When I discovered a way to go from Carlsbad up and over and down and go to White Sands National Monument, I was, well, "excited." We were all "excited" to avoid driving through El Paso, more than we were thrilled about white sand, no matter how monumental. I am of the prejudicial opinion that if Modesto is the armpit, El Paso is the unwashed groin of America, rubbing itself all up against Mexico at about 4 am, having crawled into bed stinking of tequila and cigarettes, groping weakly, then belching and spitting up, and immediately passing out as the rays of the bitch of the new day pierce the thin greasy curtains of the Sleepy Inn. Mexico gets up and showers, grabs all El Paso's clothes and money. Feeling doubly inspired by her gut, she squats over his insensate form and deposits a wet shit on his back.
So, yes, we were "excited" to have an excuse not to go through El Paso. The thought of going to a monument to white sand sent giggles of cynicism through Mom and I. Dad misheard where we were going and asked "White Fence?" From then on it was "White Fence National Monument". Seems just as likely as getting excited and national-monumental about some white sand.
Cynicism was proven wrong. It is true that white sand is not impressive in small pails or in sacks from the hardware or craft store. But if you put an immense unfathomable amount of it all in one place, it really is, uh, monumental.
That is probably true of almost anything in the universe. Get about 140,000 times more of it that you ever thought that you could have in one place and then make that just a small corner of the amount of it that you have. Do that with just about anything, and I you get a "National Monument."
And they shoot missiles off nearby.
We had a picnic.
I took a nap on top of a dune.
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