'Twas the Night before Independence Day
Tonight I saw an amazing sight in Provo, Utah. The usually buttoned-up main drag, University Avenue, on which the only action is traffic is bursting with life. Families are sleeping in tents along the strip of grass separating the Provo High parking lot from the street. Some of the families have generators, and their children are watching Mulan on small televisions.
They can't be getting much sleep, though, because motorcycle gangs with varying toughness are driving up and down University Avenue revving their engines at every red light.
Down in front of the Provo Library, a huge group of high schoolers and UVU students are partying to poppy hip-hop music. My neighborhood's movers and shakers set up across the street from the library: in front of the old BYU women's gymnasium-turned CTR thrift shop. We played Spaz Uno and that hand-slapping game around an enormous LoveSac while Jesse grilled hot dogs on a portable grill and James chilled on a recliner. Tim "the Arab" Hansen gave rides on his new motorbike.
I met a scruffy physics major who spent last summer hitchhiking through Europe. It's funny how close I can get to a random person late at night when I'm scared to touch people I've known forever.
Anyway, about an hour ago a group of dumb kids started slinging water balloons over the road and into the dancers by the library. They forgot how mad suburban white hip-hoppers can get. A delegation of dancers crossed the street to take the sling shot. Things got ugly, somebody was eventually kicked in the crotch, and everyone felt better.
Two police cars showed up at this altercation, which was more than the one who walked my friends and the Smith's shopping cart they were playing with back to the grocery store. Ahhh, Provo police must be sick of dealing with Young People. They don't really do much else.
The bottom line is that the Fourth of July really is the Mormon Mardi Gras, as Jeff suggested. It's patriotic, family oriented, and substitutes large amounts of explosives for large amounts of booze. Before I saw University Avenue tonight, I thought Utahans who obsessed over the Fourth were exaggerating.
They can't be getting much sleep, though, because motorcycle gangs with varying toughness are driving up and down University Avenue revving their engines at every red light.
Down in front of the Provo Library, a huge group of high schoolers and UVU students are partying to poppy hip-hop music. My neighborhood's movers and shakers set up across the street from the library: in front of the old BYU women's gymnasium-turned CTR thrift shop. We played Spaz Uno and that hand-slapping game around an enormous LoveSac while Jesse grilled hot dogs on a portable grill and James chilled on a recliner. Tim "the Arab" Hansen gave rides on his new motorbike.
I met a scruffy physics major who spent last summer hitchhiking through Europe. It's funny how close I can get to a random person late at night when I'm scared to touch people I've known forever.
Anyway, about an hour ago a group of dumb kids started slinging water balloons over the road and into the dancers by the library. They forgot how mad suburban white hip-hoppers can get. A delegation of dancers crossed the street to take the sling shot. Things got ugly, somebody was eventually kicked in the crotch, and everyone felt better.
Two police cars showed up at this altercation, which was more than the one who walked my friends and the Smith's shopping cart they were playing with back to the grocery store. Ahhh, Provo police must be sick of dealing with Young People. They don't really do much else.
The bottom line is that the Fourth of July really is the Mormon Mardi Gras, as Jeff suggested. It's patriotic, family oriented, and substitutes large amounts of explosives for large amounts of booze. Before I saw University Avenue tonight, I thought Utahans who obsessed over the Fourth were exaggerating.
posted by Bethylene at 01:56
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home