By Bridger Winegar

I can imagine falling into the temptation of becoming a New York City elitist. I could even see myself getting more specific with one of the city’s boroughs or neighborhoods–a Brooklyn snob or a West Village snoot, for example.
I’d struggle to do the same with Salt Lake City, however. The idea of feeling a sense of superiority from living in Sugar House rather than another section of the city, such as the Avenues, sounds humiliating. An even more embarrassing scenario is someone developing pride from living in Salt Lake City instead of a neighboring city. However, I’m constantly running into people who behave as if choosing to live in the city was some magnificently insightful decision.
The trouble with Salt Lake City elitism in comparison to a bigger metropolis such as New York City or Los Angeles starts with the city’s immediate competition. Unlike Los Angeles, which shares a state with several other major cities, Salt Lake City’s nearest rivals lie hundreds of miles away outside of Utah’s borders. In the time it takes to travel from Salt Lake City to Utah’s other “major city,” Provo, a New Yorker could nearly be to Philadelphia. For a Utahn looking to live in the city, Salt Lake City is the only option.
Salt Lake elitists often pride themselves on their love of diversity, but are often those who fall into one of two groups: white hipsters or white-wine sippers. The first group consists largely of suburban runaways, twenty-somethings who are out to prove they can live life on the edge by engaging in such thrill rides as smoking cigarettes or seeing independent films.
Members of the latter group are those who didn’t quite meet their ambitions of living in a real big city, and have settled in Salt Lake City because they “just love the mountains, just love hiking and just love cross country skiing” (and cheaper housing prices).
I have no problem with Salt Lake City–it’s a wonderful place with plenty of likable qualities, but to think of oneself as superior to the rest of the state’s citizens reeks of a person who has lost their sense. There is life south of 3300 South, and you don’t have to board a wagon train to enjoy it.
[email protected]