come on, really?

When the flat topped manager swaggered up to us the other morning at our complimentary continental breakfast, we thought she was merely shooting the shit as they say. However, what we didn't know was that her detective styled sitting, you you know, backward chair with arms folded on the back (lee calls it the Duane Wayne), was in fact a 10am interrogation. What started as a "how'd you boys sleep last night" quickly segued into, "so why does your room smell like pot?"

Okay, it was at this point we completely thought she was joking aside for the fact
that when leaving, her parting words were "well, thanks for being honest". uhoh.

Fast forward 5 minutes and our rooms are filled with Utah's finest. Now, this isn't a story of stoners that slid past johnny law. Cuz that's just a dumb story. But the meat here is that we were in fact falsely accused of...a crime? So that's
how it feels. Later we ran into a couple of the police officers at a gas station. We had a laugh over our mutual stereotypes and were on our way.

Bye bye Richfield, UT. If we EVER see you again it will be way way way way way way way way...
too soon.