My cousin and her family had moved to a small unincorporated town (i.e., so
small, it doesn't need governing people to govern them) right outside of
Aspen a number of years ago. I didn't understand why knowing how little
mortgage prices differ between a destination place and any place near a
destination place. But like the pine that rooted itself besides a grove of
aspens, it only took my friend and I a few hours in Aspen to realize why she
moved where she did...
"One of these things is not like the others,
One of these things just doesn't belong..."
"I'm sure a brown dude has a small shop around here
somewhere...it'll have everything!" My friend and I were looking for that
shop that logically, should be two or three different shops, but to a
parched and worn tourist it's the shop because it has everything they
need: tchotchkes, water, aspirin, sugar. We had already circled downtown
Aspen, figuring the shop must be off the main streets. Not finding one, we
did what every dogged tourist does: crisscross city blocks. (Aspen's
downtown is barely a 5 x 5 grid.) In between animal sightings and handling
rare gemstones, I stopped and looked around:
We [i.e., my brown peeps] set up shop everywhere... Why aren't we
here??
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Was it because Aspen has a clean skate park (?), a jail with flowers (!), and a charming Dior (??) Was I underestimating the wealth that vacations and resides in Aspen? YES. It only took a few Zillow zooms to learn how the median list price for a home (including single family, condo, and townhomes) in Aspen was around $2.5 million, whereas a home in my cousin's unincorporated town was going for $800,000 -- a difference of $1.7 million. To clarify that figure: $1,700,000.
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You're probably thinking (as I was), "Pfft. New York City is probably
higher." Nay dear friend, nay. The median listing price in NYC when I was in
Aspen was $830,000. Rich people don't vacation and live in Aspen,
wealthy people do. My cousin further backed my theory: "Surgeons and
anesthesiologists are middle class here... Yeah, it's crazy."
All this data explained what happened to my friend and I during our Aspen
walkabouts: we never found souvenirs (forget that souvenir shop owned by a
brown person), we never found a cheap bottle of cold water (don't
underestimate the heat at high altitude; hell is as high as heaven!), but we
found a cool watering hole that served chilled fruit-infused water to their
"guests" guests in these cute acrylic shot glasses --
souvenirs?? Most definitely.
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As our ranger continued on about aspens, Romeo and Juliet read the do not pass
sign and walked right through the meadow for a photo shoot. I get the need to
take pictures, I can be a picture whore when the lighting is just right. But
passing a park ranger as you pass a do not pass sign for your perfect shot??
How big is your ego? How big is your ego at the foot of a mountain?
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* And with that, my fate as the old lady who chats it up the gift shop
employees until the next guided tour was sealed. How else would I have come
to learn of this very important pontification. The bronze plaques at the base of our hike didn't
mention this either.
Length of Stay
A week; frequent visits from the unincorporated town
Docking Index
One anchor. Even if I was wealthy in another life I wouldn't live here. The place gave me some serious "The Ice Storm" + "Eyes Wide Shut" + "Twin Peaks" vibes. And again, my instincts were confirmed. My cousin's husband told me how people in the medical field can earn a side hustle by shuttling IV fluids to parties. "Wait. What??" "I know..." "Like... to flush out alcohol??" "Yeah, alcohol, drugs, you name it. Just so they can do it all over again."
