Big Foot's Back Door

You all know that I like to stop in St. George on the drive down. One of the reasons I like to do that is Pink Box donuts.  It's a great donut shop!

I also like the big gas station south of Las Vegas.  You know the one, it's the White Castle gas station.  They have a big sasquatch there:

Once upon a time, in the dense, pine-scented forests of Utah, there was a legend about a creature so elusive, even the squirrels doubted its existence: Bigfoot. Locals spoke of him in hushed tones, and tourists hoped to catch a glimpse, but it had been years since anyone had seen the mysterious beast.

One sunny afternoon, Bob, a seasoned hiker with a knack for getting lost, decided to take a leisurely stroll through the Wasatch Mountains. Armed with his trusty camera, a half-eaten sandwich, and an outdated map, Bob ventured deep into the wilderness, blissfully unaware of the surprise that awaited him.

As Bob trudged along, humming an off-key rendition of "Don't Stop Believin'," he stumbled upon an unusually large footprint. "No way," he muttered, crouching down to examine it. The footprint was massive, far bigger than any human foot. Bob's heart raced. "Could it be?" he wondered aloud. "Have I finally found Bigfoot?"

Determined to get proof, Bob followed the footprints, which led him deeper into the forest. He heard rustling noises and strange grunts, and his excitement grew. Finally, after what felt like hours, he found himself in a small clearing. There, in the middle of the clearing, was Bigfoot. But something was off.

Bigfoot was lounging in a hammock, wearing a pair of oversized sunglasses, and sipping what looked like a piña colada. Next to him, a boombox played some smooth jazz, and a stack of magazines lay at his feet. Bob blinked, convinced he was hallucinating. He rubbed his eyes and pinched himself, but the scene remained the same.

Summoning his courage, Bob cleared his throat. "Uh, excuse me, Mr. Bigfoot?" he stammered. Bigfoot lazily turned his head, lowered his sunglasses, and stared at Bob.

"Yeah, what do you want?" Bigfoot grumbled, his voice surprisingly deep and gruff.

Bob fumbled with his camera. "I-I was hoping to get a picture. You know, to prove you exist."

Bigfoot sighed. "Listen, pal, I’m on vacation. I usually avoid humans, but I needed a break. It's hard work being a mythical creature, you know?"

Bob nodded vigorously, unsure of how to respond. "Of course, of course. I totally understand. Can I just take one quick photo? I promise I won't bother you again."

Bigfoot rolled his eyes but shrugged. "Fine, make it quick."

Bob snapped a few photos, his hands shaking with excitement. He couldn't believe his luck. As he lowered his camera, he noticed Bigfoot staring intently at his sandwich.

"Is that turkey and swiss?" Bigfoot asked, his tone suddenly eager.

Bob glanced at his half-eaten sandwich and nodded. "Uh, yeah. Would you like some?"

Bigfoot's eyes lit up. "You bet! It’s been ages since I had a decent sandwich."

Bob handed over the sandwich, and Bigfoot devoured it in seconds. "Thanks, buddy. That hit the spot."

"No problem," Bob said, grinning. "So, uh, do you hang out here often?"

Bigfoot chuckled. "Nah, just needed a break from the usual hiding and scaring routine. But don't go telling everyone about this spot. I like my privacy."

Bob nodded. "Your secret’s safe with me."

With a final wave, Bob left the clearing, his heart still pounding. He couldn't wait to tell everyone about his encounter. As he walked away, he heard Bigfoot call out, "And hey, bring a pastrami on rye next time!"

Back in town, Bob became a local legend. His photos were the talk of the town, and people marveled at his story. But whenever someone asked for directions to the Bigfoot hammock hideaway, Bob would just smile and say, "Sorry, that’s a secret between me and my new buddy, Bigfoot."

End of Story.

I once found a scavenger hunt online that I thought would be fun for us to do at Disneyland. It was for our trip last November.  Do you remember doing it?  Of course not.  That's because we didn't do it.  Here it is, if you're curious about it:

Here is the continuation of the long story:

The Christensen Family from Orem

Steve and Mandy Christensen packed their minivan with military precision, fitting luggage, snacks, and their four children, Jenna, Zac, Trevor, and Gage, like Tetris pieces. The drive from Orem to St. George was set to be around four hours, but with kids, it felt like planning for a cross-country trek.

"Are we there yet?" Gage asked, ten minutes into the drive.

"No, buddy, not yet," Steve replied, smiling through gritted teeth.

Jenna and Zac had already started bickering over the middle seat, while Trevor loudly played a video game, the sounds of explosions filling the car.

"Turn that down!" Mandy said for the third time, handing Gage another juice box. "And Jenna, let your brother sit there for a while."

"I have to pee!" Gage announced loudly, half an hour in. Steve sighed and pulled off at the nearest gas station.

"Pit stop number one," Steve muttered. They were off to a great start.

Back on the road, they managed another hour of relatively peaceful driving, the kids entertained by movies and snacks. However, it wasn't long before the next crisis struck.

"Mom, Trevor took my headphones!" Zac complained.

"No, I didn't! They're mine!" Trevor shot back.

"Both of you, enough," Mandy said sternly. "Trevor, give Zac his headphones."

"But I need them for my game!" Trevor whined.

"Then play your game without sound," Steve interjected. "We're not stopping again."

The squabble settled, and Mandy leaned back with a sigh. "Why did we think this was a good idea again?"

"Because Disneyland is worth it," Steve said, more to convince himself than anyone else.