No Dogs Allowed

Nearing the end of August in 2016, after having spent 2 or 3 weeks in Colorado, Zach and I decided it was time to move on. We didn’t know where exactly we would go, as we often didn’t. Our only destination was onward. I drove west along Interstate 70. We kept a keen eye on the lookout for mile marker 419.99. The 420 mile marker had been stolen so frequently that the highway department changed it in effort to quell the thieves. I don’t know if it worked. We stopped briefly in Grand Junction. There, a man we had never met before used sharpie to draw on the back of Zach’s guitar. After only a night, we continued our journey west.

Zach drank frequently, often having open containers in my car even as I drove. I didn’t really mind, mostly because I couldn’t fathom telling him no. Besides, it had yet to cause us any trouble. While driving along interstates, I rarely ever saw police, and I figured as long as I wasn’t drinking and driving, it was fine. This day, in late August, the sun was hot in the desert of Utah. The rocks were different there than they had been in Colorado. They were all the same mountains, but the colors were more red, and the feel was more desolate. Colorado had been a lot more lush, and I found myself missing the scenery. Thus far into our adventures, the first rest area in most states had turned out to be a lucrative place for Zach to play guitar for money. They tended to be full of travelers, though of a different sort than we were. We’d hoped the same to be true in Utah, but the closest rest area was 40 miles from the state line. I drove while Zach kept drinking.

When we arrived at the rest area, we realized it was clearly not a spot to set up shop. It was practically deserted, and well, it was in a desert. The dog we got in Florida, Righteous, needed out to relieve herself. The grassy area had a sign saying “No Dogs Allowed,” instead, the designated pet area was rocky and full of those spiky burrs that get caught in your dog’s paws. Zach took Righteous and I went into the building to use the bathrooms. When I came back, Zach and Righteous were already back in the car, with them was the “No Dogs Allowed” sign. I sighed.

“Really?” I asked Zach.

He just laughed in response. As I was about to pull the car out of the rest area, a man approached the driver’s side window. He said that someone informed him we’d stolen his sign. At first, I tried playing dumb and told him I didn’t know what he was talking about. He insisted I did and said he was going to call the police if I did not give it back to him. Zach, by this point, was belligerently drunk. Close to blacking out. Barely there. He yelled out to the rest area manager, “Fuck you!” and he insisted that I drive away. However, the manager had stepped behind my vehicle to see the license plate and was on the phone. I grabbed the sign off the floor of the back seat. I tried to hand it to the man, but he ignored me. I dropped the sign on the ground, and moved to pull away.

“I’ve got your license plate!” he screamed. Before this interaction, I had never so much as been pulled over by a police officer. I was not in the business of leading them on a high speed chase, so, though Zach begged me to just drive away, I put the car back into park and rolled myself a cigarette from the dried out tobacco we’d bought a few days earlier. Zach laid in the back, nodding in and out of consciousness. Meanwhile, the rest stop manager continued talking to the dispatcher. I didn’t know what to expect, but what transpired next certainly was not it.

The police officer pulled into the rest stop. I prepared to tell him it was just a misunderstanding, that my stupid boyfriend was making stupid choices, but that we were leaving anyway and wouldn’t be anymore trouble. However, before I could make any move, the officer had his gun drawn and pointed toward my vehicle. He asked that we both step out of the vehicle. The front windows of my car were rolled down, and Righteous was going crazy. She was barking viciously, and I wasn’t sure what would happen if I would let her go. I frantically tried tying her leash to something so that she could not jump out of a window. Meanwhile, the officer was yelling at me to put my hands up and get away from the car. I tried to explain to him what I was doing, but as soon as I opened my mouth, he was only yelling louder.

 Somehow, I managed to secure Righteous, step away from my car with my hands up, and not get shot. I told the officer I had done nothing wrong, and Zach stealing a sign did not warrant getting a gun drawn on him. The officer ignored me, having Zach get down on the ground. I watched the entire ordeal. The cop yelled at me to turn around and stop looking at him. I was annoyed. I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong, and I knew there were no rules against watching a cop. I refused to turn around. He spoke to me, “If you don’t stop looking at me, we are going to have a problem.” I finally spoke my mind. “It isn’t illegal to look at you. I haven’t done anything wrong!” Maybe there was something in my tone. He didn’t press the issue further. He did, however, put handcuffs around Zach’s wrists and put him into the backseat of the police car.

