Confession: when we first heard about goat yoga, we couldn’t help but scoff. People will make a fitness fad out of anything these days, won’t they? Still, we signed up…
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I’ll be honest: The only reason I agreed to go to Zoo Brew was because I was promised there would be no children there.
I ride my bike past Salt Lake’s Hogle Zoo all the time, yet have never harbored a desire to go inside their gates. You see, zoos have animals, and I’m not talking about the ones in cages. Oh, no—I’m talking about the feral masses of small humans, with their temper tantrums, their boogers, their yelling, and their completely oblivious parents. The monkeys are usually better behaved than most children at the zoo and let us remember monkeys throw their poo.
I know my sentiment is in the minority in “be fruitful and multiply” Utah, so I simply live and let live—the kids can have the zoo, and I go play with other types of animals behind the Zion Curtain. It’s cool.
But every now and then, the gods smile on the grownups and create an event like Zoo Brew, the Hogle Zoo’s after-hours event for adults only. For $10.95, the 21-and-over crowd gets an all-access pass to the zoo.
Cash bars, pouring Squatters beers and various wines, are stationed next to major animal exhibits, allowing patrons to imbibe with the lions, tigers, and bears (oh, my!). Food vendors elevate their offerings for the event to fit the tastebuds of the crowd, creating herb-marinated chicken or mac n’ cheese flavored with smoked pork belly and jalapeno. (Worry not, churro fans: your favorite zoo food indulgences of childhood are available as well.) Stars of the Utah Opera sing arias while seals glide and elephants wave their trunks in appreciation.
The event serves as more than just playtime for grown-ups: All proceeds from Zoo Brew go directly to conservation efforts around the world. Each Zoo Brew focuses on a particular animal in need of attention due to endangered status or threatened habitats—recent events have toasted the tortoise, tipped a long neck for giraffes, and poured ale for the apes.
Only one Zoo Brew remains for 2016—Wednesday Sept. 21, which is sold out. (The child-free zoo is a popular concept, as it turns out.) But change-of-plan ticketholders have been known to unload their tickets on Hogle’s Zoo Brew’s Facebook page, especially in the week leading up to the event.
For those who really want to go all out, tickets are available for Zoo Rendezvous, another adults-only event Thursday, Sept. 15. The $150 all-inclusive ticket includes unlimited samplings from local chefs and bartenders, live music, photo booths, and a silent auction. For more information, visit zoorendezvous.com.
I’m not the biggest fan of flying.
It’s not so much fear as it is annoyance: hurling through the air in a sardine can full of strangers (and their smells), bad food, and crying babies is not exactly my idea of a good time. And that’s when everything goes right—don’t even get me started on delays, turbulence, and the passenger in 8A who insists on fitting her steamer trunk of tacky souvenirs into the overhead compartment.
Which is why, when I attended the opening of The Leonardo Museum’s Flight exhibit, I did so with an abundance of eye rolls. “The wonder of flight,” my ass.
Inspired by the museum’s namesake, Leonardo da Vinci, Flight looks at the science, art, and technology of flying through the air. According to the opening panels of the exhibit, da Vinci was obsessed with the prospect of soaring through the air. Using bats, kites, and birds as inspiration, da Vinci came up with several prototypes of flying machines, none of which panned out.
He wasn’t the only one obsessed with aviation. As the exhibit weaves through the history and development of flight, visitors learn of the successes—and many, many failures—of our history in the air. Viewers learn about different types of flight: buoyant (think balloons and airships), aerodynamic (birds, ducks, and airplanes), and ballistic (arrows, fireworks, and space shuttles). Plenty of examples are on hand, including drones, a jet suit prototype and a fully-assembled C-131 aircraft to climb in and around.
Using The Leonardo’s trademark hands-on approach, visitors experience the critical elements of getting (and staying) up in the air. A pneumatic golf-ball launcher provides a physics lesson even young children can understand; constructing paper airplanes detail how shape and size affect aerodynamics; flight simulators indulge your “I could totally land the plane” fantasy. (Note: You probably can’t land the plane.)
Tucked away in a corner of the exhibit is a cluster of airplane seats facing a screen, where black-and-white frames flicker on the screen in a veritable blooper reel of our early attempts at flight: giant paper wings, pedal-powered propellers, explosions, and crashes—lots and lots of crashes. Watching the film, one can’t help but be hit with a sense of awe. After all, it really wasn’t that long ago we were flapping our paper wings like idiots. That we can now hurl through the air in a sardine can suddenly seems kind of…well, wondrous.
If only I could say the same about the passenger in 8A.
Flight is open to the general public. The exhibit is free with general admission ($12.95 for adults, $9.95 seniors and students and $8.95 ages 3-12. Children 3 and under are free). For more information, visit The Leonardo Museum website.
Our little Leonardo is growing up.
