A country mouse's guide to city life

During a radio story I heard recently on the importance of rural voters to President Bush's re-election, there was a statement made about how urban dwellers tend to be condescending to country folk.

They can condescend to their heart's content.

After spending nearly four days in the suburbs of Denver a few weekends ago, I left a city of millions thankful (a perfect column for this Thursday's holiday) that I live in the kind of place where you can lift the local phone book without six months of combined strength training and a serious cardiovascular routine.

There are a few things I appreciate about sprawling large cities like Denver: ethnic restaurants and movie theaters with stadium seating, which are arriving here soon, so never mind.

But there are many features that make it difficult for me to keep my own condescension in check when visiting relatives in the big city. Aside from the classic complaints involving traffic and smog, the detriments of Denver, and many other metropolitan areas, include, but are not limited to:

- The endless drive to the airport, even after spending nearly $6 for the privilege of speeding along the uncrowded toll highway. The airport used to be conveniently located near the city center; to better serve all passengers it was relocated to Nebraska.

- Being made to feel somewhat bovine while herded through airport security. The day I flew back to Kalispell out of Denver International Airport, about 40,000 people were corraled in one area waiting to pass through the metal detectors. Given the required shoe removal and the number of people in line caught up in cell-phone discussions about life-changing career decisions, the situation was not exactly built for speed.

- The excessive stress on one's memory and dialing finger. With three different area codes that must be used even when calling just across a suburb or two, it's easy to confuse the area codes, which I discovered over the course of many wrong numbers dialed during my short stay.

- A Sunday newspaper the size of a small couch or at least an overstuffed recliner. (See above phone-book reference for lifting prerequisites.)

- Unusually fit crowds taking over concert venues. For a quick stair-running workout, my sister and I went to Red Rocks outdoor ampitheater, where I had once seen many fine musical groups, including U2, REM (opening for the long-forgotten English Beat) and the twin bill of the forgotten-for-a-good-reason acts, the Flock of Seagulls and The Fixx. Anyway, there were hundreds of people there ahead of us climbing stairs, including the Colorado School of Mines track team, most likely correlating the ratio of gravity to volume and incline values with each set of stairs run at the optimum velocity. There was also a fitness class jumping rope on the stage while others in the group, instructed by a muscular man with a whistle, used the ampitheater's coveted front row seats for a quad-strengthening exercise. (There's really nothing disturbing about this scene - it was just completely unexpected.)

- In big cities you almost never run into anyone you know at the grocery store, which, come to think of it, may be an advantage as grocery-store meetings can be awkward if two shoppers are looking for similar stuff. By the time you've met in the produce department, and the canned vegetable, baking goods, bread and snack-food aisles, you are bound to have run out of interesting small talk. By the time you reach frozen foods, you're reduced to the dreaded nod of recognition.

Certainly unlimited stair-climbing opportunities and shopping anonymity are not attributes to be taken lightly, but they're still not enough to justify any city-dweller's condescending attitude.

Though with a bit of creative mudslinging, they could become key wedge issues during the next presidential campaign.