“Local” is a title one must self-apply carefully around these parts.
Everyone knows you are not a local — no matter how long you’ve been all
up in the 81611 — if the person you are talking to has lived here
longer than you. But I’ve also heard you are not a true local until you
have moved away from Aspen and come back at least three times.

“Local” is like a badge of honor in Aspen and other western mountain
towns. Locals are allowed to self-righteously pat themselves on the
back knowing they are cooler and totally have it going on over those
other people out there. When tourists pop the question on the
chairlift, “Are you a local?” even a seasonal luggage monkey fresh off
the RFTA bus has to smile on the inside while responding “yes.”

We have it so good here. I don’t need to tell you that. But for some
damned reason, that same bug that got me to Aspen in the first place
three winters ago is chirping again, and I am thinking about moving.
All things must change I suppose.

When contemplating a move out of the Valley of Plenty, one must
consider the landing site carefully. Trading down is a bad option and
can actually be hazardous to your health. Take the case of two friends
(let’s call them Larles and Chil) who were living the dream here —
dogs, yard, friends, the whole bit — but decided they wanted to be a
little more grown-up. So they moved to Cleveland and bought a house
with a fenced-in yard. That’s right. They willingly moved from Aspen to
Cleveland. I could have told them it was going to be bad, but I
whispered my encouragement as they were all smiles packing up the
U-Haul. Sure enough, it didn’t take long for the true nature of what
they had done to become evident, and they both came down like the
methadone clinic had just run out of goods.

Rule number one: Don’t leave Aspen unless you actually believe where
you are going will be better. Since basically nowhere fits that
description, it’s easy to see why there are so many people in this town
who supposedly moved here for a single winter 40 years ago, and they
still ski at least 80 days per year.

But I am a person who left the green fields of Oregon — my home turf,
and in no way a bad spot — to go out of state for college just because
there was an out-of-state college to go to. I can never resist the call
from Over There (what does this mean?) as long as I think it might be
interesting.

So it’s not that I believe any place can actually beat Aspen. That
would be a futile search, and I am probably forever ruined for working
at an office that supports lunch laps, only three blocks from the
gondola.

But where would I go? I’m looking for a place that is even more
expensive and has more barriers to entry than Aspen. Some place with
good food, bad traffic and breathtaking vistas. Someplace just like
Aspen, except not at all.

Figured it out yet? I am talking about the heart of West Coast
hipsterdom since the Summer of Love, the one and only City by the Bay:
San Francisco. While Aspen may get more tourists and money from that
rival cesspool of a sprawling metropolis to the south, I’ve always felt
that most local residents would clearly side with NorCal in the
L.A.-versus-S.F. divide.

This is all speculation and innuendo at this point, but I might have a
hook-up with some friends that live in a wonderful five-bedroom
apartment in the heart of the city that costs far less than San
Francisco ridiculousness, which is only slightly higher than Aspen
ridiculousness. And truthfully, I would never consider moving unless I
got the hook-up. But now that the seed has been planted in my head,
that sucker has grown, and I can’t help but think how exciting it would
be to relocate to such a vibrant city. It’s the kind of place where the
energy is such that simply walking down the street is interesting. Or
at least that’s how I experienced it the handful of times I’ve been
there. I had considered moving to San Fran post-college but the
mountains of Colorado had a stronger pull at the time.

But could I really handle moving over there, and giving up all of this?
I don’t think I would be all smiles if I’m packing up the U-Haul. But
Aspen is not going anywhere, right? And after a ski season of sitting
in gridlock traffic on Donner Pass with every other weekend warrior
from the Bay Area, the likes of which actually spawned the term
“gaper,” lord knows I would be aching for those lunch laps.

But I guess that’s what the boomerang effect is all about. After I come
back to Aspen after a few months of not being able to stand the
concrete jungle, I will still have to move away and come back two more
times before I am actually a local.

Where’s Wacko might have to get outta Dodge sooner than expected if the
Big Wrap doesn’t reopen soon. To recomend a good restaurant in San
Fran, e-mail him at curtis@aspendailynews.com.