I hate you Tweetsie

Far away, in the mountains of North Carolina, high on a hill not far from the Blue Ridge Parkway, there exists a community of people that come together in the spirit of a desperate need for money. These poeple particapate in an ancient, it would seem almost scared, ritual of ripping people's money off. These people would be the owner's of  "Tweetsie Railroad".

Don't get me wrong, I went as a child and absolutly LOVED it. I got to see "Indians" (I know it's Native American's if you don't know a persons tribe, or was the last time I checked) and Cowboys duke it out on a coal powered train and a ply wood fort,  four sad, polyester clad saloon girls perform in the "dance hall", and I rode a farris wheel that looked like it was going to throw you off the side of the mountain. And you know what? Between the ages of 5 and 10 it was AWESOME! Somewhere after 12 I started noticing certain.............historical inaccuracies.

 I'm not a history buff or particulary studious, but I did read enough "Dear America's" as a child to know that not everyone in the wildwest was between the ages of 19 and 22 (all workers at tweetsi are from the local college) and had nose and eyebrow piercings, that most "General Stores" probably didn't specialize in goverment cheese $8 nachos (they were $8 in the mid 90's, probabaly a couple hundred now), and small teddy bears beating plastic tribal drums. Along the way, other people seem to have also noticed, and Tweetsie has since been sued out of existance but still somehow runs May thru October.

As an adult I now live less than a 1/4 mile from Tweetsie. Which does nothing to hide it's multitude of flaws.

And since I'm so close now and it runs May thru October I hear the train whistle May thru October (25 runs a day starting at the 7:30 train inspection) and I play Russian Roulette with snotty suburnaites who fly around blind curves (doing 20 miles an hour over the speed limit, down a mountain ,that they ARE NOT FAMILIAR WITH) so that when I pull out of my drive way I have a 50/50 shot at dying (I either will or I won't die). (My favorite part is when they get mad at me and ride my butt  whike flipping me off for half a mile, screaming obscinities with young kids in the car, because they had to slow down for half a second. Nothing like a wholesome day of family bonding!  (you know I obviously have less reason to be upset since it's now gonna take you (5 seconds) longer to get home and get away from your kids and I only almost just DIED, you JERK)).

So to make this shorter and not go into a 500 word essay on how crappy they treat and pay their employees because everyone is so desperate for jobs (so desperate I was upset when the jobs filled up before I got my application in), I will conclude with a simple yet emphatic statement:

I HATE YOU TWEETSIE!

Hiking in the "high" country

The area I live in is known as the "high country" because it's....wait for it......in the mountains (if you'd like to get to the point skip down about 5 paragraphs, if you like rambling and have nothing else to do, continue reading)

(Geography lesson: North Carolina is segmented into three parts going from west to east "The high country" mountain region, "The foothills" Piedmont region (where I'm  originally from, I traveled far), and "the coastal plains" or the beach/kind of.)

Sometimes I think the "high country" was named not because of it's geological constructs but because of the activities of about a 1/3 of it's population.

Exhibit A:

I went hiking with my boyfriend through a surprisingly flat 3 mile circuit around a lake in a shallow valley yesterday. It's an easy walk (I know I said Hike earlier but it was more of walk being there was no climbing or wrestling of foliage, but the alliteration sounded better with hike).

 We saw the usuals on the path (meaning we recoginze the type not the person) the over exhausted family that's trying to make memories but who's children are probably still to young to remember the experience anyways, but will break into a cold sweet the rest of their lives at the site of a water bottle and will never know why. The old couple that leaves you in the dust no matter how fast you think you're going. The out of place people that would rather be watching a rerun of "Golden Girls"  and realize this was a mistake half way through the trail (me). The serious enthusiast that's out there because he/she enjoys physical activity (my boyfriend), And once again. my arch nemesis, the hippies.

(I promise I'll get to the point sooner or later, if you're familiar with this page, you know it'll be later)

There are two types of hiking hippies you often come across, the " I went on a quick hike that lasted a month/don't eat your dollar trail mix eat my homemade homeopathic trail mix that cost $50 a pint /We should take care of our mother(earth)" type hippie, which will usually leave you alone unless you provoke them by using a plastic water bottle and then there's the "I came out here to "bong" with nature/I think dreads are natural and not out of place in a sterile environment/ let's all dance under the moon before replanting our souls" type hippies.

The second and more aggressive type hippie should be avoided at all cost when "hiking"  an easy trail. They will invite you to their communion circle, other you some "natural substance" and try to find out the story of your life force, this type of hippie has been known to be contagious, so BE VERY careful, some people are immune to this infection and others are highly susceptible(Science has yet to find a diagnostic technique to determine the chances any one person has of sub-coming. Much like the drugs they may offer you, you don't know if the first time will put a hole in your brain or if you'll see funny colors, so best to stay away from it).

We were attacked by the second type of hippies on Sunday but, thanks to our quick thinking and cat like reflexes, (spoiler alert!) we were able to escape. As were walking along a particularly open stretch of trail with  a beautiful bridge over a little brook, we saw them coming. They had already started across and we were to far along on the bridge to turn back.

We followed the rules at first, we filled our heads with thoughts of "McDonalds" and "Wal-Mart", natural hippie repellents.  We stuck or water bottles out in front of us like a cross and we avoided eye contact while talking about Hummers. These were mutant hippies, stronger than most of their brethren. They made contact anyways.

Hippie- "Are you guys breeding yet?!" he yelled it even though he was less than 2 yards away at this point.

Me and my boyfriend- deafening silence as we try to figure out why he thinks were dog breeders, he had a dog with him, was this a proposition?

Hippie- "Have you two started breeding yet? We're (here we notice a second less hostile hippie) deciding what poeple should breed and which shouldn't. Have you to bred yet? "

Me and my boyfriend- STUNED silence, what out come do we want here? "Not Awkward" is no longer an option. Is this a "Green Day" reference? Is he calling us stupid?

Hippie- (continuing like there is nothing unusual about this conversation, like that we're not responding ) "You guys should defiantly bred, you're both beautiful people"

So this guy was insanely high right? I'm almost four months preganent so it's kind of starting to look like I'm "breeding" and I am not a pretty person, I'm funny, I'm smart, and I cook a mean pot roast but "beatiful" I am not. My boyfriend is more than above average, and I think most people think I'm his homely sister, so I understand some one wanting him to "go forth and multiple", but really? WHO THE FREAK SAYS THAT? See this, right here, is why I don't like hippies.