524 Main Street does not exist.
We drove all around town at 10 o’clock at night, in a rented SUV with Alaska plates.
I had a panic attack. I pulled into an Italian restaurant called Adolph’s.
Katie confirmed I was an idiot, and decided she would take over driving.
We parked in a garage, and walked up a hill for 10 minutes.
(Why is everything uphill, what do you people have against sea level?!)
Katie, we passed it.
Um, we didn’t pass it. The building is ummm…..not here?
Well, where did it go?
I have no idea. It should be right here between this pizza place and this…um….church? Maybe we ask somebody?
Maybe we need a port key like in Harry Potter?
Maybe it’s this street light. Oh, or this homeless guy. He has a beard, just like a wizard.
Yeah, well, I am going to run in this pizza place and ask around.
Yes. You go ask them, I’ll check with Dumbledore over here.
What did you find out?
They said there is no 524.
Well did you tell them the internet says there is?
Yeah, I mean, I showed them the address on my iPhone.
LIQUOR STORES DON’T JUST DISAPPEAR, KATIE.
I know, I’m not sure what we do now, did the guy over there know anything?
Who knows. He didn’t answer to Dumbledore or Santa, and got pissed when I asked if I could braid his beard.
Alright, well I guess we head back to that gas station that sold just beer.
But, it’s not even real beer. It’s Mormon beer.
Well, I only know of one other place you can get liquor, and we certainly aren’t taking you up there again.
So, that’s your angle, Utah? You lure me in with your gorgeous mountains and comfortable climates. You offer me amazing food, and a breathtaking hotel stocked with barely legal, Prince William look-alike concierge boys who call me miss and tell me I smell lovely.
And, just when I decide I love you, your plot twists.
You put all the good alcohol on top of mountains.
You charge me twice as much for beer with half as much alcohol in it, but three times as much holy spirit.
Why would I pay for holy spirit, when I can get it for free each night when my mom sneaks into my house and waves rosaries and holy water over my sleeping body?
I mean, that’s just poor math.
And then, you make up fake liquor stores on people’s iPhones, with ambiguous names like, Park City’s Only Liquor Store In 4 Bajillion Miles Seriously Come Now If You Want Real Booze And Not The Fake Kind P.S. We’re Totally Real And It’s Not At All A Trick, and we drive all over town trying to find it, and when we finally get to the address where PCOLSI4BMSCNIYWRBANTFKPSWTRAINAAAT should be, what do we find? A church.
You’re basically one Haley Joel Osment short of an M. Night Shyamalan movie.