roof of the cabin and just admired how the Blue Ridge Mountains came to be named: there is a blue hue that covers the green evergreens of the mountains and it looked especially incredible that day because it was overcast, feeling the calm before the storm of the evening arrived.
All we did was chill and jam on guitars and harmonica all night as we swung (and plucked like a bass, haha genius Patrick) on the hammock and listened to the rain outside. And that was just perfect in my book.
Final product of delish!
Patrick rockin' the Hammock-Bass, while Steve introduces me to "Wagonwheel"
There's nothing like fresh mountain air, some good tunes, and of course, the company of lovely friends.
One of my characteristic flaws is that when life gets too
chaotic, I head out and seek a change of scenery. After a jam-packed week of
school crap, social crap, and life crap, I needed a change of scenery in the
worst way possible. After my
first midterm had been completed, I sent a desperate message to sweet baby
Scott Ogden describing my need to escape the Provo Hell-hole. So what was his
suggestion for a road trip? The modern-day Sodom and Gomorrah itself: Las
Vegas.
My only desire was to have the absolute sketchiest road trip
imaginable. If that included sleeping in a Wal-Mart parking lot, getting
married in a little white chapel, or any of the shenanigans outlined in The
Hangover, I would welcome it all with open arms. About
halfway through the week, I came to the realization that my big sis, Sister JMack, was serving in the last week of her LDS mission right by Las Vegas. So, I
texted her dad and asked if he could find out her schedule for that upcoming
Saturday. He had her email me her schedule and I forwarded it to Scott to see
if we could make this part of our Vegas plan. Scott was down with it and we
added it to the 25 Top Free Things in Vegas list.
Friday afternoon rolled around at a snail’s pace, as all
things you long for do, but nevertheless it came. We headed to Smith's to get some road trip essentials and experienced some major disappointments. First disappointment: they do not carry Bundaberg Ginger Beer. They
didn’t carry ANY brand of ginger beer in fact. Second disappointment: Scott went to go grab some condoms, so
naturally he went to the pain killers section. Not there. We proceeded to go
through the rest of the drug aisles to come up empty handed. They were nowhere
to be found. So, we left Smith’s sans ginger beer and condoms. Third disappointment: gas station service. Scott tried typing in two different Provo area codes and the pump
rejected both of them and forced him to go talk to the loudspeaker lady in the
booth. It was super funny because while he was talking to her, she was still on
the loudspeaker and was blasting the answers to all his questions throughout the entire gas station. The best part was
that when Scott got back to the car, he was completely unaware that everyone in
a 5 mile radius had heard his gas transactions.
It was night by the time we arrived in Las Vegas, which was
stellar. You can see the Luxor’s
world famous laser beam shooting into the night sky and the entire strip is lit
up with those bright neon lights. It was quite the spectacle. Scott had been
dying to go to Buffalo Wild Wings and so that was our first stop in Vegas.
Little did I know that I was about to relive Dillon Fallon’s bachelor party,
starting with Buffalo Wild Wings. We got our
table and I was delightfully reminded that there is diversity out in the real
world. I’m pretty sure we were 2 of 4 white people in the joint. Just being a
minority again made this trip worthwhile.
The last time I was on the strip I straight up looked homeless. Phil and
Doug had forgotten to tell me that our Zion’s trip also included a night on the
Vegas strip, so I dressed appropriately
for camping…This time was a bit better, I was at least wearing nice shorts along with my
tie-dye. We strolled around the Bellagio, the Venetian,
the Mirage and Caesar’s Palace (by far my favorite every time). As we were
walking across the street towards Caesar’s we literally passed Scott Ogden in
40 years. This old man, with his wife, was wearing the exact same outfit as
Scott: short-sleeve button-up brightly colored plaid t-shirt, tucked into
tight-fitting jeans, with glasses.
We ended up searching for a place to crash in a church parking lot instead of Wal-Mart. Usually, church parking lots have tree-covered
areas as part of their landscaping so we thought it wouldn’t be too difficult
to find a place to set up a tent. We didn’t consider the fact that Las Vegas is
a desert. However, we did find this wall that jutted out and that’s where we hid the car behind. Scott was getting ready
to sleep in the car, and while I love Stella and have shared intimate moments
with her, the night was beautiful and the weather was perfect. So, I suggested
we sleep out underneath the stars and juniper trees that were by the cement
wall. The fatty mattress Dougie had provided us turned into a perfect sleeping
pad and we just set up our sleeping bags. I broke a few juniper branches so my
face wouldn’t get torn up during the night, and off we slumbered. We woke up to
roosters crowing at the break of dawn and just hung out and talked under the
juniper bushes for a while.
