“Where you going?” His first question. A little vague.
Well I’ll tell you. That’s a toughie. I wish I knew. Finish school, get a job, wife, kids, that sort of thing. Or maybe not. You know how it goes. It was just a thought. A logical answer to his question.
“Utah.” The reply.
“Where you been?” Another question. A thinking man’s question at that.
A whole load of places, Disneyland even. Remind me to tell you about this great little diner in Nebraska sometime. How about you? Religiously speaking, however, I couldn’t tell exactly. Too deep for me. Just another thought.
“Just up skiing in Banff.”
“How long were you out of the country?”
Long enough to spend every bit of our money, see the sights, take advantage of the 18 year old drinking age, lock the keys in the car, get three flat tires, get ripped off, be savagely humiliated, not to mention the headaches and general frustration.
Kind of a hellish trip all in all.
“Oh, about four or five days.”
“Four or five?”
Well, sorry, Mr. Picky. You writing a book? “Since Wednesday night.”
“What’s your purpose?”
Ah! There we go, the eternal question. Why the heck are we on this sphere anyhow? Tell you one thing though, I’m pretty damn sure my purpose isn’t the same as yours.
“Just four college boys taking off for Thanksgiving to go dig some scenery.”