Since opening its doors in 2011, The Leonardo Museum has offered a one-of-a-kind experience to visitors. Just as Leonardo da Vinci was more than “just” an artist, his namesake museum is an unexpected—yet totally logical, once you see it—intersection of art, science, technology, and innovation.
The “big ideas, big discoveries” philosophy of The Leonardo caught the interest of traveling exhibits such as “Body Worlds” and “Mummies of the World” in recent years. Both have fared well with Leonardo patrons, selling out regularly and inspiring repeat visits. Though many museums would be content to have a steady rotation of guaranteed blockbusters bringing in the crowds, The Leonardo has set its sights higher—skyward, as a matter of fact.
With Flight, The Leonardo has curated its first original large-scale exhibit, an achievement many museums only dream of accomplishing. In the Leonardo’s totally immersive, hands-on style, visitors can explore the science, art and technology of flying through the air. Featured elements of the exhibit include a massive C-131 aircraft, flight stimulators, and a futuristic look at space exploration.
This weekend, the new exhibit will launch (pun intended) with a two-day opening event. On Saturday, August 6, a free public party will take place on Library Square, featuring hot air balloons, parachute jumpers, drones, and the Air Force X-1 Supercar. Don’t forget to look up—at 9 a.m., 12 p.m., and 3 p.m., a set of F-35s, the Air Force’s newest fighter jets, will fly over The Leonardo.
Upgrade to first class? Snag a ticket for the private Pilot Party instead. The 21-and-over crowd is invited to drink, dine, and dance in and around the exhibit on Friday, August 5 from 7-11 p.m. Tickets are $45 each and can be purchased at The Leonardo website.
On July 24, 1847, a determined company of Mormon pioneers realized their dreams upon entering the Great Salt Lake Valley. Pulling handcarts and driving wagons with oxen, they slowly trudged across the plains to a vast desert landscape. After exiting Emigration Canyon and cresting a small hill, the group’s leader, Brigham Young, looked out on the valley, took a deep breath, and told his followers:
“This is the pla—“
“YO! ON YOUR LEFT!”
The interruption took Young and the pioneers by surprise. Hundreds of people, clad in neon-colored spandex (and one in a Spiderman suit), trampled over the canyon in pursuit of a sub-three hour marathon.
“You guys better hurry,” one runner said to Young, gesturing in the direction of the finish line, “or they’ll be out of pie and beer by the time you get there.”
Wait, you say that’s not how it happened? Oh. Heh. Well, then.
Depending on who you ask, Pioneer Day is either a state holiday to celebrate the Mormon pioneers or a gentile’s day off work to eat pie and beer. But for a small subset of the population, it’s also a day to pursue land speed records at the Deseret News Classic.
Established in 1970, the Deseret News Classic is the oldest road race in Utah and the 4th oldest marathon west of the continental divide. In addition to the 26.2 mile distance, the event also offers half marathon, 10K, and 5K races. In honor of Pioneer Day, the races follow the path the Utah pioneers traveled when they first entered the valley. The marathon, for example, starts above Emigration Canyon and traverses through the area now occupied by the University of Utah and downtown before coming to a finish at Liberty Park; shorter races begin along the same route, closer to the finish line.
A July marathon is a rare thing in the United States, as most runners prefer to race long distances in the cooler temperatures of spring and fall. But most runners also prefer to race fast courses, and the Deseret News Marathon is fast, thanks to a 3,200 drop in elevation from start to finish. To address concerns about high temperatures, the starting gun fires at 5:30 A.M., allowing runners to avoid the heat of the day.
The crowd support also provides a rocket boost to many runners. Finishing along the Days of 47 Parade route, where many have camped out overnight for a primo viewing spot, provides a built-in cheering section for the race. Most of them really wish the runners would hurry up and finish so the parade can get started, but they still clap and offer polite cheers.
Though many runners stuck around Liberty Park post-race to watch the parade, quite a few darted off in search of pie and beer (likely at KRCL’s annual party at Beer Bar). Runners do have to replace those carbs, after all.
RESULTS:
31 year-old Jonathan Kotter of Salt Lake City, a former BYU runner, broke the finish-line tape of the marathon with a time of 2:25:01. Julie Jorgenson, 29, ran a 3:23:43 to take the top podium step for the women.
In the half marathon, former Weber State runner Brett Hales won the men’s race for the fourth consecutive year, sprinting across the finish in 1:04:19.1, while women’s winner Jasmine Sessions clocked in at 1:16:33.
In the 10K, Sandy’s Jason Lynch, a former UVU runner, won the men’s race handily in 29:15; Rena Chesser’s 32:57cinched the women’s race.
Thomas Merrill (19:41.8) and former Weber State runner Janae Richardson (20:30.1) won the men’s and women’s 5K races.
By Susan Lacke
Pre-show at the Peppermill Concert Hall in Wendover, a sign is projected on both sides of the stage:
NO SMOKING.
Naturally, when Andrew Dice Clay took the stage, the first thing he did was light up a cigarette. And then another. And then six more. Because he’s Andrew Dice Clay, and he does whatever the eff he wants.
