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Show Moab Happenings April 1998 iA J Tlw following story is true. I promise that everything I mention in this essay has happened at some time in the last four years. I didnt make any of it up for the sake of literary convenience; I didn have to. And I could have gone on and on and on.... but I'm trying to be nice. V jl Locals Go loco A View from : the Other Side By Janet Lowe Theres been a lot of hullabaloo in the past several months about how disagreeable and cranky Moab-bite- s are. Seems were biting the tourists a little too hard. Were moody. Were on the snippy side. Letters were written, names were called and apparently promises made never to return to Moab to drop shiny silver dollars into our coffers. This prompted the return of the SuperHost program to Moab, a workshop designed to leach us how to behave properly toward our guests. We are taught alternative phraseology when faced with questions like Whats the weather going to be next week? Apparently, "I dont know, do I look like the weatherman ? is not the appropriate response. Likewise raucous laughter and knee slapping is apparently the wrong response to "Wheres the nearest sushi bar? When were asked where one can get fresh seafood, Im told "Florida is the wrong answer. Now' understand, I would never condone rudeness. When I experience it from others quite frequently in retail work, as a matter of fact it feels like a slap in the face. I think about it for the rest of the day and feel demoralized about the human race. I ask myself what did I do to deserve that? The answer is, of course, nothing, but it still feels like Ive been punched in the stomach. Apparently the nation is suffering an epidemic of bad behavior. Almost every national magazine and newspaper has run a story on rudeness sometime during the past year. We shout at each other from cars, point guns at one another, slam doors in the faces of old ladies, or simply dont speak in the old fashioned neighborly way. I cant attempt to explain the behavior of the whole dang country, but Ill take a stab at why tourists may encounter something other than pearly whites from everyone they meet in Moab. So there you are tucked away in your quiet Anywhere, U.S.A., suburban neighborhood. The kids are out playing ball in the street, pops on the porch reading, moms at the grocery store chatting with the checkers, when, out of nowhere, 10,000 people descend on the neighborhood. SevRVs and some of eral thousand of them are driving them park in front of the house where pop sits, blocking his view of the sunset. There they remain, deciding its time for a picnic and later, a walk to town, leaving their mobile home in the street where the kids were playing ball. Another several thousand of the ten thousand drive those trendy SUVs that cost more than pops house, andthey attach a great deal of hubris to their ownership. Another few thousand drive the aforementioned vehicles with enough bicycles strapped to the top that mom and pop could sell them and fund their kids college education. Top it off with the fact that these bike toting folks wear lycra clothing in colors that startle the cat and which, quite alarmingly, acquaint the kids and grandma with certain parts of their anatomy which are better left private. Which brings to mind yet another sort that shows up in the neighborhood: barely clothed hippies with pierced navels, nipples, eyebrows, tongues, lips, and noses blonde dreadlocks that somehow defy wearing their obvious upper middle class upbringing, obvious because you see them jump out of a $45,000 Land Rover, which, I trust, reeks of patchouli oil as much as the store does when they leave. And then there are the middle-agepotbellied, sweaty men in cutaway tank tops. No narrative 42-fo- ot necessary aside from ugh. Mom decides to take the scenic road home from the market, a narrow road that runs along the river. She rounds a bend to run upon cyclists stretched five abreast across the a bend to run upon cyclists stretched five abreast across the road as if its marked bikeway not highway. Mom slams on the brakes, swerves, takes a rock in the windshield while all the groceries fall over in the back breaking the eggs, crushing the bread and pulverizing the potato chips. Another mile down the road a is belaying his buddy by lying down with his head in the highway. Mom cant swerve because theres a truck the size of Nebraska coming in the other lane. She misses the climbers head by four inches, but suffers heart palpitations and shortness of breath. Yeah, shes a little on edge when she gels home to find a drive vehicle blocking the driveway. What shed like to do is slash the tires; what she does is ask them to move. Theyre indignant and think the locals are a cranky bunch. rock-climb- Moms sister. Sis, works a few blocks away downtown. She calls and says, Theyre back! She knows they're back because in her shop alone shes been asked if the dog can come in, and oh, by the way, do you have some water and a bowl he can drink out of while I use your bathroom? In the meantime their kids have pulled