Truth or Consequences

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I just got out of the hot tub. And I’m writing from my room where someone painted clouds on the light blue walls, the carpet is a southwest geometrical print and outside my window are displayed skulls, feathers, handpainted signs on slabwood and a prayer flag quoting the Bhagavad-Gita. There’s poetry stapled to the walls and tourists have written messages on rocks and glued them to the windowsill. Not bad for day one of what is to be a five week retreat in the Arizona desert.

Okay, granted, I’m not actually IN Arizona, but I’m getting closer. I logged 550 miles today from Denver and I write tonight from Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. How could I drive past that? Especially when I discovered the Riverbend Hot Springs Budget Resort and Spa and lodged myself in the Pension, the cheapest room, where for $50 I get a shared kitchen and bathroom. And a dip in the tub overlooking the Rio Grande, under a sky full of stars. And let’s not forget…free wireless.

It was a great drive. Down the flat plain of the Rocky Mountain Front Range which, upon hitting New Mexico, promptly became snow-covered tablelands and sharp-edged mesas. This is definitely the Southwest, where the roads are straight and the speed limit is 75, (though no one goes that slow.) On the way through Las Vegas, yes, New Mexico, I looked up my first ex-wife Liz. We text messaged as I passed by Santa Fe and got stuck in traffic in Albuquerque where I caught her up on the last 10 years of my life, trading the news business in Alaska for affecting change in a different way. Before we quit messaging, the last missive I got was “Teaching yoga to rich people makes a difference?” The subtext to that, I think, is she feels it unforgivable that America has blown a half trillion dollars on Iraq when in her town, kids go hungry.

That stuck in my mind as I got gas at the Taco Bell and Quick Mart. It being Friday night, I asked the cashier what there might be to do in T or C. She gave me that ‘not much’ look, but a nearly toothless woman named Catherine playing pull-tabs set me straight. There are two bars here, one of which I shouldn’t bother. When she’d arrived in town, fresh from Berkeley CA, she stopped in for a beer at quittin’ time. Soon after, the bartender shouted ‘Last call.’ It was 7pm.

This quiet town is about to change, though. “I’m in real estate,” Catherine volunteered, pulling a card from her sheepskin and leather jacket. “Good time to buy,” she said Wal-Mart is coming in. And NASCAR is going to open a track don’t ask me why. And there is the Spaceport.”

Spaceport?

Brian, the night clerk at the Budget spa filled me in: Money from Vegas, (Nevada this time,) is coming this way. Apparently, Sir Richard Branson, the Chairman of Virgin Airlines and such, plans to spend millions creating a tourist attraction aimed at taking people into orbit, via another company, no lie, Virgin Galactic. Five thousand people a year, starting in 2010. The decision is already having consequences, Brian said. Local residents are being asked to endorse a higher sales tax to help pay, perhaps counter-intuitively, for the all the new prosperity this new investment will bring. Governor Bill Richardson, the presidential candidate, has signed on. Concrete is apparently already being poured.

I’m not sure what that means for old T or C, but this town was built on change. When cowboys killed off the Indians for whom this was sacred ground, they built a house and called it Geronimo Springs. Then residents gave it the current name in 1950, on a dare from the radio program of the same name. A poster on the wall mentions a fax, some years ago, from the Governor’s office, requesting confirmation that the town was being renamed Wheel of Fortune. Apparently once they got a reputation for doing what it takes to make a name, local residents are seen as Chamber of Commerce sell outs. But heck, why not dream big?

Till next time - John

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