Apparently, that includes show up whenever he wants. When opening act Shayma Tash took the stage, the crowd was excited and ready to laugh. Tash shot out of the gates with animated zeal, but something seemed amiss – why was Tash looking off-stage after every punchline?
Tash’s signature joke, a parody of the Home Shopping Network, should have been her strongest. In it, she takes a purse from an audience member and describes the contents with the over-effusive spirit of an on-air pitchman. The audience laughed heartily as she described the exterior (“It comes with a free shoulder strap! You can pull it to make it longer! I wish I could say the same about my husband!”).
Then the joke – and the enthusiasm – started to decline. After ten minutes of inventory, only polite laughter could be heard. Three Bic lighters and seven matchbooks for a pack of cigarettes is strange, yes, but not at a venue attached to a casino, where everyone wins the lung-cancer jackpot. Was it really necessary to describe each flame source in detail?
It became obvious Tash was stretching to fill the time (and stretch she did – the opening act ran only two minutes shorter than the headlining act).
Despite the mid-set dip (during which the glances at her off-stage crew became more noticeable), Tash finished strong, priming the audience for the headlining act with her edgy wit and physical, character-driven style of storytelling.
And then the real character appeared. Andrew Dice Clay sauntered onto the stage to a standing ovation, clad in his signature black clothing and leather gloves.
For the next 45 minutes, Clay paced the stage and unleashed the crude, foul, controversial and outrageous thoughts of his signature persona. No topic was off-limits: everything from Pokemon Go to the practice of, er, bleaching one’s “exit chute” was discussed. Filthy nursery rhymes were recited. The crowd went wild.
There were, of course, Mormon jokes. It was clear Clay was excited to be in spitting distance of Salt Lake City, where he could apply his no-holds-barred commentary to the stereotypes of the Mormon church. After delivering a particularly satisfying declaration about having sex with multiple wives, Clay gestured to a couple in the front row.
“You know what I’m talking about?”
Yes, they said, they actually did. They were polygamists. The male was at the show with his third wife. In their family, there were four wives and seventeen kids.
“You don’t say,” Clay replied, pulling up a chair to devour the rich fodder the Comedy Gods had bestowed upon this show. It was perfect.
Almost too perfect. As Clay conversed with and commented on the couple, it seemed like they were pitching softballs for Clay to knock out of the park. Something seemed fishy – a polygamist couple, in the front row at an Andrew Dice Clay show, talking so openly (and crudely) about their sex life? It didn’t seem right. Was the couple a plant? Were they trolling Clay? We’ll never know.
Then again, did the audience really care? After all, they came to see a character, not a TED Talk. Clay gave them that character, even if it felt a bit forced.
“I don’t even like country music,” said the guy behind me in the beer line. When I pointed out that we were, in fact, at a country music concert, he shook his head and laughed.
“Naw, man! Keith’s my boy! My boy!”
This is Keith Urban in a nutshell: country music for people who don’t like country music. At his ripCORD World Tour stop at USANA Amphitheater, Urban put on a show that seemed to transcend genre.
Photo by Brandon Mizar of Mizar Photography
Urban borrowed beats from R&B, a stage setup befitting a rock star, and the nimble guitar licks of classic rock. “The Phantom,” a techno-inspired mixing board that plays drum loops and samples from other songs in real time, featured prominently into the show. Even Urban’s hair seemed straight out of pop music, billowing beautifully in the wind a ‘la Beyonce and her wind machine (you know you’re a real star when you can out-Beyonce Beyonce).
But at his core, Keith Urban is very much a country artist. This eclectic combination of music meshed nicely for both new tunes from ripCORD (Urban’s 9th studio album) and in revamps of his number-one hits, including “Somebody Like You,” “Stupid Boy,” and “You Look Good in My Shirt.” While shredding on guitars and gango (a guitar-banjo hybrid), Urban’s fingers seemed to glide effortlessly over the strings. An easy smile graced his face from start to finish. This show, it was clear, was fun for the superstar.
And that, perhaps, is the key to Urban’s universal appeal. When the artist is having a blast, so does the audience. Between songs, Urban breezily talked with the crowd, eliciting much shrieking and swooning from the females in the audience. A preteen girl, holding a sign asking for a hug, was invited onto the stage (more shrieking and swooning). Halfway through the show, Urban made his way through the crowd (shrieking and swooning ad infinitum) to take his place on a small stage in the middle of the lawn seats for a three-song set. Despite the 100-degree heat, Urban had plenty of time and energy to spare for the audience. The crowd replied in kind.
“Wow, Utah,” Urban said as he looked at the crowd in amazement after a loud sing-along of “John Cougar, John Deere, John 3:16.” “Y’all are singing your asses off tonight.”
The crowd cheers in response made it clear: no matter the genre, Keith Urban is Salt Lake’s boy.
