Day 4, Mexican Hat

It's Monday night. We are eating at the cafe at the San Juan Trading Post motel in Mexican Hat




, Utah near the middle of Monument Valley. (See http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=81KNYpftWWw ) I'm having a salad with grilled chicken. Eric is having the trout. I'm also having one of the local beers. Check it out.




It's one of the more interesting labels you'll ever see. The brew isn't bad either.
There are a couple of cowboys at the table next to us who are in the area for a few weeks working on some sort of electric substation down the road. They are lining up shots of vodka and having a jolly good time. One of them is trying to help a German family learn to play pool. I don't think he realizes that his assistance is unwanted and that his inebriation is affecting his aim. The family is very patient and polite, as all of these European families tend to be. He told us that he lives in Arizona while his wife and kids live in Colorado. Ah, the life of a nomad worker in America these days. You got to get work where you can get it. I just wish he would drink a little less of his paycheck and send more of it home.
We got here around 5p.m. after riding a couple of hundred miles from the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. The going was a little slower, mostly because of the intense winds. There is nothing like going 65 mph on a canyon road while getting buffeted side to side by 15-20 mph cross winds. It's something that I will never get comfortable with, though Eric doesn't seem to mind it.
Tuesday Breakfast;
It's 9:15. I've been waiting for four hours for Eric to wake up. That boy sure can sleep. I've been nursing my coffee. Joey, my server, has refilled my cup many times, too many for me to remember. Joey is a Native American (Navajo) about my age, who looks many years older. He's had a very tough life and it shows.
I asked Joey a few questions not expecting the detailed answers that I got. My booth felt like a confessional as Joey sat across from me and shared his life story. He has been on his own since he was six. He has lived in orphanages, foster homes, sententious centers, shacks, tents, under bridges... anywhere he could lay his head. Joey moved up from Albuquerque three years ago.




He hated it there. It just couldn't stand living amongst Mexicans. He hated them. He said. "They think their sh*t don't stink." Harsh, i know. Joey's bigotry was difficult to listen to. He explains it off as too much exposure to Mexican gangs in prison. 16 of his prison years were attempted murder.
If you are interested in hearing more about Joey in his own words, see the two links below.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=24Bv7jlbdcI
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IVJYYe7jV7I
Have a great day.
-g.
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Location:Mexican Hat, Utah