What an amazing transformation! Moab – from bucolic little town, known for its peaches and apricots (long gone) to a set piece for the next Mad Max “Road Warrior” movie.
Take a bike ride down Kane Creek. It looks like an upper-class refugee camp, but those happy campers at least have the advantage of one porta-potty per thousand people. Think free fertilizer, plus, the catfish love it. Did the county or city issue a permit for this temporary slum? Probably not. Rules and regulations are for losers, right? Moabyloians for Trump!
Down on the west side, we used to be proud of our proximity to the sewage treatment plant and ravaged wetlands preserve. It was dark and quiet. Now, instead of listening for critters or bumps in the night, we have the virtually continual thrum of purposeless fossil fuel engines to lull us to sleep. The nonstop din is strangely comforting; now, it’s only a pause in the rev and roar that proves disconcerting.
Nice planning, civic leaders! Do you think you can ever put this Pandora back in the box? The Star Chamber of Commerce must be absolutely giddy. But then, we’re talking about the same set of people, are we not?
For you folks who came to Moab for what it used to be – get over it – the path of least resistance is to just let this tsunami roll over you. Maybe you can figure out some new way to separate the tourons from their cash. Otherwise, all that is left to do is bend over, grab your ankles, take a really deep breath, hope that your neighborhood is not the next sacrifice zone, and keep smiling.