An Inconvenient Welcome

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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.