New York Times tackles Denver’s hard-hitting issues
Over on Jesse Thorn’s Twitter feed, he discovered that the New York Times has finally stepped up to tackle “the great challenge of our time: packing for weekends at your second home.”
Ron King and wife, of Denver, prepare their black Lab Theodore to be properly packed in the couple's hatbox for the trip to their second home in Winter Park
I clicked on the link, and wouldn’t you know! The first wealthy dually landed white male to suffer from this horrific problem was a Denverite by the name of Ron King, who has a house in Winter Park.
“No matter where I am, I find myself needing something that I meant to pack but left in the other place.” The increasingly long list includes skis, a season ski pass (forgetting this means forking over an additional $80 for a day pass), sheets, pillowcases, nails, a hammer and on one occasion Mr. King’s cellphone. “It was a catastrophe,” he said. “I missed calls and appointments.”
A catastrophe, I say! I’m not going to play the class warrior card here because, let’s face it, if I had the clams, I’d have at least four vacation homes. But still, does the readership of the Times actually mimic its own stereotype that closely? With the housing market still wretching and apartment rents rising steadily to house displaced foreclosure victims, are there still enough two-property owners to appreciate this article?
One more thing: What’s the point of having a “vacation” home if you are going to trudge along all your kids’ schoolwork and your Blackberry to stay completely wired? Vacations are supposed to be breaks from your day-to-day drudgery, not simply a change in the scenery beyond the frame of your laptop monitor.
It took extraordinary willpower not to check my work e-mail or call to check my voicemail messages while Sarah and I were on our Fantasy Struggling Rock Band West Coast Tour. But after a few days of shoddy hotel internet access, I was able to shake my addiction to communication and actually enjoy myself.
Except for Twitter, which tormented me to come up with witty quips at all times. I gave up around San Francisco.
But I can’t believe how much more relaxed I felt after 48 straight hours of not looking at a computer screen. I was a surfboard rental away from having a mental break with my old life and quitting my job and selling t-shirts to tourists from a van in Santa Cruz.