South of the Border

The Carolina border, that is.

This place has quite an interesting story. Apparently, fireworks are legal in South Carolina, but not in North Carolina. Some wise entepreneur noticed a potential cashmaking opportunity, and began to transform a stretch of road just south of interstate 95 into a sort of "firework city," with various cheap restuarants and junk shops, which tourists from the north could also use to stock up on explosives.

Perhaps taking his cue from the countless ethnic stereotypes used as mascots by professional and college sports teams, this entepreneur created "Pedro," a lovable, wide-eyed Hispanic, complete with sombrero, poncho, and broken english skills. Pedro appears on at least 100 billboards along the adjacent freeway, most of them poking fun at his accent. For example: a sign with a giant hot dog on it, which reads "You never sausage a place! Everybody's a weiner with Pedro!"

The "town" itself is a sort of kiddie-Las-Vegas, with countless bright lights, neon signs, and cheap second-hand carnival rides. And of course, in keeping with the ethnic theme, there is a sombrero on just about everything. No fewer than three buildings are, in fact, shaped like giant sombreros - although, it is worth noting that none of the restuarants here appear to serve any form of Mexican food.





In addition to Mexican-themed gimmicks like "the Golf of Mexico" (a mini-golf course), and a few *attempted* Mexican-themed gimmicks ("the Monte Carlo Arcade" has sombreros all over it, despite the fact that the city of Monte Carlo is in Monaco, Europe) there are a large number of odd non-sequitur props, which have no visible connection to the town's theme. My guess is that most of the scenery in South of the Border is made up of leftovers from some other, long extinct tourist trap, and that the ownership has simply attached sombreros and ponchos wherever possible. Of course, not every animal has a sombrero that will fit its head, so we end up with some rather odd leftovers. The three-headed giraffe tunnel, for example:



The entire area is a grotesque (and hilarious) bastardization of Mexican culture, which I am sure would be faced with numerous lawsuits if it had opened in one of the more ethnically integrated parts of the country. The average American has a somewhat distorted view of our neighbors to the south - even in my right-on-the-border hometown of San Diego, Mexico continues to be thought of as the impoverished desert wasteland we know from period Western movies. Not the highly populated and diverse sub-tropical world which it more closely resembles.

And here, in a corner of the states where there is little Mexican-American presence, those stereotypes have been taken to a whole new level. It would be easy to be offended by this glitzy attraction's blatant ethnic ignorance - but it's even easier to laugh at it. Ignorance is, in a way, far funnier than accuracy. Seriously, how could I get mad at a place which claims to have "sometheeeng for every juan"?

Conch Shell Temple

A surprisingly little known U.S. fact (especially among us geographically ignorant Californians) is that Kansas City is not, in fact, located in Kansas. While there *is* a place by that name in the eponymous state, it is in fact little more than a suburb for the densely urban Kansas City of Missouri.

Once can't help but wonder why the city has mantained use of this confusing name, as it can't possibly be good for tourism. K.C. is actually a very likable place, famed for a variety of elaborate fountains and an important place in music history - however, most coast-dwellers hear the word "Kansas" and are immediately struck by images of the black-and-white farming wasteland from the early scenes of "The Wizard of Oz," hardly an ideal vacation spot.



Due to some strange turn of events that I can't quite recall, I have found myself in the K.C. suburb of Independence, investigating a strange conch-shell shaped building which I spotted from the road and could not ignore. The sign in front reads "Community of Christ Temple and Headquarters," which right away confirms that I must indeed go inside. I know nothing about this particular sect of Christianity, but any religion which asks its members to meet inside of a giant seashell is one that I would certainly like to know about. I tuck in my shirt and enter.

"Well! I didn't think we'd see you again, after all that fuss this morning!" says one of the small old ladies at the front desk.

"Uhm, I'm sorry?" I do my best to make my confusion at this statement obvious, in the hopes that she will clarify. "This is my first time here..."

One of her little old lady cohorts leans over to her and, whispering in her ear, corrects her. "I don't think that this is the same one, dear." She swivels back towards my direction and politely explains. "There was a gentleman who came by this morning, who I guess was angry at the church... or maybe just angry, I don't know."

"He was being rather... loud. And unsavory, in front of the the building," adds the first. Then she explains her mistake. "He did look an awful lot like you. And since you were both wearing black shirts, I though, maybe, he had come back to get the last word."

So, apparently I have a doppleganger, who gets his kicks from cursing at buildings full of little old women. Probably an interesting character, but not the kind of guy I would prefer to be associated with. I silently regret choosing black today.



It is a third little old lady who offers to take me on a tour of the temple, and give me a brief rundown of the organization's history. Honestly, I'd much rather hear about the history of the building itself, but I don't tell her this, as the church's story and doctrine are presumably quite important to her.

So, I play along. "So, how would you sum up your theology?"

"Well, do you know what a Latter Day Saint is?" she asks in return.

"Yeah... it's what most people know as Mormonism."

She makes a sour face, as if I have just said a dirty word. "Well... there are a lot of Latter Day Saint groups. The Mormons are one of them, yes... but not one who is very much aligned with the... true teachings of Joseph Smith ."



Apparently, the Community of Christ (who before 2001 went by the overly verbose name "The Reorganized Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints") is a Mormon splinter group, one which is eager to break any association with their cousins in Utah. One of Joseph Smith's earliest attempts to establish an official home base for his radical new religion was right here in Independence - although, as with the other attempts, there was friction with other local religious groups, and the L.D.S. got the boot.

After Smith's death, there were many disagreements as to what direction the church should take, with certain factions having problems with new leader Brigham Young's polygamist views and practices. One of these factions evolved into the R.C.O.J.C.O.L.D.S., who eventually were able to return to Missouri and set up camp.

The modern R.C.O.J.C.O.L.D.S. has only a few differences from modern Mormonism (which has long since renounced, and even become adamantly opposed to, polygamy) - however, my guide makes it very clear that Community of Christ members in general consider any L.D.S. groups which recognize Young as a prophet to be gangs of sinners and Lamanites, perverts and worse.

I can't help but silently laugh at this. Where I am from (and in most of the country, in fact) Mormonism is usually inaccurately stereotyped as the essential puritan religion - an old-fashioned circle of conservatism so reserved that they refuse to even drink soda. But to these people, Mormons will always be reckless party animals, throwing their lives away sinfully to a perversion of the one true path. To these people, there is little distinction between a house of Mormons and a house of Strippers. To these people, a single, outdated disagreement from almost 200 years ago is as good a reason as any to bear a lasting grudge.

I look up at the spiraling, circular ceiling and I'm reminded. These people live in a giant seashell.