August, Wyoming

I’m sitting here on the banks of the Snake River as it passes through Grand Teton. It’s warm, calm, and altogether as peaceful a place as you’ll come across out west. Dragonflies coast low over the water like pelicans from saltier environs. There are no sounds to speak of, save the cast of fly fishermen in the distance, hoping the scheduled sunset brings with it a trout worthy of dinner and Instagram.

The hills in the distance are more voluptuous and bottle-shaped than their Colorado counterparts. Here, they’re more a show of hospitality, less an episode of America Ninja Warrior.

If these hills had eyes, they would be privy to a view unlike any I’ve come across in twenty-eight and a half years (twenty-nine at the time of this transcription) on this planet. Great, jagged peaks looking out opposite these hills the stereotypical kind a fourth grader would pen as a hand-drawn mental escape from an unwanted algebra class. They rise out of a lake the aqua equivalent of The Giving Tree. Water so glassy, you’d think making wake would be a federal crime.

And perhaps the most shocking and most enjoyable part about this place is what you won’t find. There are no hyper-bros with GoPros on selfie sticks doing backflips off party barges. No hunters getting out of an F-350 Super Duty with “sporting rifles” dead-set on shooting an animal worthy of a supporting role in a Thomas Kinkade painting. No enemies, just friends. It sounds about like an Outback Steakhouse slogan, but damnit it’s true. It’s a similar feeling to the one you get stepping into a place of worship. Everyone wants to be their best self. Full stop.

After about an hour of this impromptu riverbank near-meditation, a familiar sound and feeling brings me back to the world I left: my fucking iPhone vibrating, asking me if I’m going to attend some gahdamn recurring meeting that I’m absolutely not going to attend because I’m on vacation in fucking Wyoming.

I calmly decline the meeting invite and glance at my other push notifications to make sure the world is still in one piece. And despite Supreme Leader Un launching some missiles over Japan like McDonald’s golden arches, it’s still there. Pretty fucked, but there.