Thursday, September 06, 2007
(11:15 AM) | Stephen:
Confessions
I haven't been honest with people. In fact, I'm a serial liar to friends, to family, to complete strangers. But something has just happened that is so heinous I can no longer keep up the charade. So here, finally, is Truth that I have been unwilling to voice for almost two decades.
To begin, I need to reference a change that's happening in New Mexico. Even my sparsely-populated home state has reached the area code breaking point and must add a new area code. For my entire life New Mexico's area code has been 505. In fact, for my entire freaking life my "home" phone number has been exactly the same. That phone number is ingrained into my mind so firmly that I know I could dial it from within a coma.
But no more. Now my dad, brother and mom will all have different phone numbers. Their cell phones, their home phones will all be different. They will now start with 575.
And here's where the confession comes in. See, for years I've had to deal with the fact that the only places that anyone visits in New Mexico are Albuquerque, Santa Fe and Taos. That's it. If I meet someone who has been to New Mexico, it's either because they've driven through it on I-40 or they traveled there to visit the the well-known trinity mentioned above.
And like the dutiful son of New Mexico that I am, I always talk about how great those towns are. I talk about Albuquerque's beauty, the cinnamon rolls at the Frontier Restaurant across from UNM, about Santa Fe's grace and history. I've been to all the landmarks and done all the touristy things, and people are usually quite intrigued that a cousin of mine was married at the Loretto Chapel.
The truth is, I hate Albuquerque. I can't stand Santa Fe. And I'd rather not ever talk about Taos. The only place in New Mexico where one can find people that are more insufferable, more arrogant and of generally less worth than those northern New Mexico enclaves of idiocy is Clovis, and everyone knows that Clovis is pretty much Texas anyway.
But we can't say that about big-time Albuquerque, oh-so-hip Taos and we-run-your-lives Santa Freaking Fe. They're right in the middle of the state. We can't blame their nonsense on proximity to Texas.
Everything in New Mexico is twisted to benefit them. Are the poor widdle football teams in Albuquerque getting their butts whipped by Las Cruces, Roswell and Alamogordo? Well, let's just redraw the sports districts! And we certainly can't have a new area code inconveniencing the only freaking part of New Mexico that anyone has ever heard of.
I don't want to hear anything more about northern New Mexico. Taking a trip to northern New Mexico is like staying at a Sandals resort and claiming that you've "been to Jamaica." Ha.
Bunch of no-good jerks. At least I can be honest about it now.
To begin, I need to reference a change that's happening in New Mexico. Even my sparsely-populated home state has reached the area code breaking point and must add a new area code. For my entire life New Mexico's area code has been 505. In fact, for my entire freaking life my "home" phone number has been exactly the same. That phone number is ingrained into my mind so firmly that I know I could dial it from within a coma.
But no more. Now my dad, brother and mom will all have different phone numbers. Their cell phones, their home phones will all be different. They will now start with 575.
And here's where the confession comes in. See, for years I've had to deal with the fact that the only places that anyone visits in New Mexico are Albuquerque, Santa Fe and Taos. That's it. If I meet someone who has been to New Mexico, it's either because they've driven through it on I-40 or they traveled there to visit the the well-known trinity mentioned above.
And like the dutiful son of New Mexico that I am, I always talk about how great those towns are. I talk about Albuquerque's beauty, the cinnamon rolls at the Frontier Restaurant across from UNM, about Santa Fe's grace and history. I've been to all the landmarks and done all the touristy things, and people are usually quite intrigued that a cousin of mine was married at the Loretto Chapel.
The truth is, I hate Albuquerque. I can't stand Santa Fe. And I'd rather not ever talk about Taos. The only place in New Mexico where one can find people that are more insufferable, more arrogant and of generally less worth than those northern New Mexico enclaves of idiocy is Clovis, and everyone knows that Clovis is pretty much Texas anyway.
But we can't say that about big-time Albuquerque, oh-so-hip Taos and we-run-your-lives Santa Freaking Fe. They're right in the middle of the state. We can't blame their nonsense on proximity to Texas.
Everything in New Mexico is twisted to benefit them. Are the poor widdle football teams in Albuquerque getting their butts whipped by Las Cruces, Roswell and Alamogordo? Well, let's just redraw the sports districts! And we certainly can't have a new area code inconveniencing the only freaking part of New Mexico that anyone has ever heard of.
I don't want to hear anything more about northern New Mexico. Taking a trip to northern New Mexico is like staying at a Sandals resort and claiming that you've "been to Jamaica." Ha.
Bunch of no-good jerks. At least I can be honest about it now.
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