Hot Potato

Fat and sober. A wise man once used those words to succinctly sum up the goal of draconian liquor laws, none matched by Utah's. Bones and I recently wrapped up an assignment in Salt Lake City and the nightlife there can be summed up in one number: 3.2. As in the percentage of alcohol allowed in beer served on tap. In a place with one of the highest concentrations of delicious microbrews, brew pubs can't even sell their own beer (they have to sell it through a liquor store if it's above 3.2 percent). This spawns all kinds of weird menu items like the "full strength" beer category (Apparently if it comes from out of the country and is in a bottle it's OK. Sometimes.) and what look like regular restaurants calling themselves private clubs (If you're a member of a "private club" that club can serve you liquor.)

Despite these travesties, we tapped our limitless resourcefulness and found booze and full strength beer near a stop on the city's light rail line to get me a birthday drink or six.

We had some down time in Salt Lake, so we headed for a tour of Temple Square, a collection of buildings that is the center of Mormonism. If you take this tour, prepare for a hard sell. Our tour guides, Sisters Acevedo and Martinez explained that we could see anything we want — oh, except for the main temple, which is what everyone comes to see.
"It's sacred, not a secret," Sister Acevedo said.

The sisters took us to the square's church, the auditorium where the Mormon Tabernacle Choir performs and then the convention center, a blocky granite building that looks like it was designed by a blue ribbon panel of Soviet architects and science fiction writers.
"Isn't it beautiful?" Sister Acevedo said.

Then came the Jesus planetarium. I'm pretty sure that's not what the LDS Church calls it (I think Sister Acevedo called it 'The Rotunda') but that's the first thing I thought when we wound up a staircase into a round room with a 360 degree star scape, complete with all the planets and a 15 foot statue of J. Christ himself. The sisters asked us to please be quiet and respectful while we were read scripture. A booming voice came over the mic, explaining that he was the son of God and that he had come to rid us of our sins. The real question is: who gets the plumb assignment of playing J.C.?

At the end of the tour - keep in mind the only people on the tour were me, Bones, and some poor sap who had a long layover - the sisters announced they would be singing us a song. There was no where to run. They sang about Jesus, I tried to smile politely, Kerry stared at the floor. It was excruciating.

After the tune, they handed us a paper all about Jesus. It was blank on the back and the sisters said that was where we were supposed to write our thoughts about Jesus and then give it back to them.
"You really need to do it because if you don't, it will weigh on your conscience," Sister Acevedo said. We told them we'd get back and made a quick exit.