My Detailed Description of my Great Visit to Moab

Ok, so it's probably not going to be that detailed, but the visit certainly was great. I went to Moab, Utah a couple of weeks ago with my friends, John and Chad. Let me kick it off by what happened during the first 40 minutes of the trip...

We decided to leave John's house in Morrison, and head up to Frisco where we would get a greasy gut-bomb McD's breakfast sandwich. Next thing I know, John decides he doesn't want to wait until Frisco and pulls off at the Idaho Springs exit. We find the Mcdonalds/Gas station, and get out of the car. A black volvo pulls up next to me on the passenger side as we get out. We go inside, the guy at the counter says" can I help you?" I said, "just a second, I'm deciding." Then I wait, and tell him I want my gut-bomb breakfast sandwich. It nearly instantly appears in my hand, as if God himself told Mcdonalds to have it ready for me. I paid, thanked the worker and walked by John and Chad as I went to the door. Here's where it gets interesting...I push open the door to see a wild scene....

There's a man in his 50's, standing in the gas station parking lot, with a good sized bulldog (I think it was a bulldog) in a choke hold. Yes that's correct, a chokehold. Standing next to him is an older hippie-looking stoner dude who is just looking at him and the dog. Next to him is his stoner looking hippie-wife ( I presume..) After my jaw hangs open for a minute, I realize that Chad and John have joined me, both with similar looks of astonishment on their faces. Only then, do I notice a 13/14? year old boy, who is sitting on the curb, with blood running down his arm. He is not screaming or crying, just sort of moaning to himself. Then I notice two other random people taking in the whole scene. Obviously, this kid was attacked by the dog.

My focus returns to the guy with the dog in the chokehold. He says to the hippie guy"Are you ready? He's about out cold and I'm going to set him down. Then he's all yours" The hippie guy sort of nods his head in some sort of stony agreement, and the man starts to lower to dog to the ground. Now, a couple of things enter my head. One, the boy seems to be ok, and I have no emergency medical training, so I am not going to focus on him at the moment. Two, the dog is NOT unconscious, and the man is about to release him. I'm thinking, "either that dog is going to attack the guy who had him in a head-lock, or he's going to attack myself or one of my friends. And all I have to fend him off is a greasy, soggy bag with my gut-bomb egg mcmuffin sandwich in it."

As the man goes to lower the dog, he looks right at me and says, "did anyone call 911?" I figured that one of the other witnesses had already done so, but I guess not. I walked immidiatly back into the gas station, and went to the counter. I asked the girl to "call 911 cause a kid was attacked by a dog." She looked at me and pointed to some dork who seemed to be the gas station manager. She said"he already did". I looked at the dork/manager, who had some white towels in his hand. I followed him back out into the parking lot where he attended to the still moaning boy. The dog was laying down on the ground next to the hippie guy, and the other headlock guy was giving him dirty looks and telling him he better "keep his f'ing dog inline." I couldn't agree more.

Now, John had made it into the car, and was waiting for Chad and I to get in so we could get the hell out of there. I looked down and saw the black volvo, with the rear door open, and a dog dish sitting on the ground. It was then I realized that the kid must have interrupted the dog as he was going to get a drink, and the dog was extremely upset. So he took it out on the kid's arm. I asked John to back out the car, so Chad and I could get in. He did, we climbed in the car and drove down the road. We looked at eachtoher for a minute....then we began to review the previous 4 and a half minutes of our lives. No one could touch his greasy gut-bomb sandwich.

We hit the interstate, and somehow our stomachs took over. We ate the gut-bomb sandwiches and left for Moab.