They let crazies hang out in Red Rock Canyon. Once, my family rounded a bend while frolicking on a trail and some strung-out freak of a female verbally assaulted them. She screamed warnings of dangerous wildlife (rabbits) and claimed to own the land (a city-owned property) and threatened to hurt us if we hurt our dog (as we stooped to pick up his crap). I wish I was making this up.
If you go to Red Rock Canyon on the perfect fall day at the perfect hour of the morning, you may run into some sort of stumbling being on the easy, amateur trails. You will find said being, let us call her E, pausing every 200 feet to correct wardrobe malfunctions.
- Her stylish and hike-inappropriate Converse laces once again need to be tied.
- The last rock she tripped over has caused her Kenzie sunglasses to wobble and fall off. But only off one ear this time.
- The persistent wind-slash-Mother-Nature prefers the perfected two-feet of hair to sport a more wind-blown coif (they are now fighting profusely, a battle neither admit to have won or lost).
- Another wind effect has caused snot to run, which finds its happy home on the right sleeve of Gap’s favorite T (in black).
- There’s a hole in the crotch of her jeans. It wasn’t that big when she left home.
Hikers, if you find E, send her home as soon as possible, and text 9-1-1 to her stylist. ‘Cause they let crazies hang out in Red Rock Canyon.