the one with the bridge

Great things happen at the Market Street Grill. The one with the bridge across the creek. Like the time we saw someone famous in the lobby. We joked about going up and introducing ourselves, but he was out the revolving door before we mustered up enough courage to do anything about it. We trotted across the bridge (you have to trot, or run; it's so much better that way) and found the semi-famous person right by our car. He had locked himself out and needed to borrow a phone. He used ours and then struck up a friendly conversation which lasted until his manager brought him keys. He opened his trunk, filled with cds and gave us one to say thank you.

And then there was the time that I ate crab legs. The last time I had crab was in San Fransisco and everyone got so sick we spent the night in the hotel puking our guts out. But, it's amazing what you'll do when a very handsome man tells you you're going love it (especially when he's buying you your most favorite steak in the whole wide world, plus dessert.)

And then there was last night. We sat right by the windows facing the bridge. We watched people walk back and forth the whole night. Friends. Families. Husbands who made the bridge wobble so their wives had to hold on tight to their arms or else they'd lose their balance. Mid-meal, we laughed so hard about a really great story that I smacked the table, which made the plates and the silverware rattle and everyone stared, which just made us laugh harder.

When we got outside, the sky looked like rainbow sherbet and the clouds were fluffy like angel food cake. We decided we had to drive west towards the sunset until we got to the Great Salt Lake, or until it got dark, which ever came first. We took pictures with my phone, because that's all we had.