A Really Long Story on How Marcus and I Came to Decide to Build a Snowman Today

In-N-Out Burger just opened their first stores in Utah, and, this being Utah, it’s a big ole deal. So far three stores have opened in our area and a fourth (and the closest one to our house) is set to open soon. Everybody’s talking about it. My students are talking about it. Marcus’ co-workers are talking about it. The local news is talking about it. The 4-month-old eggs in our fridge (who remember what Utah was like pre-In-N-Out) are talking about it. And Utah like. They like a lot.

Now, knowing that I lived in California for 16 years, where In-N-Out is ubiquitous and beloved, you might expect one of two reactions from me: 1) that I might shrug and say I’ve eaten a thousand In-N-Out burgers in my life and that their arrival in Utah is nothing noteworthy, or 2) that I might be way super excited to see a taste of California arrive here in Utah, to remind me of the good old days when I lived in a termite-nibbled apartment, driving a ’93 Ford Escort, and taking pains to avoid my psychotic neighbor, Brad.

But no. I had neither of those reactions. Instead, I was neutral. Utterly neutral. The fact is, I did not have my first In-N-Out burger until 2005, and I’ve had maybe two more in the years that followed. My first experience with In-N-Out came after I inadvertently revealed to my students that I had never eaten there before, a revelation they responded to with shock and disgust. “What’s the big deal?” I had asked.

“They make the best burgers anywhere,” I was told.

“I don’t know,” I skeptically challenged. “I ate at Carl’s Jr. the other day, and I gotta say, it was a pretty good burger.” Before I had finished uttering this sentence, my voice was drowned out with boos and hisses. They insisted I waste no time in visiting my nearest In-N-Out so I could see the error of my thinking. Carl’s Jr?…Seriously?

Well, I had skipped lunch that day. And there was an In-N-Out that I drove past every day on my way to and from work. And everyone knows that the best teachers let the students teach them (just kidding, but that sounded wise, didn’t it?), so I asked the students what I should get. “Double-Double,” several boys confidently advised. Not knowing what a double-double was, I pictured four greasy patties smashed inside a soggy bun (double-double means 2 patties x 2 patties = 4 patties, I reasoned). Then I pictured myself on a stretcher.

“I just want a plain, single-patty hamburger without cheese,” I begged. “Get a number three… with a chocolate shake,” I was instructed.

So I did just that, and… meh. The shake was pretty good. And the burger was decent but I was unamazed.

Flash forward nearly five years, and Utah is more excited about In-N-Out than they are about the new Twilight movie (and they are really, really excited about that). Neither Marcus nor I felt compelled to join those who were camping out at the new store (yes, camping out. with tents. for a hamburger.) but we agreed that once the hysteria calmed down, we might swing by for a quick burger. In and out.

Well, one day a couple of weeks ago we were running errands in Draper and decided to have an early dinner. We had somehow skipped lunch and here it was, 4:00, and we felt like eating. “This might be the perfect time to try In-N-Out,” Marcus suggested. I agreed, and since we were just around the corner from one of its new locations, we decided to hit the drive-thru and give the place another chance to impress us.

We turned into the parking lot and and saw that the drive-thru line didn’t end until the back entrance to the parking lot, opposite to the one through which we entered. “Wow. This is really long,” I said, as I saw a young man on foot in his In-N-Out  uniform, taking orders directly from the cars, just like in CA. We paused at the entrance for a second, deciding what we wanted to do. We were leaning toward deciding to skip it, when we noticed that there was a huge line of traffic idling on the dinky side street we were about to turn onto. Whoa. There must be an accident, I thought.

But then we noticed that all of these people were in the turn lane… the turn lane that turns into the In-N-Out parking lot. And the line was long. Like, literally a literal half-mile long. Literally. And that boy who I thought was taking orders? HE WAS DIRECTING TRAFFIC… rather poorly, sure (I nearly hit him) but directing it nonetheless (if putting both of your hands up in panicked fear while I slam on my brakes really counts as “directing”).

We skipped it.

But then last night Marcus and I were bored, and we decided that as long as we had an iPod with us to pass the time, we might find it bearable to wait in line at an In-N-Out drive-thru. This time we headed to the one on University Parkway in Orem, with the plan to bail and head down the street to Carrabba’s if the burger line spanned more than two zip codes. This time, the line really did just end at the other side of the parking lot, and the wait was only about 20 minutes.

Now, even though 20 minutes is a reasonable amount of time under the circumstances (an In-N-Out! In Utah!), it’s still a kinda long time to wait for a hamburger. So we spent a lot of time watching the nightlife scenery unfolding on University Parkway. Orem is a college town, home to UVU, and right next door to Provo, home to BYU, so as you might imagine, both towns get pa-retty ca-razy on a Saturday night. Root beer, Scrabble, Scripture Study. You name it. So there were lots of college kids walking up and down the street within view of our cozy, idling Rav. A few of them had stopped, we noticed, and after brazenly casting aside their Sprites, they got to work… Building a snowman! Right there on a small strip of grass between the sidewalk and the asphalt. And then we noticed that about five yards away, more college kids were building another snowman! Marcus and I were inspired.

After sitting in our car eating our double-doubles (which as it turns out is double meat, double cheese, not quadruple meat, and which really equates to a normal size hamburger almost anywhere else) we headed home, knowing that a big snowstorm was expected to hit later that night. When we got up this morning, our yard looked like this:

And our deck looked like this:

The snow was wet and dense. Snowman snow. So Marcus and I put on our jackets and gloves and began rolling, lifting, and sculpting. I don’t think I’ve ever built a snowman before, and as I found out, it’s good exercise. And snow, once it accumulates to something bigger than, say, a basketball, is heavy. Really heavy. Literally as heavy as a literal boulder. Literally.

Yes, it’s a little crude, and I could only find one stray branch which means our snowman has only one arm. But all in all, we were pleased with the results.

Handsome fellow, no?

100 points to the first person to correctly guess all of the items making up his face (bonus points if you know exactly what the eyes are. Those haunting eyes that look oddly and disturbingly familiar to you…)

Update:  Poor snowman!