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Show A-16 The Park Record SatSunMonTues, July 17-20, 2004 MORE DOGS ON MAIN STREET By Tom Clyde A simple solution to air travel THE. CANYONS PARK CITY i UTAH 4 8 flOUNTAINS- -1Mb TRAILS 3iSD0 ACRES 3,110' VERTICAL 1 M GPS LOCATION: LATITUDE Nt0M0.S?2' LONGITUDE Will0 35.514 You just found powder stashes in The Pines and you think "Now this is a Season Pass that will actually take a season to use." HURRY! Prices increase September 6th. Pay only $100 now! Put down .a $100 deposit before the.early .ea.sp deadline (September 6,; 2004 Labor Day) ' and reserve your pass at the early price. Remainder must be paid by 103104. Through 9604 Passholder New After SeaSOn PaSSeS Renewal Passholder 9604 Full Adult Pass $699 $729 $859 (Valid 7 days a week no blackouts) Adult Midweek Pass $540 $565 $599 (Valid Sun-Fri, not valid 1227-123104, 220-22705) Summit & Wasatch County Student (grades K-12) $119 $119 $119 Summit & Wasatch County Honor Roll $70 $70 $70 Senior (65) $350 $370 $459 Through 102304 After Renewal New 102304 Utah College Students $349 $370 $429 Electronic Coupon Book Adult 5-day Adult 10-day Adult 1 5-day JuniorSenior 5-day JuniorSenior 10-day JuniorSenior 15-day Through 9604 $225 ($45 per day) $410 ($41 per day) $585 ($39 per day) $135 ($27 per day) $260 ($26 per day) $345 ($23 per day) 9704-102304 $235 ($47 per day) $440 ($44 per day) $615 ($41 per day) $140 ($28 per day) $270 ($27 per day) $360 ($24 per day) Seniors are defined as 65 or older. 6 and under ski free on day tickets or may buy a pass -for a 545 service fee. Electronic Coupon Books are offered to Utah residents only. Must show proof of Utah residency to receive locals pricing. $100 deposit is non-refundable. Prices subject to change. Pass rates are based on the age of the passholder on November 15. 2004. Other restrictions may apply To purchase your pass, call 615-3410 or log on to www.thecanyons.com Adult Passholder Benefits Free parking pass for first come, first serve parking in Sundial Lot next to Sunrise lift. Guest passes for only $54 (limit 1 ticket per day, per pass) I Midweek Pass holders may purchase passes for themselves during blackout dates for $52 i 10 savings on food, ski or snowboard rentals, Ski & Snowboard Adult group lessons ' (excludes holidays) Save 25 on lift tickets at Steamboat in Colorado Included in your Season Pass purchase is a one-year subscription to SKIING magazine. (This offer valid in US only. One per household.) 20032004 Adult passholders can get your pass in the mail just give us permission to use last year's picture. -. 4 EXPLORE EXPERIENCE.: DISCOVER. T1IE Canyons PARK CITV, UTAH www.thecanyons.coi 1 didn't really like to fly even back in the good old days when it was supposed to be a pleasant pleas-ant experience. But between the security issues now, and the fact that most major airlines are bankrupt or close to it, it has become a downright unpleasant experience. For the last couple of years, I've had some business that takes me to Boulder, Colo, a couple of times a year. I've usually driven in the summer months and flown in the winter, though last year I reversed that, and drove over and did some skiing on the way home. So this time, I flew over for the summer meeting. If I flew more often, I'm sure it would be easier. It seems like every time I go to the airport, they have rearranged things. Just when I get Delta figured fig-ured out. the cheapest fares turn out to be United, and I have to start all over again. The check-in process was terribly confused. The line for security had built up parallel to the lines at the check-in counters, making it very difficult to tell which one you were in. After a 20-minute wait, people were not happy to learn that they had been in the wrong line. Just to complicate it. there were about 300 members of a Chinese tour group in front of me. They didn't did-n't know which line they were in, didn't understand the , process, and of course. didn't find signs writ-- " ten in English very useful. They were taking their shoes off in the check-in line, then putting them back on. then figuring fig-uring out that they were in the security line after all. and taking them off again. All that tai-chi stuff seems to have come in handy for them as they balanced bal-anced on one leg to put their shoes back on. The electronic check-in kiosks at Delta are out where you can see them. At United, they have them pretty well hidden, and only after you have waited in line do you stumble across