I couldn’t believe it. Even after I had returned the sign to the rest stop manager, they were arresting Zach. I thought they could not be serious. I even asked the officer, “How can you arrest him on theft charges when we haven’t even left the premises, and we gave the stolen object back?” I don’t remember how he responded. The officer seemed simultaneously to feel bad for me and to look down on me. He said, “If you have any of his drugs in your car, I’d suggest getting rid of them now.” I scoffed. We didn’t have anything illegal in the car, and I was insulted he assumed we must. He told me the closest town was an hour away. Moab, Utah. He said I could follow the police cruiser there, and that I should wait about an hour after that before calling the jail to see if they’d booked him.

Instead, I sat in the rest stop parking lot for an hour. I called a friend on the phone. I was beyond stressed and frazzled. I had not been alone on this entire journey, and I was terrified of what being alone meant. Thankfully, I at least had Righteous. If not for her, I’m certain my experience would not have gone as smoothly as it did. I finally made my way to Moab, calling the County Jail once I got there. However, Zach had still not been booked. I decided to take the few bucks I had to buy a snack and a pack of cigarettes. I went up to the counter, asking the man for a pack of Marlboro Black 100s. The transaction was nearly complete when the man noticed my “Class of 2016” lanyard around my neck.

“That’s not yours is it?” The cashier asked.

“Uh, yeah, it is,” I told him, confused.

“How old are you?” He asked.

“Eighteen,” I answered honestly.

“I can’t sell these to you! You have to be 19 to buy tobacco in Utah,” He thanked me for being honest. I walked out of the gas station, nearing tears.

Eventually, my phone began ringing. It was from the jail, but because my phone was prepaid, I was unable to answer it. Zach’s cell phone remained with me, and he called it eventually too, but by the time I went through the prompts on the phone, he’d already hung up, thinking I wasn’t answering. This happened two or three times, and I began crying from the stress of it all. Finally, he called his phone one last time and I was able to answer before he hung up.

He told me that he was only being arrested until he could get to court, but since Moab was such a small town, they only had court once a week. This was on a Sunday. Court would not be in session until Wednesday. I would have to spend three whole nights by myself in a strange town. I had no money, no food. I had never busked before. I was beyond mad at Zach for abandoning me, but I was scared, too. I was at least confident in my ability to find a place to sleep overnight. I found a hotel parking lot, and stayed there that first night. It was difficult to sleep, but Righteous’ company was relieving and I managed. The next day, I knew I needed to figure something out. The only thing of real value I had was my clarinet, and I decided I was going to take it to the pawn shop to get bail money. Zach’s bail was set at $3,800, but I thought I could get him out with the 10% required fee.

The pawn shop didn’t open until 10 AM, and I had a couple hours to kill. I walked down the street that lead to the shop, and there, I saw a lady sitting on the curb smoking a cigarette. I approached her, cautiously, and used my newfound skill of asking a complete stranger for a cigarette. Immediately, she was annoyed. She went on a rant about how people feel so entitled to other people’s things that they will demand strangers give them cigarettes. I didn’t know how to deal with this woman, so I simply told her it was okay if she did not give me one. Defeated, she sighed and gave me one. She handed me a lighter, and I sat next to her. I told her about Zach being in jail. I told her I was waiting for the pawn shop to open so I could get him some bail money. She felt bad for denying me a cigarette. I assured her it was no problem. I understood how annoying it could be when other people wanted to take away the things you’d worked to earn.

We sat there, chatting for a few minutes as we each finished our cigarettes. She went back inside her house and I remained seated for another 15 minutes. By then, it was time for the pawn shop to open. I took Righteous on a walk to let her potty, then returned her to the car. I would leave my car locked and running with the air conditioner on for her. She didn’t seem to mind. I walked into the pawn shop, clarinet in hand, determined to get Zach out of jail. I explained to the men the situation. They, too, seemed to feel sympathy for me. They really wanted to help. I told them that I could return the money as soon as Zach got out of jail, but that wasn’t true. They told me that clarinets don’t sell, so they really wanted me to come retrieve it with cash later. I assured them I would, I simply was in a bind.

I didn’t want to part with my clarinet. It really felt like the last thing I had to hold on to my past self. Even currently, there are not many things I have from my childhood. All of my material things got lost in the mix somewhere along the line. Even so, I could not imagine the possibility of spending another night without Zach. I was desperate to get him out of jail and back to me. The men at the pawn shop gave me the exact amount of money I had needed to bail Zach out of jail. I called a bail bondsman. Then, it was explained to me that since Zach and I were not from Utah, there was a risk associated with letting him be bailed out. They would not accept only 10%. I would have to pay the entire $3,800, or Zach would remain in jail until he could go to court.