The urge to pee soon set in and I ran off to see if
the church building was open. As I was walking across the parking lot, a car
pulled in and the driver quizzically watched me for a while. I’m sure I looked
uber sketchy. Glory be, the church was open and I quickly ran around to try and
find the women’s bathroom. I found the men’s but the women’s was not to be
found. By the time I had walked around the entire church, a group of people had
entered and started cleaning. I awkwardly went up to one of the ladies and
asked where I could find the restroom. Her daughter, a little too
enthusiastically, showed me where they were. By this time, Scott had pulled the
car around to the front of the building while I was in the bathroom and I let
him in the side door. We used the church as our personal hotel room and freshened up and headed off
to breakfast.
We ended up at IHOP. As we were walking up to the front, the couple walking in front of us suddenly saw the group of people
outside (it’s 10 am on a Saturday morning, no duh IHOP is going to have a line),
stop, and complain that they aren’t going to wait an hour in line for IHOP and
leave to find another breakfast joint. Scott and I waltzed into the fine
breakfast establishment, put our name down for the wait list, and took a seat.
So happens that the wait was not an hour, but a mere 20 minutes or so. Easy. We
sat, we ate, we read Scott’s FB note about Bejeweled, and we headed to the
strip.
Strip, Round 2. We
went to the MGM Grand and watched the baby lions play, for free. We were right up next to
the glass and the lion cubs were adorably playful. One kept trying to eat the
other cub and the other cub kept ignoring him and playing with his red ball. It
was very reminiscent of the Rise of the Planet of the Apes to me, especially
since there was a Mexican Tom Felton lion cub-caretaker who I just knew was a
jerk to the cubs behind scenes. Well, Scott ran with the Rise of the Planet of
the Apes theme and began outlining a terrifying story of how the glass wasn’t
really all that thick and that if the lions were smart enough they could break
out and eat every one of us staring at them, easy. Little did Scott know that a
4 year-old girl was staring at him in horror as he told this story of a
possible Rise of the Planet of the Lions scenario. I quickly covered for him saying
that it was a good thing the lions weren’t smart enough and that they would
never attack or eat anyone.
After scarring the little girl, we headed over to
the Silverton Casino to look at the aquarium. As we were walking on the strip,
I couldn't help but wonder as to why there were tons of strollers and little
kids hanging around. Is the strip a family-fun place I was unaware of? What fun
activities are there for children to do at the strip? Is the Las Vegas Strip
the new family weekend mall outing? As a 20 year-old, I find that my options for
entertainment are quite limited on the strip, I can only imagine the options
available to kids under the age of 12. Your kids could come away with
second-hand smoke, I guess that could be fun. Or maybe
your 5 year-old could gamble away your last $10. All I know is
that Scott and I are never taking our kids to Vegas for a weekend outing.
Finally, the time had arrived and Scott and I packed
ourselves up and headed to see Sister Jenn Mack. We pull into the church
parking lot and immediately realize that we are completely underdressed for the
baptism. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought about baptismal dress-code before,
but go figure. As we walked into the church, I had a minor
freak-out being that I had caught a glimpse of Sister Mack and didn’t want to
disrupt the entire baptism. Scott calmed me down and decided that we would stay
and sit in the very back unnoticed. So, we slid into the far back 2
seats and I’m just feeling like a major creeper because I’m literally staring
at Sister Mack’s back. *I cannot describe how weird it was to physically see
and be in the same room with her after only reading her emails and seeing her
in pictures for the past year and a half.*
Sister Mack turns to the left to talk
to somebody and sees me chilling in the back and she immediately mouths
something along the lines of “What the heck??” and the next thing I know she’s
getting out of her chair and I get out of mine and she charges at me and we
straight up collide in a long-awaited hug. IT WAS SO GOOD! She just keep saying
in my ear, “I can’t believe you’re here. You’re a punk for coming. This is so
weird. Etc” And we just kept hugging for forever and she was a little choked
up, but did not cry. I was thoroughly impressed. We finally broke apart to see
we had caused a scene and everyone was now staring at the nicely dressed sister
missionary hug-tackling some grungy homeless chick. Classic us. Sister Mack
started heading back to her seat and said, “Well, I’m gonna go back to being a
missionary again.” And I returned and sat with Scott in the back, getting
random people looking back and forth at us.