them. Those are pretty cool -- stick a credit card in and it prints up your boarding pass. Security at Salt Lake, despite a long line, moved pretty well. They give you a plastic bag early in the line to put all your pocket stuff in. When you get to the x-ray machine, it's all in a clear baggy and sails right through. On the other side, you pick it all up and move out of the way rather than slowing the line while fumbling to get little stuff sorted out and in the right pockets. Coming home was a little different story. First of all. the Denver airport is in Nebraska. It's a really cool building, but it's so far away from the city that you kind of wish there were some way to fly there. Security at Denver was slow. I got to the point where I could split off to any of several checkpoints. It was the great line dilemma. dilem-ma. My choices were to get in line behind an old lady and quarrelling couple, or a woman with young children and a big stroller. I gambled on the Coming home was a little different story. First of all, the Denver airport is in Nebraska. It's a really cool building, but it's so far away from the city that you kind of wish there were some way to fly there. " woman with the kids. You can't be right all the time. The person doing the screening seemed to think that there was some urgent national security reason rea-son to make the mother and her two-year old go through the screening machine separately. The two-year old was not really big on being set down in a strange place while mommy walked away, or walking through the gate alone while mommy waited. wait-ed. I would have thought she could hold the kid and walk through, and if the alarm went off. do some extra screening. But the TSA people would have none of that. The ensuing tantrum from the two-year old shut things down. Meanwhile, the old lady was finished showing the photos of her grandchildren grand-children to the screener and moved on. At the gate, there was the usual assortment of humanity. Everybody was staring anxiously at a woman who had to weigh 300 pounds. She was sitting sit-ting sideways on the lounge chair because she couldn't fit between the arms. Those seats are at least double the width of the seats on the plane. Compassion has its place, but it isn't in coach. People were visibly counting passengers, pas-sengers, trying to determine if there would be enough empty seats to let her have a row to wmmmmmmmmmamm herself. There were several sev-eral toddlers in the mix, each cute as can be, but carrying the potential for a bawling fit all the way. Fortunately, that all worked out. Once we boarded, the plane taxied out from the terminal. It taxied some more. Then it waited for a while, and finally taxied awhile longer. When we got to Grand Junction, it finally took off. Back in Salt Lake, the hardest part of the trip was getting out of the parking lot. I swear the exit has not been in the same place two days in a row. I kept following the "exit" signs but they just kept going in circles. An airport veteran finally came along, and I followed him out. Otherwise. I could still be circling in the long-term parking lot. Portal to portal, from home to the office in Boulder, it was five-and-a-half hours. I can drive it on scenic U.S. 40 in eight hours, including lunch in Steamboat Springs. On 1-80. it's more like seven hours. It's a tough call. The best thing about getting home was finding the perfect Crenshaw melon. For me, nothing says summer like a good Crenshaw, swimming in lime-juice lime-juice with a little salt on it. Garrison Keillor rhapsodized rhap-sodized about sweet corn. That's good, but can't hold a candle to Crenshaw. Even air travel would be pleasant if they served up a good melon along the way. Tom Clyde is a former city attorney ami author of "More Dogs on Main Street. " He has been a columnist for The Park Record for more than a decade. WRITERS ON THE RANGE By John Clayton Where you live in a small town is someone's recollection When my friends Dave and Sue moved to town, people would ask where they lived and they would give a street address. That would get a blank stare. Then they'd say, 'It's Joan C. 