SLC Drunk

How positively underwhelming. I know you shouldn't judge a town by circling over it and sampling the wares at the airport, but Salt Lake City strikes me as amazingly lame. These are my impressions upon layover.

While the humps and bumps and jaggy, craggy peaks of the fairly snowy mountains surrounding the city are pretty striking - especially since they carry on seemingly forever in a straight line - the city itself is bathed in a swath of yellow-brown. Essentially, the dingy valley that SLC fills looks from above like a shitstain in a pair of tighty-whities.

I wouldn't go so far as to call them a shitstain on society, but the cult members working the airport are about as lovely as the crew in Houston... which is to say they're a bit inbred and a bit slow. But hey, Mormons are very nice people. And believe it or not, the locals brew good beer. This might just be the place's saving grace.

I had a couple of tall glasses of Polygamy Porter, and it's among the tastier dark beers I've tried. Pretty surprising for a place that doesn't generally serve beer with an alcohol content higher than 3%. Just in case, I brought a flask of rum with me, knowing that I had a longish layover in Mormonville, but it turned out I didn't need it. Miracles never cease.