The baptism was really cool. It was for one of Sister Mack’s
investigators, Frankie a 14-year old boy, and
it was just awesome to be at since I haven’t been to a baptism in a
really long time. Scott leaned over and told me, “Rachel, this is literally
going to be exactly like your mission.” And all of a sudden I came to the
realization that what Scott had said was completely true. In a couple of
months, I was going to be in Sister Mack’s shoes and this would be like the
church buildings I would be in, and the members would be the members I would
know personally and love and pray for. This would be my mission. Scott saying
that made my mission all that more tangible and real instead of feeling like
the airy concept I’ve been thinking of it as thus far.
After the baptism, Sister Mack came back and we just picked
up our friendship right where we had left it. A little too much on my part,
because I accidently kept calling her “J” instead of “Sister Mack” but she got
a kick out of it, so we were all good. We were going on just like old times and
it felt so good to have that part of me back again. There’s something about
having a best friend who has been with you through the various stages of growth
and development in your life; someone who has seen your progression from the
person you used to be into the person you currently are; someone who knows and
understands your family; someone who has seen the tender, closed sides of you.
Being with Sister Mack made me feel whole again. And that was so refreshing. I
never realized how much people like her have influenced me in my life. Getting
a small taste of that by being with Sister Mack and meeting her district and
her ward family was such an invigorating experience. I loved every minute of
talking with her, her ward members, her converts. Just being
with her and talking about her coming home in 3 days made me feel absolutely
joyous and elated and high. I really cannot describe the feeling, but it was a
good one.
After that show we headed over to Treasure Island to see
the Sirens of TI show, and that was bomb. There was fire, a story-line,
original music, water explosions, and of course you have your hot bodies. What
I found mind-boggling was the grandparents behind us. They were complaining
because their grandkids were too short to see the show, so they were lifting
them on their shoulders so they could get a better look at the half-dressed men
and women on the pirate ships. Really gramps and gramma? Do you think your grandkids
even understand half of the sexual references being made? And don’t they have a
bedtime right around now? Granted, the fire and water effects were pretty cool,
but why you would bring your grandkids to the Vegas strip is beyond my
comprehension.
We then went to Outback for dinner. While we were waiting for a
table, this bachelorette party walks in. They’re all wearing small dresses with
fun, party tiaras, and the bride-to-be was wearing a tight, skimpy white dress.
The bride-to-be walks in a huff because her girlfriends didn’t make
reservations for Outback and now they had to wait 15 minutes, and she can’t
believe she has to wait 15 minutes to eat during her bachelorette party. The
way the waiting area was set up was such that there was a group on the left of
our bench, we were in the middle, and there were a few open spots to the right
of us on the booth. The bride-to-be and 2 of her friends took seats while the
rest stood around her, all very annoyed by the situation. I don’t think any of
them had had alcohol yet, which might have been the major problem. The group to
the left of Scott and I got called for a table and so we scooted over to make
room for the bachelorette party. As we scooted over the girls sitting on the
booth gave us these incredulous looks, one with her mouth literally opened,
looking offended as if we were snubbing them by not sitting next to them. Scott
and I quickly explained we scooted over not because we didn’t like them but to
create more room for their friends to sit and then they laughed and were okay
with that. As one of the girls sat next to Scott, she was texting on her iPhone
the entire time and Scott was hardcore reading her messages. Scott smirks and
leans over to whisper, “I like how all of these chicks are together
at this bachelorette party and are all ignoring each other and texting their
boys talking about how they miss them and are at this party so they can’t hang
out with them.” I pointed out to Scott how I liked how a few of the girls
didn’t understand the concept of wearing a thong and how you’re supposed to buy
a thong that fits you and is not too small, because the point of a thong is to
get rid of panty-lines instead of showing a grody thong-line. Unfortunately, we
got called to a table and had to leave our girls to themselves. I wonder how
the rest of their night went…
Las Vegas is definitely a city of sin, with its "neon-encrusted temples," "catalogs of concubines," and "Blackjack and Lady Luck." The Strip definitely lives up to its reputation and then some. My favorite part of this trip was not necessarily the location, but the people I was with. The people you're with are what really makes the location memorable.
The cabin was a dream come true. In the middle of the Blue Ridge Mountains, secluded from society, surrounded by green. I truly don't understand why everyone is so obsessed with the grandeur of the mountains in Utahrd. Sure, they're bigger but they lack the majestic awe that is only found within a canopy of trees. We got on the roof of the cabin and just admired how the Blue Ridge Mountains came to be named: there is a blue hue that covers the green evergreens of the mountains and it looked especially incredible that day because it was overcast, feeling the calm before the storm of the evening arrived. 