's old house, ' and people would say, 'Oh, sure!'" I'm living on Nutting Street now," a friend told me last week. "You know where that is?" "Of course not!" I responded. "This is a small town! Nobody remembers the names of streets!" When I lived in the city, I knew the old saw that rural people give directions using landmarks that no longer exist ("Go past the old Jones place, then turn left where the big red barn used to be."). Little did I know that I would come to live that philosophy, or that the transformation would happen so quickly. Shortly after I arrived in my small town 13 years ago, I had the misfortune of.riding to a party in a car with an arguing couple (it turned out they were on the verge of breaking up). He, of course, kept driving dri-ving in circles without stopping to ask for directions. She, meanwhile, kept saying. It's near the hospital" and "Aren't we getting too far from the hospital?" and "Well, the last time I went it was easy because we stayed close to the hospital. " But what I found funny was that the argument didn't involve the street "" 1 address. Neither said. "You don't even remember what street it's on?" or "You didn't even bring the address?" In a small town, nobody uses street addresses. They just know what a house looks like, what it's near, or who used to live there. In this case, the sparring couple eventually even-tually stumbled across a familiar-looking house, and decided it had to be the party because they recognized recog-nized several cars parked in front of it. When my friends Dave and Sue moved to town, people would ask where they lived and they would give a street address. That would get a blank stare. Then they'd say, " It's Joan C.'s old house," and people peo-ple would say. "Oh, sure!" Joan, meanwhile, had downsized after her kids moved away. "You know Eleanor's Beauty Shop?" she asked me, in describing her new house. "Sure!" I said. The sign for the long-closed shop had been taken down three years previously. "Across the street," she said. "You bought Betty's house? Or the one next door?" She said it was Betty's house, and I congratulated her: "That's a nice place." But there was another person in the conversation who still didn't know the location we were talking about. Joan had to explain it another way. "You know the Mary Kay house?" she said. A few years previously it had been painted lavender. Rumors - untrue, I believe - circulated that the owner sold Mary Kay cosmetics, and the paint job was a giant advertisement. A tenant even posted a Mary Kay sticker on the door. "OK." "Two houses south," Joan said. The transaction was complete: both of us now knew exactly where Joan's new house was. And not once had we discussed dis-cussed a street name, cross street, or number. I usually tell people that I live "two blocks behind the movie theater." But sometimes I forget and say I live "on Haggin." The usual response: "Which one is that?" I then have to say, "The one by the creek." and they understand. Once, near the post office, a driver flagged me down and said in confusion. "We were supposed to go to a yellow house at the corner of Hauser and 13th." There were no yellow houses in sight. Puzzled, I asked. "Who are you looking for?" They were looking look-ing for my upstairs tenant. They were visiting vis-iting from out of town, so she'd had to give directions using street names. But she was so unfamiliar with the street names m (even though or- perhaps I should say '. because she was born here) that after six months ' in the apartment she still thought she lived on Hauser rather than Haggin. Part of the problem may be those street names, most of which commemorate railroad barons. Our town no longer even has a railroad. But I think even renaming the streets ("Creekside Avenue?") would fail. The problem is not so much the streets' names as the very idea of street names. In larger communities, grids of streets and collec-. tions of cul-de-sacs go on endlessly, with little but names to quickly distinguish them. But our town has big features (the creek, the mountains, the hospital) that provide a more natural guide than any street' sign- ; Too, in the small town, the people have uniquely -interwoven histories. We encounter our fellow resi-! dents in many different settings, with many different ; types of connections. It's not surprising that I would ; know all the parties involved on both sides of Joan's move. And so to phrase a house's location in terms t of those people is like a celebration of those inter-1 relationships. "So where is Nutting Street?" I asked the friend who'd moved there. "It's under the hill around the corner from Jeff and Betsy," he said, and I smiled. I now had a mental men-tal map of where he lived, and it was peopled by my friends. John Clayton is a contributor to Writers on the Range, a service of High Country News (hcn.org). He knows most everybody in Red Lodge, Mont. |
