It's the end of an era in quietly quaint Murray, Utah. One of our proud city's favorite landmarks was torn down. As I drove by while getting gas at Costco, I watched as two giant wrecking balls smashed the walls of our beloved tavern of sin. I felt a tear of sorrow drip down my face and onto my Hyundai floor mat. As it splashed, I felt a sense of shame that a classy, elegant strip saloon could meet such a fate. I sat in my car and wept. How could something like this happen?
Southern Exposure sat just four blocks northwest of our house, and it was not a show about a doctor that travels to Alaska to practice medicine. I had never actually stepped foot in this swank establishment, but drove by it almost daily. It's beautiful architectural stylings and enormous, lighted sign melted your heart like a baby's laughter on a warm summer's day. How could something like this happen? How many parking lots does a hospital with dying people need? It's not like this is a children's hospital. These people are grownups, they can walk another two blocks.
Something does not smell right here, and I don't mean the old, discarded string bikinis at the bottom of the pile of rubble.
I for one, am taking a stand. Because of this, there are 10-15 women out of work (although I am sure they have "other" jobs... The word "other" is in quotes because some may not refer to what they do as jobs.), the redneck value of my home has plummeted and there is an emotional scar on the city. This is a sad, sad day for Murray and one that I will not soon forget. As I wrote this, another tear just splattered into a million pieces on my livingroom floor.