Saturday, February 20, 2010

Paging Mr. Page

A dozen churches and one Roadway Inn later, we found ourselves in the small town of Page. Located on the border of Arizona and Utah, Page lacked what most would call ‘character.’ Brit and I had a long day of driving, and were anxious to mingle amongst some of Page’s finest to celebrate Mardi Gras Tuesday. To say we were disappointed with what we found would be an understatement. Like robots on repeat, we repeatedly circled the town of Page, desperate for the vibrant nightlife we had come to associate with modern-day Mardi Gras festivities. After about five circles, we realized that we had already found Page’s downtown (five times already). Page does a good job of disguising its urban crowd and cosmopolitan flair by ignoring these ‘fun town’ components entirely. We searched and scoured for any evidence of civilization, but our searches left us empty handed.
Now, this situation could have left us in total despair. And to be frank, there was about a ten second window in which we both felt like breaking down and balling our eyes out to the gas station attendant. However, we forced ourselves to remember the various themes and mottoes we’ve come to associate with this trip. “Feminine Adrenaline”…”Live Free or Dance”…”When in doubt, don’t pout”…etc. Such optimistic slogans leave no room for Debbie Downers, so we put our creative minds to the test and devised a Plan B for our night in Page. If Page, Arizona wouldn’t throw down for us, we would throw down for Page.
Enter: one seedy motel room, Beyonce karaoke, three dollar bottles of Californian merlot, and a video camera. Ah yes, a recipe for homemade, improvisational, female fun! We entertained ourselves until the wee hours of the night by singing in spandex, eating stale bean burritos, and pretending to microwave each others most prized technological gadgets.

A night to remember, no doubt.

What lesson can be learned from our experience in Page? If you ever find yourself stranded in the middle of Podunk America with nowhere to sleep, eat, or rock out… don’t fret. Perhaps you can remember some of the activities that kept us occupied and entertained, and try them out yourself. Good luck to you, and remember: life’s too short for Debbie Downers.

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