Evidently, in Utah, because of the Mormon influence, liquor is sold in separate state-run liquor stores. We were staying for the night near the border in Kanab, UT, and thought we'd save a little money by not ordering wine in a restaurant. A merchant in town told us that the nearest "packaged" liquor store was just across the border, in Arizona. We entered "liquor store" into the maps app on our iPhone, and the directions popped up. We headed for the border of Utah, into Arizona.
Sure enough, a lone, weathered building stood in a gravel parking lot with a peeling sign that said "Liq or". It had the look of a business that was either closed or was neglected. From the outside, empty cardboard boxes could be seen piled up against the window. Doug said, "The man said there were two stores, maybe we should try the other one..."
There were three cars in the parking lot, and I said, "SOME people shop here. I think this looks interesting. Let's both go in."
The screen door creaked as we walked in. Doug ventured ahead of me down a narrow aisle. I was greeted by a little black bulldog. When I bent to pet him, flakes of dandruff appeared on his dusty looking coat. There was a slight scent of a litter box. The dog followed behind as I turned to take in the scene.
Some of the nails were sticking up above the weathered floorboard. On either side of the aisle were big bags of cat food, dog food, and garden soil. Something for everyone. What was really encroaching on the aisle were stacks of old newspaper, and discarded packaging that never made it out to the garbage.
Behind the counter sat a rather tall old woman with waxy skin and and long gray hair. She made eye contact with me, and I noticed the bags under her eyes and the deep wrinkles from years of smoking.
"What's your dog's name?", I asked, trying to be social.
She looked me up and down and then shouted ,"He's Bull! B-U-L-L!" at the top of her voice, as if she was hard of hearing, or she thought I was.
Behind her was a another stack of newspapers and magazines, this time intermingled with three bottles of what I recognized as little plastic bottles of homeopathic remedies. I was going to be bold and ask her about them, since I've taken the different "cell salt" tablets before for different ailments, but I refrained. Maybe I felt that it made me more like her...
I walked back to where Doug was examining the different bottles of wine that were displayed amazingly neatly, but with no prices.
In the mean time, the lady smoked the last of a cigarette, flicking the ashes off her stained down vest, chatted with other customers, asking about their families; how she hadn't seen them for a couple of days, etc. A young man with a bowl haircut and missing a couple of front teeth, emerged from a big refrigerated room with a 24 pack of cold beer. She asked him when he was leaving for his new job. "Tomorrow", he said.
We made our selection, a Turning Leaf Merlot, but wondered about the price. "Seven ninety-five." she called out. She called out "See ya!", to some other customers, and then asked if we would pay by cash or credit.
"Visa if that's okay", said my husband.
"BOBBY!!", she hollered. "Seven ninety-five!!"
Turns out Bobby is her grandson, who arranges the bottles and runs the credit machine.
As he was ringing us up, Doug asked the lady if the road to the North Rim of the Canyon was open yet. The boy from the beer refrigerator said, " It won't open till May 15th, I'm going up to work there. We have to get it ready in the next coupla weeks." He smiled and shrugged his shoulders proudly.
"So I guess we'll head on up to Bryce or Arches", Doug said.
Trying to make a little more conversation, I said,"I bet you do a pretty good business here right on the border!"
She looked at me oddly with her rheumy eyes, and in a moment said, "Yeah, some tourists come through here."
The young man with the beer offered, "Well, ya got a lotta regulars!!", grinning from ear to ear.
"Well, tomorrow I think I'll just close for the day", she said, "I've got a lot of errands to do." She moved an overflowing ashtray to a neater place directly in the middle of an old Oprah magazine.
Her grandson had Doug sign his receipt, and then went back to straightening the liquor bottles.
We said our good byes, and headed for the door, once again followed by Bull. Near the door I saw a big white ice machine and opened it thinking we might need some ice for our ice chest. I closed it quickly and made for the door.
Doug said, "You don't want to get ice?"
