There is an urban legend in SLC about a place of little houses, little roads, little cars, and little people. It’s missed by many, not only for being small, but because it’s hidden in a thick grove. I’m not really sure if this place—known as Hobbitville—exists, but one time I tried to find out.

One day my co-workers decided to investiage this, so during lunch we drove to the supposed location of Hobbitville. We drove down the street and saw nothing, so we drove back and noticed a “little” road that led deep into a thick grove of trees. A sign was posted that read, “no tresspassing.”

We pulled into a vacant lot across the street trying to decide whether we should (or even can) enter. The rumor is that the little people get angry and often throw things at outsiders. One guy questioned, “what if we’re attacked by a mob of little people?” to which I respond, “I think we’ll be okay; we’re in a suburban.”

Just then a young college student was walking by, and our driver rolled down the window.

“Excuse me, do you know where Hobbitville is?”
          “Yeah. It’s right across the street down that road.”
“Oh good. Have you ever been there?”
          “Um, no. I don’t really go stare at people who are different than me.”

At that moment I realized how embarrassing, disrespectful and immature this was, and I suggested we go get our lunch. But the student’s righteous rebuke didn’t even phase them. The mission was still a go.

We started down the driveway then stopped. Someone was standing there, but he was no little person. He was a (relatively) big Hispanic man with a rake. He stared us, and started walking towards us to which our driver immediately reversed and aborted the mission.

In the end, I guess I’ll never really know if there is a village of little people, with little homes, little cars, and maybe even little playgrounds. But I do know of some little people that make excellent chocolate (and I’m not talking about Willy Wonka. See here.).

**So if you date Jenny, please take her to the chocolate factory (but don’t actually call it the chocolate factory in the store; it happened once and wasn’t good) to buy her some chocolate, as well as meet her little friends.