An Inconvenient Welcome

IMG_0589_1.JPG

http://matadornetwork.com/community/dirtbagdreamer/an-inconvenient-welcome/attachment/4/

Matador U – Assignment #3

My hands, weary from the 24-hour drive, fumbled with the
keys as I tried to unlock the door to my new home. The AmeriCorps director hooked me up with some roommates and
one of them had found this apartment and mailed me a set of keys. Not a single
one opened the deadbolt.   

I didn’t yet have a cell phone so I pounded frantically on
every door until someone opened.       

“It’s been condemned,” said my future neighbor a little too
cheerily. 

My sleep-deprived mind tried to comprehend. “But what, how, what
happened – what I am suppose to do? 
Why didn’t they tell me?”

“Raw sewage everywhere.  You’re gong to have to find a different place to live.”

It was 9 o’clock at night.  I didn’t even care I just wanted to sleep.  Just a few days post 9/11, our chances
of finding a hotel for the night had to be next to none.  

“Ya know we can turn around this car anytime, you don’t have
to do this.  Just come back home
and wait until this all settles over,” my mother said tearfully once an hour during
the 1500-mile drive.  I was trying
so hard to be strong but I wanted so badly to go home.

We get back in the car.  For the first time I notice the twinkling lights of the city
that extend as far as you can see. 
The apartment is in a neighborhood perched high in the foothills and as
we drove back downtown it felt more like we were preparing for landing than
traveling by car.  Coming from the
flatlands of the Midwest the view was hard to grasp.  We pass by what must be the Mormon Temple, but it looks more
like the Magic Kingdom than a holy place.

The stars must have finally aligned because the first hotel
we tried had a room just open up. 
The occupants had scored a rental car and we just needed to wait for the
room to be cleaned.  I called my
landlord from the lobby, but got her babysitter, “It’s her birthday – I don’t
expect them back until midnight.”

I fell asleep with my shoes on and woke to the phone, “Oh
that blond lady, the flight attendant – yeah she’s a real nut job and doesn’t
like when people rent out their units. 
Yeah, one of the sinks backed up but we had the carpets cleaned.  I will meet you there in the morning.”

I woke early and ventured out to the hotel lobby, which
resembled more of a newsroom with newspapers scattered about and CNN blaring.  I tried to find the coffee – oh how
little I knew about Salt Lake City. 
I settled for a hot chocolate and took a seat out on the crowded patio
where I got my first glimpse of the Wasatch Mountains that completely border the
east side of the city.

“It’s the lake,” the man seated next to me said noticing my
upturned nose.

“Ughhh does it always smell like this?  I thought maybe it was all that talk
about raw sewage…” as I enter into a narrative about the last night’s events to
a complete stranger.  I pause mid
sentence as I remember why all these people are here – like pulling oneself
groggily out of a bad dream.  I
pardoned myself, got up, and resolved to make this new city my home.