Salted & Pickled Salt Lake Specimens: Y2K Edition

Every life form I’ve contacted has a different impression of what the 2000s were like. One remembers it as a bubbly, Frutiger Aero future of clean technology hovering in pools of aquamarine. Another recalls visuals of rebellious acts against a Bush-era war on terror, ignited by lizard milk SoBe and CKY. It’s as if the decade has refracted into different dimensions, unleashing various possibilities and outcomes. Plus, from what I remember from my prepubescent mind, Salt Lake City was changing like the timelines — out or away from stereotypical absurdities. So let’s power up the time-traveling Crosstrek (no DeLoreans here) to find what specimens run rampant in the cultural zeitgeist.

The Interstate Mad Man

The streets were getting more dangerous by the day. The endless diversions caused by construction and primary TRAX lines could drive a person mad. In an alternate version of 2001, where the rebuilding of the “spaghetti bowl” interchange resulted in the Wasatch Fault giving out, the Interstate Mad Man rose from the dust victoriously. Armed to the teeth with sporting equipment and whatever autoparts he could scavenge, he was a vicious entity enforcing a sense of “frontier justice” to the Mojave. When asked about what made his world go to shit, the Mad Man spoke in a civilized demeanor. “Progress, my dear friend — the false pretense of it all,” he says softly. “Bigger crowds brought bigger ideas with bigger budgets… pretty soon, society was buried by layers of asphalt.” For the Interstate Mad Man, his past remains grim, but those memories shine bright like beehive-shaped, fluorescent orange traffic cones.

The Scrapbooking Mother

It’s a human drive to archive a bit of our history, whether behind bullet-proof glass at the Smithsonian or hand-scribed in composition notebooks. The die-hard historians of life, however, reach almost obsessive levels when it comes to conservation. Fumgating a sharp scent of cinnamon and nutmeg, the Scrapbooking Mother meticulously captured every aspect and interaction in her life. Notice her bulging binder of photos and keepsakes, like a junk journal that’s archiving a landfill. Each page has been painstakingly designed with arts and crafts, as her frequent stops to The Quilted Bear made the place a second home. “I’ve stopped there seven times today,” she says. “I’ve added a new page with all my receipts.” Although cluttered, the Scrapbooking Mother has a type of tenderness to her that every day is a gift to be held — we must not forget. She is now enjoying her residence in Daybreak, powering through her newfound craze of dirty sodas and ketamine drips.

The 2002 Olympics Fanatic

The Winter Olympics landed at Rice-Eccles Stadium at the beginning of February 2002. A total of 78 global events commenced after the passing of the torch, signaling the return of unity to humanity. Through physical strength and sheer endurance, some may never forget this courageous event… and some need a piece of merchandise as a reminder. Or maybe 10 or 12 pieces. The 2002 Olympics Fanatic fell victim to such consumerism, loading their entire inventory marked by that blue, yellow and orange snowflake. (Looks more like a certain Kurt Vonnegut drawing to me, but I digress.) They racked it all up: navy blue berets, mugs, keychains, fry sauce and jello mold pins, even the sweater vest with a matching straightjacket! “Powder, Copper, Coal, Otto,” they kept rambling to themselves. As we inch forward to our 2034 winter games return, I’m sure the Olympics Fanatic will be personally funding the event by building their little rat’s nest of glorified knick-knacks.

The Jack Mormon

From straight-laced to straight-edge, the Jack Mormon created a half-life for himself. His missionary attire was altered beyond repair, trimming his Sunday blazer into a battlejacket of sorts (at least he kept his Elder nametag). His fresh sleeve of ink had some prominent features like “CTR” right next to “XXX” and the angel Moroni holding a picket sign saying “meat is murder.” Even though his style and ideals changed drastically, the Jack Mormon still held some conservative values underneath. You’ve just got to look past the gauges and rising coffee addiction. “I’m not ashamed of my heritage. I was just ahead of the curve,” he says. “The world is changing and from what I’ve seen, it’s changed a lot.” The Jack Mormon has now blended into his new 2020s environment, on the hunt for the latest cafe and the next issue of “some zine I saw at Club DV8.” That zine: SLUG Magazine.

Read more zany stories from SLUG Associate Editor Alton Barnhart:
Talking To Myself: An Interview With a Ventriloquist… Dummy
Skittlez: The Rapper Alter Ego from My Musical Past