The whole family went down to Moab, Utah this weekend. We went on a great hike, 6 miles and 8 natural arches. Pictures in the family section.
That is the good news, now for the rant:
It was my first time in Moab, and I was expecting the town to be filled with a bunch of granola bars and hippies, and boy were my assumptions right. Even after only 10 feet into town we were dodging bicycles and skateboarders.
We went out to dinner at a little hamburger shop on the east side of town. Upon our arrival, I had to find parking in between all the Subaru Foresters and Subaru Outbacks. Each of course had a bike rack with two $5000 bikes on them. We ordered food at the outside counter, and sat down to eat. That’s when I started noticing the signs:
* Please Do Not Bring Your Bike Into The Restaurant.
* Please Do Not Hang Off The Tree.
* Please Don’t Through Your Granola Bar Wrapper On The Ground.
I laughed at the silly signs for a minute. Then I witnessed the one of the customers take the entire ketchup supply from the counter and take it back to their table, leaving none for all the entire restaurant. I thought ‘wow’ this place is weird, it must be full of ‘Forest Floor Teenagers’ (In adult bodies).
Then within a few minutes I got all the crazy looks from people, and the ‘kids’ comments and the ‘where is his Subaru’ and ‘I bet he is riding a Huffy’ looks and comments. It must of been the fuel efficient Toyota that I was driving, or the fact that I was wearing socks and shoes and not sandals with dirty feet.
Through out the dinner I could not help but notice every car driving by was caked with mud, had a bike rack and had 10k worth of bike on top. It was a social status I am sure, and what a vain life to live. I wondered if people are judged in Moab solely on bikes, or if it is the combination of mud, Subaru, weighing less than 100lbs, being jobless, dirty feet, living at brother-in-law, hemp bracelet, granola stash, weed stash, $500 sunglasses and flip flop cleanliness. What ever it is, I don’t want to be any part of it.
Back at the hotel, and everywhere else, more signs:
* Please Don’t Bring Your Bike In Here.
As I smiled an looked up, I notice a person carrying his bike right past the sign into the Hotel. Hotel carpet and walls had bike tracks all over, and there were bike parts all over the parking lot. It was unbelievable.
What a crappy town, I hope to never return. Everyone we saw and met was a yuppie, selfish bugger. I just hope you all realize soon that there are other people in the world. People don’t want you trashing their restaurants and hotels. We all don’t want your stupid bikes. The job collecting toll for the forest service will never open up, and your brother is tired of paying your half of the rent and utilities.