Roommate Moment

I have no intent with this blog entry to dim the importance or value of any other period of my life. I think I can, however, with confidence and conviction, declare that college was the funnest and most carefree time in my life so far. I will follow that with two important points: (A) Life is truly not just about having fun, and (B) I did graduate from college with sufficient grades and understanding to get me into Graduate school… (which was less fun by the way).

This moment is a reflection on one of many college moments. Once again it is the story of a road trip. This time with college roommates Quinn Dietlein and Lance Stott. I don’t think we three were actually ever roommates together, but I was certainly roommates with Lance, and certainly roommates with Quinn. We decided to go on a road trip through southern Utah. (If anyone has any doubt about me missing the red rock of my home state, then you needn’t look further than my blog entries). The beauty of a college student’s life is their ability to mobilize on impulses. If I remember correctly this expedition was rather ad-hoc.

Quinn and I’s relationship began when he was my zone leader on my LDS mission in Germany. The stoic and disciplined Quinn I knew in that environment would be replaced by a largely irreverent, uninhibited showman, with a wit that I have not found an equal to. Lance was a neighbor –turned friend, and our relationship was built on an affinity for music and the wilderness (Lance opened for lokalgrown at our first show in 2001, as the aptly named “Stott”)

The first 4 or 5 hours of the trip really set the standard for the whole expedition. From Logan to Green River, I doubt there was 15 minutes of total silence. Quinn and I share a preoccupation with hearing the sound of our own voices… not talking mind you… but rather singing… and not always pleasant either. I hadn’t laughed so hard in a long time. At one point the event had ceased to be just a silly exercise, and in an instant I realized that Quinn and I had sung three or four successive Beatles songs together in a completely invented (orientally derived) language, without looking at each or even cracking a smile. What’s more is that I turned around and noticed that Lance (not as inclined to such behavior) was staring out the window and inserting random and enthusiastic contributions to our Asian mix. I would give an organ to have this moment on tape. Priceless!

Quinn was preparing for a musical recital at school and had brought along his music. I will never forget the image of Quinn (wearing basketball shorts and shoes….. and NOTHING else) walking through a slot canyon with his music folder, singing a classical German piece. I will also not forget Lance and I’s effort to distance ourselves from this unnatural (or overly natural) spectacle.

We passed through Hanksville and Torrey (Quinn and I made an as-yet-to-be-fulfilled prophecy that lokalgrown would play a show on the 12 ft by 12 ft stage in their city center (across from the burger joint). Next we climbed over gorgeous Boulder Mountain, and gazed from its lofty heights down into rift valleys of Capitol Reef National Park. We drove across the Hogsback of Highway 12 between Boulder and Escalante. That night we slept on the edge of a wide panorama of Grand Staircase National Monument (I’d tell you where, but then my secret would be out). That night we pontificated about an animal we saw in the wash below us, swearing that it was a bear… it had to be!! We’d NEVER seen an animal move like that. Quinn would not leave the fire after Lance and I made this scientific conclusion. The next morning Lance and I bravely journeyed to the wash and with slight embarrassment approached the Cow and calf that were peacefully meandering through the wash (and doing so in an astoundingly cow-like fashion….). Quinn stayed behind to “practice his music” (and to not get eaten by the ferocious “bears”).

The next leg of the trip was through Bryce Canyon (where Quinn and I somehow forgot all of our German in a humbling and awkward exchange with two fairly attractive German girls at Ruby’s Inn). Thankfully, Spanish speaking Lance still probably doesn’t know how unsmooth Quinn and I are capable of being (then again maybe he knows better than anyone else). It was then off to Piute County, Centerville and Richfield, Scipio and home.

These are two friends (among many) that I do not see enough of. We shared wonderful times, well beyond the above described experience. For the late-teenager wondering about college: Please do not rob yourself of this incredible opportunity for every good thing in the world to happen to you in a matter of years!!! Go Aggies!!