A Space To Argue
Asheville is a great place for people to go and argue. I’m certain that is what this place is designed for.
Not an intentional design, but a good layout for it no less.
Most of the kids who vacation here are somewhere in their mid to late twenties. They are comfortable enough to book a long weekend in a nice enough town. You’ll notice them because everyone around here walks around in pairs, and the gentleman of the pair usually has an entry-level dSLR strapped to his neck.
Every couple is pre-proposal, but they’ve talked about their future. They’ve dreamed what it might be like to have kids, but they haven’t really had the conversation about it. In the hotel rooms they nap and have sex. When they’ve had their fill they go down to the street level to find a place to drink with other couples they know.
On a long enough weekend, you eventually forget the right thing to say, so you end up saying the first thing. The first thing is rarely the right thing.
Suddenly, no one is dressed right for the photo they want to take. Not the photo for Instagram, but the one for the holiday card. After three drinks, no one seems to think anyone else is responsible enough for much of anything.
The fights start, the arguments happen. Always in public. Rarely is it the explosive kind of argument where you ask people to leave or feel like you might need to call the cops. It is a war waged with poison fermented from secrets.
Sunday morning, after the long holiday weekend, the cars line up outside of the hotels and bell boys rush around to exchange carts of luggage for tips. From the northwest, a breeze starts to flow. Leaves and trash rattle along the gutters and on their way out of town.
A few years from now, these couples will be back. Most of them, anyone. Some will return in the company of others. Some will return with small children in tow.
Every one of them aimed to relax, most of them will find a way to argue.
I guess that’s just what this town is built for.