The Grump Goes to Santa Fe
Once upon a time, there was a Grump. He didn't always used to be a Grump. Maybe it was his skepticism of the value of a staycation. Perhaps he was frustrated with people judging his water-carrying backpack, saying that he was much too close to home to dress like such a tourist.
Some people just don't like Santa Fe.
"Santa Fe people," thought the Grump "are a bunch of hippies. I will not smile, no matter how much my cute wife wants a photo of me in front of the Santa Fe sign. You must never smile at a hippie or they will steal your power."
When faced with the prospect of walking to Canyon Road to browse the art galleries, the Grump crumpled his oversized hat in frustration. "We have perfectly good art in Albuquerque," he muttered.
Shopping at the Santa Fe Plaza only seemed to create a Sleepy Grump. "We rode the train here," he was quick to point out. "You can't get any of this junk home. It's all overpriced anyway. The music…
Some people just don't like Santa Fe.
"Santa Fe people," thought the Grump "are a bunch of hippies. I will not smile, no matter how much my cute wife wants a photo of me in front of the Santa Fe sign. You must never smile at a hippie or they will steal your power."
When faced with the prospect of walking to Canyon Road to browse the art galleries, the Grump crumpled his oversized hat in frustration. "We have perfectly good art in Albuquerque," he muttered.
Shopping at the Santa Fe Plaza only seemed to create a Sleepy Grump. "We rode the train here," he was quick to point out. "You can't get any of this junk home. It's all overpriced anyway. The music…
