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Steamy Nights in the Bed of Wayne


Steamy Nights in the Bed of Wayne

Megan Harrod

Last week I skipped out of Park City for a couple of days to travel to the middle of Utah for a little solitude. My destination was an unlikely one for the time of year: Mystic Hot Springs in Monroe Utah. It was 100 degrees. Hot springs with no cold plunge. I called a converted school bus named the "Ripple Bus" my home for two days. It had no fan. Sweat it out. Detox. All of that good stuff. Mostly, I was looking to spend time with myself. There is a difference between being lonely and being alone. I chose to be alone. Not always an easy choice for an extrovert, but I've learned to appreciate time solo.


The purpose of my journey was to write. I had a goal of writing the prologue and first chapter of my memoir. After all, the topic of solitude is as good of a place as any to begin, right? Clean slate, fresh start.

Two years ago, almost to the day, I moved to Utah. Last year, almost to the day, I returned from a solo journey to India and moved to Park City. As the memories swirl through my mind, I realize that I've experienced a lot. The memories remind me of where I've been and how far I've come, and all that I needed to experience in order to get here where I am today. To feel this. To have achieved what I've achieved. It all seems like worlds away, but it's all been meaningful and purposeful. And, it's been an oddly fascinating journey. I've been the happiest I've ever been, and the saddest I've ever been. I've felt it all. Sometimes, I wish I didn't do that. Sometimes, I wish my mind was more simple. Life would be easier.


It turns out, the 107 degree heat in the Ripple Bus was too hot for both me and my computer - we both overheated. Even so, I was able to assemble some thoughts that could be woven into the start of something. I'd love to share them with you, but I'm going to hold on that for now, until it's more solid. I will share some thoughts from the middle of Utah in a Ripple Bus...


I had drifted off to sleep in the bed of "Wayne" and awoke in a pool of sweat, half-naked in 107 degree temps. FUCK. Unfortunately, it's not as exciting as it may sound. I'm alone, in the back of a decrepit school bus called the "Ripple Bus" - but whose name is really "Wayne" - in a hippie hot springs village in the middle of Utah. I traveled here alone. I had to get away and find solitude in order to focus my thoughts and channel my creativity. "No drugs. No alcohol." the sign leading up to the two pools and seven tubs read. That didn't make sense to me. I was surrounded by absurdities and I loved it. A slew of worn-down pioneer cabins in a field to my right. To my left, a line of school buses - some converted into lodging, some playing home to heaping piles of junk. Up by the main office, an old pink school bus with the words "Le Boustique" in swoopy cursive letters on the top, and an empty pool with a slide and what looked like a sheep-herding wagon fixed to my was all perplexing. On the way to the office, a crystal wand with feathers, a sloth and a monkey adorned the tree next to a bus that said, "I have a dream!" written in white paint on the windows. I wasn't in Park City anymore. Thank God. I had to escape. Park City is the place I squat in the summers, in between travels. It offers up the most superb views, but like a postcard - it can be pretty one-dimensional at times. If you want change, make change. So here I start something I've only dreamed of, conceived of, whatever. Pen on paper, here we go. My story is a story of love, magic, heartbreak, bliss, exploration, new beginnings, misadventures, lessons learned, possibility, frustration, hope, authenticity, poopy pants and beyond. Today I'm 33 - the age of Jesus - and for the first time I feel my age. Maybe that's why I've finally sat down to write and share my story. Or maybe that was the CO gummy worm. Or delirium due to extreme heat. Either way, here I am Let's do this.

And so the journey begins...