Sucky Charms

The day I moved out of Vail to head back to Ohio, I was, as usual, running late. Oscar was getting into the Denver airport at 2:00 to help me drive back and my plan to leave Vail at noon fell through when I decided that I needed one last slice of high altitude pizza. I ended up not starting out on the 2 hour drive to the Denver airport until 1:30 and was in such a rush that I forgot my drivers license in the washing machine (my usual storage place for important documents). I sped down Matterhorn Rd., leaving my neighborhood fondly known as “Matterhood”, past the Gore Creek, onto route 70, and drove away with the mountains at my back. After I had passed all those familiar exits and reached cruising speed on my way over Vail pass, I finally relaxed from my hectic exit. I took a deep breath, took one last look at the mountain range through my rearview mirror, and it finally hit me—I had escaped Vail. What in May seemed like an impossible summer at a blasé company in a hippy town where I would be expected to camp turned out to be a fairly fun summer with some crazy kids at a hard-working company where I would learn a lot. Nonetheless, I was thrilled to be going home. I yelled out a “woohoo!”, blew those mountains a Hollywood kiss, and sped off for Denver. About 5 seconds after this I hit a rain pocket, slowing all driving to a near crawl. The “goodbye, mountains” gesture would have been a lot cooler if I could have actually sped away.

There are a few things about Vail that I get a bit nostalgic about, because I know I will not experience them anywhere else. The intern house, for instance, is probably/hopefully the closest I will come to living as an actual peasant. I suppose the problems with the house were part of its charm. It was kind of fun, grabbing a piece of foil from the kitchen to stick in the door of the dryer so it would work and then crossing your fingers that your clothes would actually come out dry. Since the dishwasher flooded the kitchen with soapy water every time it ran, it also served as a convenient floor cleaner. This feature especially came in handy during parties. During the last intern house party, someone spilled a beer on the kitchen floor. Instead of grabbing some paper towels, my roommate Chris pointed at the dishwasher and shouted “Run that thang!” I wasn’t really in the mood for a foam party, so I opted for the paper towels, but the running the dishwasher to clean up a spill was definitely a viable option. The only problem is that the water made the floor expand, causing the tiles to crack and pop out of the floor. Instead of picking them up and throwing them away, we all found it better to play a never-ending game of soccer with these tile pieces. The bugs in the house also gave it some character. It made the house feel like a cabin or a garbage can. Tiny flies gathered all over the kitchen and then would stick to the wall to die. There was a whole tiny fly graveyard on the wall above the sink. I’m sure they chose that spot as their final resting place because of the beautiful views of piles of unwashed dishes coated in various Mexican dishes from weeks before.

The house could have been a lot worse, and I guess it was. Soon after I arrived there, the oven door, which had been shattered, was replaced. The heat, which never shut off, was also fixed during my stay. And right before I got there, the crazy neighbors were evicted for stabbing each other with a lamp. I really should be thankful for the pit I lived in. Considering the location, its probably the world’s most expensive junk heap.

Another thing that Vail has that is really lacking in the rest of the country is hitchhikers. I didn’t realize that people still did this, especially with all the urban legends you hear warning you against it. But Vail is a town stuck in the past—they love the old West, Native Americans, and hitchhikers. I saw about 2-3 hitchhikers a week. Vail has a pretty good free public transportation system, so I really don’t know why hitching is so popular, but I guess it is a bit more intimately social than taking the bus. I really only became aware of the popularity of hitchhiking when a coworker, Drew, brought it to my attention. One of the many perks of living in the intern house not knowing who will be sleeping on your couch that morning. As I groggily trudged downstairs to grab a breakfast shake before heading to work at 7 am, I noticed that Drew was just waking up from his night on the thrift-store couch. I offered him a ride to his house, but he refused, saying he would just hitchhike back. I thought he was kidding, but he assured me that it was a reasonable transportation option and that people around Vail were nice enough to pick people up. Sure enough, he got a ride back, and I started noticing hitchhikers everywhere. There was a teenager with a skateboard begging a ride at the front of my neighborhood. A businessman in a suit stood at the entrance of the highway with his thumb out. I never picked up one of these strangers. Vail residents might be nice enough to give these people a ride to the next town, but I’m from Ohio and I know that any one of them could be a serial killer.

Vail is a great place to go if you aspire to be an alcoholic or if you are looking to live in a community for alcoholism is accepted. As you drive into Vail on the highway, you start to notice bright orange signs advising against drinking and driving. When you are officially in Vail, these signs occur about every mile. I don’t doubt that Vail residents play a drinking game while driving on the highway where each person in the car takes a shot upon spotting one of these anti-drinking signs. Though there is a lot to do in Vail during the day if you’re into extreme physical exertion, there’s not much to do at night. There is one movie theater about 15 miles away and no bowling alley, but there are plenty of bars. Each night has a different “it bar” to go to. For example, Sunday and Monday are devoted to open-mic nights, White Trash Wednesday is a local fave at Sandbar, and on Fridays, you can go to the top of the mountain, where all there is a trampoline and drink specials. Vail obviously has a drinking problem. The rest of Colorado needs to stage an intervention. Maybe the alcoholism is part of its charm. If everyone was sober, maybe they would leave Vail, too.

Despite all the “charms” of Vail and the my bleak outlook at the beginning of the summer, my internship experience turned out to be pretty good. I absolutely loved the work and know now more than ever that television production is my career of choice. I also know more than ever that I never want to live in a mountain town. It’s very pretty and a great place to vacation, but I think the lack of oxygen makes people a little crazy. Plus, I’m not really outdoorsy beyond eating al fresco. I did learn a lot, met some great people, and came away with some good stories. So goodbye, Vail! Consider this my second attempt at a dramatic speeding off.