Hipsters, Raccoon Tails, and Leather. Oh My!

The last few days have been exceptionally hectic. We explored Seattle, Portland, and we drove through the night to reach San Francisco. We were all very tired, so I chose to sleep rather than update immediately.

Yesterday was the Fourth of July. Independence Day. In honor of this holiday, I decided to write about how diverse our country is.

In the last few days particularly, we have seen some very interesting individuals.

Seattle was absolutely filled to the brim with “hipsters.” If you’re not familiar with this type of person, you can typically spot a hipster by looking for one of the following:

·         Plaid shirts

·         Mustaches/Awkward Facial Hair

·         Colored glasses

·         Fedoras (with or without feathers)

·         Vests

·         Boat shoes

·         Bicycle riding

·         Contempt for humanity

·         Skinny jeans

Hipsters also generally hate being called hipsters. They refuse to be labeled. However, this only furthers their association with the group.

As I was saying, Seattle is absolutely full of them. While walking across from the city’s library towards Pike Place, we happened to see a young woman with a streak of green in her hair. She had many tattoos, a cigarette dangling from her lips, and a bad attitude.

Also, a raccoon tail was attached to the back of her skirt.

I judge strangers pretty easily. I suppose it comes from the fact that I am just so much better than other people that I can’t help but notice their many faults. It’s both a gift and a curse. (Just kiddin').

It was amazing for me to see that so many people in Seattle didn’t stop to gawk at the weird girl with the tail hanging behind her seat. They just didn’t seem to see her at all.

To me, she was SCREAMING for attention; but to the rest of the population of Seattle, she was a perfectly employable, normal young woman.

Our schedule called for us to drive through Portland on our way to California. We went to a sadly closed Voodoo Doughnuts and crossed paths with a “Keep Portland Weird!” sign painted on an alley wall.

We walked to one of the best book stores I have ever had the pleasure of entering. (I bought a “choose your own adventure” Jane Austen novel!). On our way there, we saw an older gentleman wearing some tight leggings underneath a leather jacket and a multitude of leather belts and chains. His hair was long and he looked very determined. No one gave him a second glance—except for us. Were we judging him? Maybe a little bit. But I’d like to think it was just because we were a little jealous.

I would say that my friends and I are “weird.” We like to play board games instead of attending wild parties and we generally talk about books. Don’t get me wrong—we gossip like old women and watch enough T.V. to win a game show. But for some reason, we have always been out of the social spot light. Shouldn’t that make us less surprised by the differences in others?

We’ll work on keeping our minds open; but in the meantime we’re going to enjoy these fluffy hotel pillows and, eventually, the Golden Gate Bridge.  

You Are My Life Now

For those of you who don’t know, Stephenie Meyer’s book—Twilight—was published in 2005. In it, she chronicles the story of a young woman who feels alone in the world, but finally finds her place with a family of vampires. The girl’s vampire boyfriend, Edward Cullen, is the ideal for millions of teenaged (and some not-so-teenaged) fans. It’s really no wonder why tourism in Forks, Washington has risen so rapidly since Meyer decided that her characters lived in and around the rainy town.

Thankfully, many of the locals have embraced their young adult literary claim to fame. Shops offer Twilight related souvenirs and there are photo opportunities everywhere. Edward Cullen is worshipped as a god here as well.

There were two things about our visit to Forks today that really made me think:

Firstly, I have to say that I am amazed that a book has made such a deep impact on such a small community. There are so many people flocking to this modest town just to take a picture next to a population sign or a rusty Chevy (Side note: They have the actual car from the movie! It was pretty cool! Not that I’m a fan or anything. That would be ridiculous. I’m clearly not a pre-teen. We went to Forks to visit the Timber Museum, but it was closed today). The fact that this previously sleepy logging community has welcomed Twilight fans with open arms is really wonderful.

The second little bit of observation I had was a little bit more selfish. I was feeling a tad homesick today, as I am prone to do. Forks is so very small. I live in Channahon, a town that is about 8 square miles, and it sometimes feels like I see the same 10 people every time I go out. I can’t even imagine living somewhere that is only 1/3 the size. So it made me a little nostalgic.

As a small town, Forks lives up to the stereotypes that Channahon never has. You could tell that the locals really knew each other and that, although they may live somewhere famous, they didn’t act like celebrities. They were just normal people who happened to live in the rainiest place in the U.S.

For Meyer, and I think for many other American authors, small town America is what exemplifies our country for us; we see living in close-knit communities with a Main Street and a small house with a picket fence as the ideal. Forks is one of those communities, but it is hardly quaint or quiet. Instead, tourists flood their parking lots and demand travel mugs with Robert Pattinson’s face on them. If I were a deeper thinker, I might see this as a negative part of our capitalist society.

Good thing I’m pretty shallow, because I certainly couldn’t go without a post card from the Timber Museum.  

Also, I’ve never burned down the Silver Dollar Bar

(Please forgive this post. It’s late, I’m tired, and we drove for a long time today. Hopefully, this makes sense.)

We made it! After a long and terrifying drive, we have finally reached our hotel in Lacey, Washington.

As I mentioned yesterday, I was extremely afraid of the Rocky Mountains. Facing a new challenge was something I knew that I had to do, but that didn’t mean that I was excited about it. The first stretch of our mountain drive gave me a false sense of security. The mountains in Montana weren’t bad at all. There was a moment of terror at some point, but for the most part it was just a regular road.

Idaho was a different story. Even though our journey through this state was really short, the mountains were very difficult to drive through. They were almost everything that I thought driving the Rocky Mountains would be.

Even though it wasn’t without its trials, the Rocky Mountains were really beautiful. They were so huge and covered in trees. Rocks of all different colors, waterfalls visible from the road, and quaint towns nestled in valleys provided us with insight into why people bother to drive this risky road.

The fear and wonder that I felt in equal parts made me start to think about the permanency of things. Those mountains have been around for a very long time. The trees that grow on their hills have had decades to get as tall as they are. In comparison, I’m practically an infant.

We stopped for lunch at this fabulously tacky restaurant that had 50,000 Silver Dollars built into its bar. Part of the “fun facts” paper that the restaurant had on every table proclaimed that:  “The Silver Dollar Bar has never burned down. Ever.”

I guess the point of all of this is that your legacy is what you make it. The mountains will be there longer than any of us. No one can change that. The Silver Dollar Bar hasn’t ever burned down, and that’s something it can be proud of. Now I get to say that I have crossed the Rocky Mountains and lived to tell the tale.