Nomad Chronicles, The Fifth Key: An Uncles Birthday, Mormons, and Queso

 The Texas sun was not so brutal on the way out as it had been on the way to El Paso. Overcast loomed overhead, promising the release of a precipitative kiss from an abysmally painted sky who woes were as merciful as its joy was piercing. I took to the streets in an unnecessary haste, as two of my Air BnB's were one-nighters. I'd aimed to arrive, bathe, and sleep. The reality of my trip out of El Paso became that I would visit both of my contacts in the evening, and having breakfast with one of them as well.

 It felt as though I'd gripped the Milky Way itself and forced it to turn backwards for a short spell, as my dented-up Toyota Matrix charged forth along the highway, the air screamed a harrowing epic which transcended my earphones for much of the journey.

 I remembered a bluetooth speaker which my uncle'd gifted to me some years ago. I'd connected to it, switched to Funhouse Radio, and blared it along the Texas desert. Although only myself and the other motorists along the barrenness of Texas would jam to it, the tunes were dank, the volume did crank, and at the end of my first days drive, of sweat I stank.

 I'd received a text from the priestess of Deerfield Beach, I was not there to gift her or her family with sweets as I normally did during visits. Because of this, she wanted pictures of York Mints to know that I was still thinking of them. During my first stop at a Buc-Ee's (literally ever) I took a picture of me holding a York in front of their sign and texted it to her.

 I arrived at my Air BnB for the night, and it was fancy, far nicer than anywhere I'm used to staying. The hostess hadn't prepared the room for me, but that was fine. The rest of the house was immaculate and a made bed doesn't phase me anymore than a messy one as long as there are no liquids upon the sheets. She told me where I could find new sheets and I was happy to bathe and get some sleep, but not before one more trip for the night.

 I eventually met my uncle in the Leander area after passing many deer carcasses along the road. I'm not sure if you, dear reader, have ever seen a Toyota Matrix. I'm not sure if you know how solid they are, how their hull stands up to an impact, if you would be so inclined. I was not eager to hit a deer, both because I don't want to hurt animals and because I don't want to fold like a paper-plane.

 My uncle lives in the middle of nowhere in a pre-designed home, but he lives with a loveable black lab named GG. We joked around for a few hours, talked about the good times in our family, and my uncle brought up his investments in addition to his flipping of silver. I was happy to hear that he had something that kept him stable and that he was happy with life. 

 The following day was my uncles birthday, so we went to breakfast in the town of Leander. I discovered that I do in fact like corn beef hash. 

 Dear reader, I ask you to ponder to yourself the following: "What is happiness?" "What is friendship?" "What is queso?" 

 Worry not dear reader, you needn't ponder long. In the following paragraphs I will answer all of these puzzling ponderings in the most blunt of answers.

 I arrived at my next Air BnB in the early evening of my uncles birthday after having had breakfast with him. My hosts had a pristine home, nothing was seemingly out of place. There were games and puzzles, there was a well-stocked kitchen, the hosts son and his spouse were there to greet me. There was something missing, a coffee-maker. Not super-peculiar, but telling nonetheless. They were extremely courteous, my sons host was well-versed in linguistics and programming. He'd been to Russia and Argentina, his sister was soon to visit the Dominican Republic.  

 He'd slipped it into the conversation that the family was Mormon. The lack of a coffeemaker all made sense now. I had an empty can of coffee-flavored Monster in my car, and a feeling of guilt in my gut where the deliciousness of coffee-flavored chemical nightmare used to dwell. Mormons can't have mind-altering substances, and I'd been told that this included coffee. There was no way in heck (not hell, this is a Mormon home) that I was going to throw away the can in their house like I'd planned.

 After meeting the hosts son, I showered and prepared to meet my friend in a nearby city. Even with events being overwhelmingly positive in my travels, I now had two worries on my mind. The first of the two was that my job had recently reduced my presence and by extension my pay greatly so I'd need to find more work online. The second was that I am in possession of a Book of Mormon which belonged to my late grandfather, which my father stole from his casket during the wake. I wanted to know what I should do with it, what would be ethically right and allow my grandfather to rest in peace. I pondered upon asking my hosts son what I should do with it, and no productive ends came to mind. I am not a Mormon (I am a Norse Pagan,) my father is an anti-Mormon (that is to say he breaks as many rules as their religion has as humanly possible.) I did not want to upset my hosts, so I remained quiet about the matter.

 I met my friends at their house in a nearby city, being that it was Oklahoma I expected a ranch, horses, and everything else that you'd find in a TV show with John Wayne. I was disappointed, it was a regular neighborhood outside of a normal city-center. I parked my car and waited for my friend to return after picking up his wife at the ranch where she kept her horse.

 We went out for Mexican food (American Mexican food) and shot pool at a bar. 

 When we went for Mexican (American Mexican) food they served us queso blanco, salsa, and nachos. You'll recall earlier that I'd asked you "What is queso?" My dearest reader, I am an adult, I pay my phone bill and my credit card on time (fingers crossed.) I replace my oil regularly, I used "to whom it may concern" in my emails. I also eating queso and nachos as though it were bath time and the queso water the water because I was covered in the stuff and my friends were mildly amused, I even got them on my birth-control glasses (which, let's be honest, made them more effective.)

 We then went to a bar to shoot pool, as I'd mentioned, but also as I'd mentioned, my hosts were Mormons. I let Drew know that I wouldn't be drinking out of respect for them, as I had my shirt in my mouth trying to eat whatever queso I could mine from my shirt.

 The whole night I'd made dad jokes, however in my defense they started it and I warned them. We shot two games of pool, I won the first game, but tanked in the second. In the end there were laughs, there were friends, and indeed there was queso.

 I arrived at my Air BnB in Carbondale the following evening, wide-eyed and wondering what the future would hold for me in this city.