Road Trip to Utah

August, 2007

While the trees are starting to turn, another natural phenomenon is occurring all over North America. Our highways are filled with stuffed-to-the-gills cars traveling to colleges and universities in a great scattering and gathering of young people. I just recently completed one such trip with my oldest daughter to the college of her choice. She is attending the University of Utah in their ballet program, hoping to become a professional dancer. Her father is worried that she will end up in Las Vegas dancing with poles…but she has other plans, for the time being.

She has studied classical ballet for over ten years, including several workshops and summer programs in other cities. So when she said she wanted to study ballet in college I was not surprised. Whether or not she can make a livable wage upon graduation seems almost irrelevant -- such is her passion for dancing.

As we packed up the car we both realized that in doing so we were finalizing her break with home, friends, family, and the familiarity of her home state, Oregon. As exciting as it was to travel to Utah and experience a whole new state, new friends, etc., there is a bittersweet quality to leaving home that many college-bound young people experience. Madeleine let herself feel that, but by the time we were on I-84 heading east, she was focused on the road ahead.

Our first day passed quickly, traveling through the Hood River Valley and Columbia Gorge before lunch. As we reached Pendleton, we were getting a bit antsy, so took a walk around the town. Pendleton definitely has a Western feel, much more so than Portland. It also has a depressing feel of a town on its way down. In spite of the world famous rodeo, the Pendleton Round-up, it does not have the vitality that you see it in a thriving town. We managed to find a drive-up coffee and tea hut on the way out of town, and got back on the I-84.
The next few hours were spent looking at the Wallowas, listening to Regina Spektor, and napping. By nightfall we reached Boise, and fell exhausted into our Motel 6 bed. I for one was too tired to notice that we were right next to the airport. If it kept Madeleine awake, she was too tired to say so the next morning. We found a coffee stand, fueled up the car as well, and headed south to Utah. Southern Idaho passed by quickly, and we high-fived at the Utah border.

At lunch time we pulled off the road in a town which shall remain nameless. I say this with compassion, because the people who live there clearly don’t need anyone badmouthing their town. It’s bad enough as it is… I suspect that a meatpacking plant nearby is the main reason for all the flies and partly the reason for the bad attitudes.

The café where we stopped – briefly -- for the worst tuna sandwich I’ve ever had in over forty years, was called “Sally’s” (name changed to protect the innocent!). As we walked through the door it was apparent that the quality of the food was not the reason people in this town congregate at Sally’s. From the looks of the clientele as we walked in, newcomers are relatively scarce, and not necessarily welcome.

Madeleine and I slid into a booth, reluctantly. (I’d worn white shorts rather unwisely that day.) We looked at the menu in desperation, wondering whether it was too late to get up and go to Subway. But by then embarrassment took over our good sense and we decided to stay, in spite of the flies that – some alive, some dead – covered the window sill and all around us in the booth. (You want flies with that?)

Our waitress, who was refreshingly adorable and intelligent-looking, came to take our order, with some apparent reluctance. Her died-black hair would have marked her an “emo” under other circumstances. Her movie star eyes and smile made me wonder how the “h” she ended up there. She was probably not over twenty, so perhaps grew up there. As we left my mothering instincts wanted to tell her to “get out before it’s too late.” But I do have two teenaged daughters, and have learned to keep these thoughts to myself.

On the road again, we began to see mountain peaks off to the right and left, with the elevation gain accordingly increasing. Madeleine’s boredom by this point caused her to take lots of cheesy in the car photos including the obligatory tongue-hangers which will never see the light of day. The photo of Madeleine’s legs on the dash, however, is a keeper.

When we arrived we had to find our motel in Salt Lake City – one which I booked over the internet because it was convenient, looked inhabitable from the photos, and was – cheap. So when we finally found it we were a bit disappointed to learn that our “boutique hotel” was actually just a redecorated old motel, complete with broken soda machine and an ice machine next to our room…

The tempurpedic beds, cozy décor, and continental breakfast almost made up for it. Bagels and cream cheese, decent coffee, orange juice and fresh fruit made our mornings there more welcome. The roach that I smashed on the back of the bathroom door, well let’s just not tell Madeleine about that, okay?

We got to her dormitory without a hitch on the next day, move-in day for Freshmen. I have to say that it was the most organized and efficient move we’ve done. Of course having a total of three suitcases, a laundry basket and a Rubbermaid tub made it slightly easier than moving a five or six room household, which I’ve done several times.

The line to get her dorm key and hall pass was long, but they provided cold drinks and good cheer to greet the students and their parents on the sidelines. Many of us nodded at each other in acknowledgement that we were proud parents, delivering our babies to the college of their choice.

Seeing my daughter sit for the first time on her dorm bed was another Kodak moment. There’s nothing starker than an empty dorm room. And the look on her face had some anxiety, for sure. After all, she’d been used to her own cozy room with a queen-sized bed and her own bathroom. Actually I think the intention of architects of university dormitories is to make the students want to leave so they will go to class and maybe even to the library. And it works, to some extent. Otherwise no one would live in those places!

Well it has been almost three weeks since Madeleine’s move-in day and I’ve received several phone calls and a couple emails. So far she is enjoying her classes and getting along well with her roommate. She is finding friends and writing essays in between her dancing, job hunting, and socializing. Madeleine may not be “grown up” yet, but her life is unfolding as it should.