down the displays, crawled on and the table off and jumped spilled their slurpee on the white Another couple has brought carry out food into the store and had a picnic in the aisles between the merchandise. The next couple at the cash register and the ones after that and after that as well ask if they can get a discount for being from Connecticut or because they came to the store last year. By now Sis is thinking about retirinc from retail sales so when someone asks her where the Internet Cafe is she matter of factly tells them: "Seattle. If you leave now, you can be there by tomorrow night. To end her day she walks out the front door to lock up in time to sec a college kid drop his pants while his just buddy drives the length of Main Street, and just in case anyone missed it they turn around and go back down the block, but on this run the kid is displaying the other wormy side of his anatomy. Yeah, the townsfolk get a little after awhile. After sunset, bicyclists peddle down the street shouting at each other over their shoulders seemingly unaware that people live in the houses they pass and may be sleeping or reading or having dinner. Its as if the local residents dont exist, as if the streets, red rock, mountains and fiver are there purely for their personal amusement. If local folks do come into the visitors awareness it is because they, too, are here to ensure that the vacationers have a good time. pleasure to serve. There are exceptions on both sides of the counter and since Moabites have already had their SuperHost course, I offer a condensed course in SuperGuest training. We are acutely aware that our economic viability rests in your pocket along with all the lint and fuzz, but please dont rub it in. We work really, really hard to make Moab a place you want to visit and most of us are little people barely eking out a living. Understand that on any given weekend our town, a formerly sleepy little town of 6,000 or so, explodes with people, sometimes as many as 15,000 more than live here. Over the course of a year a million people visit what is our neighborhood, the place we garden, the place our kids go to school and play. Act as if you are aware that you are recreating in our back yard. Treat it the way youd like your back yard treated, that is, if you'd let us play there. In fact, treat us the way youd like to be treated. (Hmmm ... that sounds awfully familiar.) Do not ask us if its worth it to drive into Arches or Canyonlands National Park. Its a dumb question. Keep your clothes on. Do not stop in the middle of the highway to decide which motel to stay in or to take pictures, or for any other reason for that matter. Its a dangerous thing. Ride your bicycles single file, in the bike lane, period. And stop hollering at each other; youre right outside my bedroom window. Do not stand and wait while your dog poops on the sidewalk and then walk away leaving the warm pile for everyone else to step in. Make it a point not to end up in the Police Blotter. That means keep your family fights at home and report your lost wallet in the same state where you lost it, and dont whine when somebody steals your camera out of your unlocked convertible. Do not ask us to baby-si- t your kids, dogs, cats or bicycles while you shop. Think. ..even though I know its hard on vacation. Be nice. Say please. Say thank you. Smile. You're on vacation! short-temper- have learned more about human behavior than I ever thought possible simply by working retail sales in Moab, Utah. It has made me a better person. It has made me a humble person. When I travel to other communities or countries, I stay acutely aware that I am recreating in someone elses backyard. I do my best to become invisible. I leave big tips. I dont ask dumb questions or questions that I already know the answer to. I try not to pull stupid tourist tricks like lock myself out of my motel room or stand in the middle of the road to take pictures. That said, lean say that I sometimes have trouble with invisibility. Like the time I was leaving Denali National Park after having been there for four days with Mt. McKinley socked in by clouds. On the highway to Anchorage I saw the peak break out through the clouds in my rearview mirror and stopped the car dead in the middle of the road to take pictures. Just two years ago, after years of practice at being a tourist, (Is that an oxymoron?) I locked my keys in truck at Yellowstone National Park. It took over an my hour to get them out. More humble pie. Open 10am-5p- m Monday-Saturda- y Offering a Huge Selection of Native &. 4 Non-nativ- 4 e, Drought Tolerant Plants 4 I For the most part visitors to Moab will encounter helpriver ful, friendly, clerks, guides, bike guides, et al. And for the most part, we encounter visitors who are friendly, patient, courteous, and a eager-to-plea- wait-peopl- e, Professional Consultation & Site Design Let Janis & Joey help you plan a garden that blooms beautifully all summer! Buffalo Grass Plugs $25.00flat of 50 Order Now! Janis Adkins 2971 S. Hwy 191 (Next to the Branding Iron) EO. Box 1419 Moab UT 84532 Phone & Fax: 435-259-45- |