by Ernest Hogan
And suddenly, Idaho! The Gringo West. Away from Aztlán and the influence of Uto-Aztecan cultures. Still Sasquatchlandian, but away from the Pacific Ocean. No mermaids in this cool desert. Speed limit 50 mph on the 84 East. A different culture in the Great American Rasquache Mix.
I spilled coffee on my sketchbook in the gonzo tradition.
It got warm. I had to ditch my jacket while marveling at possible locations for the surrealistic spaghetti western of my dreams when I spotted something truly unexpected. A sign: MIRACLE HOT SPRINGS–CAUTION: ALLIGATORS.
Is that where they get the alligator meat for the jerky I keep seeing advertised?
Scenes of an alligator ranch flashed through my brain.
I Googled it–it’s real. There used to be an alligator farm in the area, which you’d think would be too cold. They have had gators since 1959. Now they only have one alligator, called Lola and then Alfie in two articles for 2024. Another mystery . . .
And not enough for the wide-screen reptile stampede I was imaging. Oh well . . .
Next was Burley. Mike pointed out a trucker driving and drinking a can of Coors as we approached via I-84.
I shed my overshirt and rolled up my sleeves. Saw a cybertruck, presumably on its way to Mars. There were lots of Chinese and Mexican restaurants, thrift stores, and weird photo ops in a post-apocalyptic environment.
I also found some emergency replacement sunglasses.
However, there was no deli in Rupert.
Then I put my overshirt back on. Those icy Idaho winds. Soon we were in Utah, home of the Utes, upper edge of Uto-Nahuatl country.
Of course, now there’s a strong Mormon influence, men’s and women's restrooms are on the opposite sides of buildings. It’s the same with the clothes in the thrift stores. The prophets forbid a young man might decide to try on a used temple dress. They would probably give Calamity Jane a bad time.
Then it got warm, I took off my overshirt again.
Farris Ice Cream in Ogden has a good selection of sorbet and sherbet for my lactose- intolerant guts. There were also full-size skeletons in Halloween drag. An employee and some local kids passing by were in punk/goth regalia. Looked like it was the local hip hangout, across the street from a Mormon temple.
Brown folks were on the streets and working in stores.There was also a spectacular neon dragon, and signs of Día de los Muertos. Could the fusion into Dead Daze happen here in a few years?
There was even graffiti in an alley.
Finally, Wyoming, and another cultural vibe. Billboards for cannabis, fireworks, and vaping were right across the border. I imagine the ice cream shop hipsters making pilgrimages.
We ate at a Costa Vida (the Mexican Panda Express). I asked for their hottest sauce on my burrito. Any sign of chili was overwhelmed by the barbecue sauce on the sweet pork. Like I said, the Gringo West.
Ernest Hogan's latest story, "Doula," is in Sound Systems: The Future of the Orchestra, now available to buy in paperback or download as a free ebook. Another adventure of Paco Cohen, Mariachi of Mars, will be in Xicanxfuturism: Gritos for Tomorrow/Codex II in February--meanwhile buy Codex I, where he's mentioned and there's a lot of stuff that will inspire you to survive 2026.
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