I have done many, many things today. Most notably, I have found myself in a beautiful hotel two miles from Zion National Park in Utah. But, before I got here, my family and I were unstoppably drawn to a tourist trap, about 15 miles up the road from our hotel.
The tourist trap, which has a name I cannot currently remember, served ice cream, had many relics of tourism, and a petting zoo with some carrot-obsessed alpacas, a donkey, a few horses, some deer, and a rabbit.
One of the features of the store inside was its extensive collection of hot sauces. I approached it skeptically, and soon found my suspicions confirmed: in the midst of so much hot sauce, there was not one bottle of Frank’s.
Fail, Utah.
At least you make up for it by being pretty.
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