A couple of
posts back, I mentioned that I was in the final stages of an annual trip with a
pair of good friends. Each year, we pick
a different part of the country in which to spend a week moseying about,
enjoying the minor league baseball and cuisine of the region. This year, we visited New Mexico.
Being a
moderately observant traveler who views the world through urbanist spectacles,
I see stuff to share with my readers.
Today will be the first of several posts in which New Mexico and the tip
of west Texas offer urbanist insights.
Scheduling a
trip around the vagaries of minor league baseball schedules is an annual
challenge, one that I’ve described as an adult jigsaw puzzle for
travelers. This year, the schedules
demanded that we begin and end our trip in El Paso, a few miles south of the
New Mexico border. But that was great because
El Paso has a fine new ballpark, well-located in the urban grid and with grand
views of the scenic beauty of El Paso.
Given our
daily routine of travel, noshing, and evening baseball, we often found
ourselves looking for a final snack after a ballgame. On this trip, we twice cruised the streets of
El Paso after ballgames, looking for late evening nourishment.
In the course
of those searches, we found that El Paso has a surprising level of late evening
activity. And I don’t mean drinking and
carousing, but families out and about, enjoying the relative cool of the
evening hours.
Some may
hypothesize that the Hispanic segment of the population, building on a
tradition of evening promenades, is responsible for the evening socializing. But my observation was that the people on the
streets as the midnight hour approached generally matched the demographic mix
of El Paso. From my few data points, I’d
argue that the primary cause of the eventide activity is the desire to get outside
after a day of remaining indoors to avoid the heat.
Whatever the
cause, one evening we ate pancakes at an 24-hour IHOP which had a nearly full
parking lot when we arrived at 11:00pm and in which a large meeting, perhaps a
Bible study group, was still going strong when we departed near midnight.
Another
evening, we had appetizers at a Village Inn which had a good crowd of families,
including babies sleeping in carriers, despite the late hour. As we left, the parking lot had amorous
couples embracing in goodbyes, requiring the use of the back-up camera on our
rental vehicle to ensure that we didn’t bump any of the oblivious lovers. The restaurant was going to remain open until
3am.
Some may
wonder if IHOP and Village Inn were really the preferred destinations of three middle-aged
guys looking for evening refreshments.
And the answer is no. One evening
in particular, we went looking for a Chili’s only to find that it had closed at
11pm.
In a town
with a surprising number of people out and about in the late evening hours
looking for quiet refreshment, a restaurant well-suited to meet that need had
inexplicably closed early. The three of
us scratched our heads and decided that a blanket corporate policy was the only
possible explanation.
And that’s the
point I want to make in this post.
Cities develop unique characteristics, whether the late night ramblings
of El Paso, the fine dining of Napa, or the neighborhood meeting places of
Petaluma.
And while we
generally cherish those characteristics, with city halls often touting them as
a reason for businesses to relocate to their communities, most cities simultaneously
try to bury those characteristics under mounds of paper and plastic.
The paper is
the zoning codes that, despite the best efforts of over-worked city staffs,
often mimic the zoning codes of other communities, draining away local
uniqueness.
And the
plastic is the national chains that bring the same merchandise and menu
selections to every town, overwhelming local character.
It’s not
easy maintaining local character against those twin forces, but it is nonetheless
a goal of urbanism, even if only to convince Chili’s to remain open until 2am
to accommodate local social patterns. Defining
and maintaining local character is a topic to which I’ll return.
Before closing,
I should return to a point on which some may be puzzling, which is why an
urbanist is writing about national chains like IHOP, Village Inn, and Chili’s
when I should be celebrating single-location establishments like Ray’s in Petaluma. The answer is that late evenings in an
unfamiliar big city is perhaps the one time when the safety of a national chain
is a reasonable choice.
But at all other
times during the trip, we aggressively sought out unique restaurants and
pubs. As a result, we had some marvelous
meals. I’ll summarize a few highlights
in an upcoming post.
As always,
your questions or comments will be appreciated.
Please comment below or email me.
And thanks for reading. - Dave Alden (davealden53@comcast.net)
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