I was standing in the coffee shop behind a middle aged woman in shorts, Teva sandals, and a fleece sweater. Her calves were killer, shaped and sculpted from years of hard efforts in one sport or another. The couple at the near table in the Columbia jackets were reading the local rag and having a hot tea, but looked like they had just come in from a run in the morning showers. A shaggy beard there, more fleece and down vests over in that corner, tan skin, little fat, no make up. Helmets on the hat rack. Organic coffee and a tip jar for the local Barrista who just may be a budding wanna be pro snowboarder waiting for the next flurries to begin.
Mountain towns. Gotta love 'em. Man I miss that vibe. It is the same in many towns I have traveled through. Any place that offers that combo of outdoor life style and elevation seems to draw in a similar class of folks. It is hard to tell the stratum of wealth as they all seem to dress the same. Patagonia clothing here is not just a statement of a Gold Card, it is a practical choice. Only when the parking lot shows a Range Rover or a busted up Subaru do the layers of money show.
In the coffee shop though, all caffeine seekers are equal. The parking lot snobbery can wait a bit. Fresh scones and rainforest approved beans first.
I could fit here quite nicely. Durango. Crested Butte. Tahoe. Idyllwild.
I could live the elevated life. I even liked the coffee.
"Please don't let me die."
1 year ago