I shook my head and said, "There wasn't any ice in there, only old pizza boxes..."
We walked to our car thinking that perhaps we should wipe down the wine bottle before we opened it. I guess you can see that we aren't fine wine connoisseurs....
Sure enough, a lone, weathered building stood in a gravel parking lot with a peeling sign that said "Liq or". It had the look of a business that was either closed or was neglected. From the outside, empty cardboard boxes could be seen piled up against the window. Doug said, "The man said there were two stores, maybe we should try the other one..."
There were three cars in the parking lot, and I said, "SOME people shop here. I think this looks interesting. Let's both go in."
The screen door creaked as we walked in. Doug ventured ahead of me down a narrow aisle. I was greeted by a little black bulldog. When I bent to pet him, flakes of dandruff appeared on his dusty looking coat. There was a slight scent of a litter box. The dog followed behind as I turned to take in the scene.
Some of the nails were sticking up above the weathered floorboard. On either side of the aisle were big bags of cat food, dog food, and garden soil. Something for everyone. What was really encroaching on the aisle were stacks of old newspaper, and discarded packaging that never made it out to the garbage.
Behind the counter sat a rather tall old woman with waxy skin and and long gray hair. She made eye contact with me, and I noticed the bags under her eyes and the deep wrinkles from years of smoking.
"What's your dog's name?", I asked, trying to be social.
She looked me up and down and then shouted ,"He's Bull! B-U-L-L!" at the top of her voice, as if she was hard of hearing, or she thought I was.
Behind her was a another stack of newspapers and magazines, this time intermingled with three bottles of what I recognized as little plastic bottles of homeopathic remedies. I was going to be bold and ask her about them, since I've taken the different "cell salt" tablets before for different ailments, but I refrained. Maybe I felt that it made me more like her...
I walked back to where Doug was examining the different bottles of wine that were displayed amazingly neatly, but with no prices.
In the mean time, the lady smoked the last of a cigarette, flicking the ashes off her stained down vest, chatted with other customers, asking about their families; how she hadn't seen them for a couple of days, etc. A young man with a bowl haircut and missing a couple of front teeth, emerged from a big refrigerated room with a 24 pack of cold beer. She asked him when he was leaving for his new job. "Tomorrow", he said.
We made our selection, a Turning Leaf Merlot, but wondered about the price. "Seven ninety-five." she called out. She called out "See ya!", to some other customers, and then asked if we would pay by cash or credit.
"Visa if that's okay", said my husband.
"BOBBY!!", she hollered. "Seven ninety-five!!"
Turns out Bobby is her grandson, who arranges the bottles and runs the credit machine.
As he was ringing us up, Doug asked the lady if the road to the North Rim of the Canyon was open yet. The boy from the beer refrigerator said, " It won't open till May 15th, I'm going up to work there. We have to get it ready in the next coupla weeks." He smiled and shrugged his shoulders proudly.
"So I guess we'll head on up to Bryce or Arches", Doug said.
Trying to make a little more conversation, I said,"I bet you do a pretty good business here right on the border!"
She looked at me oddly with her rheumy eyes, and in a moment said, "Yeah, some tourists come through here."
The young man with the beer offered, "Well, ya got a lotta regulars!!", grinning from ear to ear.
"Well, tomorrow I think I'll just close for the day", she said, "I've got a lot of errands to do." She moved an overflowing ashtray to a neater place directly in the middle of an old Oprah magazine.
Her grandson had Doug sign his receipt, and then went back to straightening the liquor bottles.
We said our good byes, and headed for the door, once again followed by Bull. Near the door I saw a big white ice machine and opened it thinking we might need some ice for our ice chest. I closed it quickly and made for the door.
Doug said, "You don't want to get ice?"
I shook my head and said, "There wasn't any ice in there, only old pizza boxes..."
We walked to our car thinking that perhaps we should wipe down the wine bottle before we opened it. I guess you can see that we aren't fine wine connoisseurs....
