Welcome to Mormonland

All I ever knew about Salt Lake City was from the movie SLC Punk and the cult documentaries about the Mormons. Other than that, I barely even knew Utah was a thing. The first time I ever saw Salt Lake City, I was passing through. I was moving from New Orleans to Eugene in 2018. Just so you know, New Orleans is the opposite of Salt Lake City. I was pulling a car behind the loaded down 26' U-Haul with all my shit and a heavy-ass motorcycle inside. It was terrifying when I rolled into the city on I-15. These motherfuckers were hauling ass and weaving across lanes like they were on a fucking racetrack. I felt like I was in a video game, and my controllers didn't work.

I somehow survived the Thunderdome and grabbed a hotel somewhere on the way to Idaho. I didn't know that I was still in Utah. I hadn't had a drink in four years and was looking to jump off the wagon, so I walked to the store to grab a beer. I got a 22oz Heineken and figured that should set me straight. I drank it in the room pretty quickly, and I didn't feel a thing. And I should have. I mean, four years, no alcohol, drugs, or anything. I walked back to the store and grabbed another one. Nothing. Was I broken? Was I being punished? Can I just NOT get loaded? Had my neurotransmitters been rewired from all that time sober and gotten me stuck like that? Was Joseph Smith behind all of this? What the fuck?

Suddenly I remembered Steve-O and Heroin Bob making a beer run to Wyoming because the beer was weaker in Utah. I googled it to see if Heineken made a special bullshit version for Mormonland. And it was there that I found the answers to the questions I sought. Joseph Smith was behind all of this. I couldn't even relapse right. I chose Utah of all places to finally have a drink, and I had just left New Orleans for fuck's sake. I sat in utter disappointment and defeat screaming to the sky. Lord, who's a guy gotta fuck around here to catch a buzz?

Anyway, I made it to Eugene, still sober and safe. I had never heard of an IPA, but I bought a big one on my way back from the weed store. And if it's any consolation, I drank it and ended up dropping half the shit I was trying to move and fell down the stairs a couple of times. I wasn't stuck like that after all. Nope. The alcohol worked just fine in Oregon. I just needed to get out of Mormonland. Now, I'm living in Salt Lake City and working at Aces High Saloon. And by the looks of these drunk maniacs, they changed them alcohol laws, dawg. But not for me because I'm back on the wagon.