Complaints From a Concerned Coloradan (White Guy in a Sandwich Shop)

At the risk of sounding dramatic or old, I am worried about the state of our state, Colorado. People are becoming more divided of late, mostly due to the current socio-political landscape of our country, and our beautiful Centennial State is becoming a gentrified, class-divided mess that no one person can solve. But I’ll give you my perspective.

I'll admit to my privilege as a Western European mutt, living in one of the wealthiest parts of the country. That doesn’t change the number of family members I have complaining about the same shit, different day. I’m a fourth-generation "native" myself; I’ve seen Colorado change and manifest from a collection of mountain towns oozing personality and charm to a strange mish-mash of condos and craft breweries. It's a gentrified soup with judgment vegetables stewing it all up. There's a smug aura around every beanie-wearing metrosexual driving a Tesla, speeding around the DTC with no regard for others, in a hurry to get to their Severance-styled office where no one knows (or cares to understand) the point of their own job.

My own upbringing starts in Castle Rock. A simple town when I was a child growing up in the early 2000s, boring as all get-out, but quiet and quaint. Safe. The Starlighting festival was always a highlight, the new outlet mall still had charm, and the Douglas County School District hadn’t yet resorted to blaming teachers for all their problems. But then the urban planners got a little too Rocky Mountain High and said, “Screw it, man! Roundabouts everywhere!”

I go back now, and the once-cute downtown area has risen above the gorgeous skyline. The new Phillip S. Miller Library is shadowed by apartment buildings that are not needed. Coffee shops now adorn every corner, about to be pushed out by pseudo-local smoothie shops hiding corporate skeletons in their closets.

Growing up, I was warned about the "dangerous" parts of the state: Pueblo, Aurora, Denver, Arvada. Respecting my elders’ warnings, I never really stepped foot outside of the Castle Rock bubble beyond family trips to Steamboat Springs or Mosquito Pass. Those gave me an appreciation for the natural beauty that surrounds us at every moment. Majestic mountains, right? Although the winters get tiresome, Coloradans still find a way to get out and have some fun.

But lately? Man, it’s tough. Half of my family was born in Colorado, as well as most of the friends I’ve retained from grade school, high school, college — and they’re fed up. They’re fed up with the traffic on I-25 at any given moment. They’re becoming resentful of out-of-state license plates. It’s becoming an elitist mindset that manifests in an air of superiority, of not wanting anyone else here anymore.

I currently live in Parker, and commuting around here has become a nightmare. Brand-new drivers are being pushed around by the huge white trucks of blue-collar workers trying not to be late to their grueling, back-breaking work for the Colorado Department of Transportation (and it’s a new project every day in this confusing infrastructure we’ve developed). Some drivers are going 55 in the left lane, some are going 85 in the middle, and most are doing anywhere between 30-90 wherever they please. The number of times I’ve seen near misses, close calls or genuine vehicular manslaughter has skyrocketed.
I don’t want to become resentful of anyone visiting our state. I worked at Denver International Airport for a spell, and everyone always had good things to say about Colorado. They said the people are nice, and the scenery even nicer. So I should be proud to live here. I should be proud of the cities I was warned about, cities full of hard-working, diverse people who have a story to tell and a sidewalk to shovel. A 9-5 to grind, and a bowl to pack afterwards.

The anger I see in myself and fellow Colorado "natives" is worrying, but understandable at the same time. As much as I want to share this place with others and enjoy its beauty together, it isn’t the same Colorado I remember. People from other backgrounds come here for opportunity, progressiveness and personal growth, but those of us who were already here just don't want them.

Now you're asking: “If you’re just gonna sit and whine and complain about it, why don’t you leave?”

I don’t want to leave, but it’s becoming economically unfeasible to stay. According to Rent.com, a one-bedroom in Denver costs about $1938 a month. Using an inflation calculator, that’s about an extra grand per month compared to the average prices in 2000. A quarter century equates to a 190 percent increase? I’m no mathematician (obviously), but those numbers seem unreasonable.

It’s sad to see coworkers, teachers, EMTs, nurses and other real-life superheroes resort to picking up another job just to afford the rent. It’s sad to see migrants bust their ass all day, at two or three jobs, just to barely scrape by. I understand that it’s getting expensive to live everywhere because of circumstances beyond our control, but the rising costs are damaging to the soul, let alone our wallets.

Although I’m fed up with the infrastructure, attitude and atmosphere of my home state — it’s my home state, after all. I am very proud of us, but we have a lot of work to do. Without the natural beauty, mountain hospitality and some progressive politics, we wouldn’t house some of the coolest motherfuckers in the nation.

Transplant or not.

Lane Newlin grew up in Castle Rock, is 24 and works in a sandwich shop, where he says he gets to see "all walks of life."

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