I have mixed feelings about Utah and am violently ill

East Coast time. My body is still on it. It's 6 am here and I am awake as a puppy that needs to potty. I'm also wound tight with panic and stress. It's like this calm summer of steady employment never happened. I'm back to my old ways of constant stress over my future. I need to find a home. And a job. Mostly a job. But mostly a home.

Until then: Utah.

My journey into Utah began with my vomiting. And stopped and stayed there for a couple hours. Luckily, the first day in Utah was supposed to be a half day because we were going to hike casually in Arches National Park. Well, after a couple hours of sick, that became a distant dream. We drove through Utah and I struggled to maintain my body temperature in the passenger seat. Let me tell you something. Utah. Sucked. For awhile. When we were on the main highway. Still determined to see Arches, however, I veered us off on 128 a "Scenic Byway" (although not really sure what that meant) that would lazily weave its way around to the park. When we first got on the byway, suspicion and worry seeped in. Which was only made worse by the fact that my GPS was saying "In 9.2 miles, go off road". My car, doesn't do "off road".

At first this road is totally deserted, and there's nothing scenic about. It's the same old boring distant hills (and one random-ass mountain out of no where) that you've been staring at since you entered Utah. Except now, there's no one around to help you if you car suddenly decides it gives up on this life and ferrying you across the country at your every whim. So we contemplate quite seriously turning around at least 4 times.

And then it happened: Utah was awesome.

The rocks start to glow red and jut out of the ground in crazy positions. Painstakingly carved temples sit precariously on the sides of mountains while giant monks make pilgrimage from distant peaks. Huge depressions and wide slaloms are carved out of the sides by the river that winds lazily beside the road. And then we see a dude ranch. And it's suddenly weird and green. And then we're back in Utah. And everything is red.

By the time we reach Arches we're kind of like "what's left to see, really?". Man, I wish we could have hiked Arches. 128 was red and green and dotted with river campsites (sidenote: after entering one of their privies to discover there was no toilet paper, I am so glad I had some in my car. I'm never buying real tissues for my car again... never know what you'll need), but Arches was orange and blue and high in the air. We drove around like tourists and stayed on the paved sidewalks that were by the big attractions, but didn't get down in the dirt: my boots were in the back, I had a raging fever (I didn't know it at the time), and our hotel was still an hour away and it was already dinner time.

We left, and drove in boring-Utah again. Over to Green River, which is my Radiator Springs. We stayed in the Robber's Roost, indistinguishable from the Cozy Cone except for the shape of the building (no cones, just motel). We walk in and the room is wood-paneled from floor to ceiling. These disgusting purple comforters that were clearly picked out in 1982 bounce off green and purple shag carpeting of the same era. It somehow matches and clashes at the same time. But overall, the room works. I'm also pretty sure that this motel room made an appearance in the A Goofy Movie... except maybe there were fish swimming in the mattresses (clearly they've down-graded since).