Later that day when Zach called, I explained to him what happened. I left out the part about pawning my clarinet. I thought he would think less of me for doing so. I told him I’d actually made the money by playing the 3 songs I’d learned on his guitar in front of a gas station. I wanted to impress him. I wanted him to know I was capable of holding my own, taking care of myself. We were dismayed that he would have to spend another two days in jail, but, he lamented, “It’s not so bad. What they say is true. Three hots and a cot.” I envied him. He was safe, secure, well fed. He was probably socially entertained. Meanwhile, I was in a constant state of anxiety. I could not do anything to occupy myself. I could only sit around and fret. I didn’t have any food, but now I had $380. Instead of returning the money right away, I stupidly abandoned my clarinet. I bought food from a Hardee’s. I set out food and water for Righteous. We chowed down.

On the third day by myself, I was finally calming down enough to be able to focus on something other than the fact that Zach was in jail. I found a trail that went around a local high school and took Righteous on a walk. We found graffiti, stickers, and a small creek. The trail was beautiful, especially as the sun set. Mountains surrounded us. They are a presence, demanding to be paid attention to. I could not stop admiring the beauty that surrounded me. I felt as if I existed in a dream, and that the things I was seeing were too perfect to be real. I was in a permanent state of wonder.

I still felt as if I was deprived of human connection. It was around this time I called Liam. I told him of my adventures unto this point. He thought it was the greatest thing ever, and he yearned to join me. I encouraged it. Yet, that would never come to pass. That night, I went to the parking lot of the hotel I’d been staying at. Not in a room, I simply parked my car and slept there in the lot itself. This time, however, there was a security car patrolling. I got nervous and left immediately. There were only two hotels in the entire town, so I tried my hand at the other one. It worked fine. Righteous and I settled in, praying that Zach’s court appointment would go well the next day.

Wednesday arrived. I went to the court house the moment I woke. I did not know what time Zach would be going to court. At 9 in the morning, I walked in, found the courtroom, and sat down. Around 9:30, a slew of inmates entered the room. Everyone who had been arrested since the previous Wednesday was there. Zach, the most recent arrestee, would be last. I sat and watched each case with interest. The first man spoke broken English. He had been arrested for possession of paraphernalia. He entered a guilty plea. However, upon asking more questions, the judge realized that the paraphernalia did not belong to the man being charged. He had been borrowing a friends car, and had no idea that the pipe was in the glove box, when he just happened to get pulled over and searched. The judge rescinded the man’s guilty plea, entering a non-guilty plea for him instead. A new court date was set.

Some other inconsequential cases took place. A man was trying to get out of a speeding ticket. The judge wasn’t having it. “You will pay the fine, or you will serve jail time.” Finally, it was time for Zach. He was being charged with theft and vandalism. For the vandalism, he was let go with time served. For the theft, he was ordered to pay a fine. It was told to him if he did not pay the fine, there would be a warrant for his arrest. Zach agreed, eager. He would get out of jail that day. Court ended. I was elated, though Zach couldn’t come with me right away. He blew me a kiss with one of his shackled hands. His orange jumpsuit ruffled as he walked away.

I spent the rest of my free time taking Righteous back to that trail. It took hours for the jail to process Zach to get him out, but finally, around 5 pm, he called me to come get him. He wasn’t interested in the slightest in sightseeing or even continuing through Utah. He wanted to head back to Colorado, regroup, gather our bearings. I couldn’t have said no. What else was there to do? Zach decided he was not going to pay his fine. I was not going to pick up my clarinet. We each had our own rationalizations. Our own secrets. Our own ways with coping with the life we’d made for ourselves.

It disappoints me that I could not do more with my time without Zach. It was like I’d become a shell of myself without him. It was around this time that I realized just how codependent I’d become with him. Just how much I was willing to put up with, because it was better than the thought of being alone. Facing that empty void created a feeling of dread. Yet, watching Zach as he stumbled drunkenly through cities we’d never been to filled me with dread, too. Even with Zach, I was alone. I couldn’t be honest with him. I couldn’t talk to him about how I felt. All I could do was take care of him, drink with him, and marvel at how I’d gotten there. I still can’t be sure.