Morlocks

     Ordinarily, I don't spend too much time in cities. An occasional drunken romp in New York, a rare trip to Philly to get wasted...I'm noticing a pattern here, that I usually only go to cities to get wasted. Well, this trip is certainly no exception. I've stumbled and fallen on my face in Minneapolis, upchucked in Seattle, and peed my pants in Las Vegas (technically inaccurate, as I was not actually wearing any pants when that occurred). But this entry isn't about my drinking problems (we'll have a separate entry for that!), it's about the...other people in the cities. The ones not there to party or confidently stride to their executive offices. The people I call The Morlocks (read your H.G. Wells', people! Or at least watch the shitty movie with Guy Pearce.)

A finer role model, I know not.

     Now those of you familiar with your 19th century sci-fi will know that the Morlocks inhabited the dystopian underground of a distant future. Above them, small, frail Eloi lived in a lush and wonderful paradise. How is this paradise possible? Well, the good ol' Morlocks run all the underground machines to power this Eden the Eloi live in. The Morlocks are portrayed as the villains in The Time Machine, but I always felt the Eloi were the real bad guys. Lounging around, loving life while ugly people toil underground for your benefit? Sounds villainous to me. Sure, the Morlocks would occassionally eat one of the Eloi, but hey, they had to get their energy somewhere, right?

Not so bad, really, just misunderstood.

     I use the term Morlocks to refer to the people that make the city living I've witnessed and experienced possible. The janitors, the cooks, the garbagemen, all the anonymous blue-collar workers it takes to power a city. I realize that may sound mean, or derogatory, but I don't think of it that way. Remember, I sided with the Morlocks when reading that book; the Eloi were the bad guys to me. Instead of being small, androgynous children, the Eloi are now the tourists, the businessmen, and disappointingly, myself, I suppose. The Morlocks come to a downtown they'll never live in to pick up our trash, sweep our streets, and prepare our food. If they're lucky, their specific industry may encourage tipping, so they'll get a little something extra, at least. If tipping is not a part of their profession, they probably won't even get direct eye contact from us Eloi.

     It makes me sick, really. And there's nothing I could do about it anyway. Somebody has to clean up dogshit. Even if I had a winning smile, wink, and a warm handshake for every service worker, they'd only eye me with suspicion. "Why is this strange Eloi engaging me? Highly unusual behavior for one of their ilk..." they'd think. So, I support them silently. I always throw my trash in the proper receptacles, tip well when appropriate, and generally clean up after myself as much as possible. I suppose if it really bothered me, I wouldn't stay in hotels or visit tourist traps at all, but I do anyway, of course. It's impossible to avoid in this day and age. Shit travels downstream, and I've swallowed my share of it as well. To be honest, I'm not much more than a Morlock living the Eloi lifestyle for a while, myself. This fantasy vacation will have to end at some point, and I'll return to my place in the chain, eating a larger portion of shit than I produce for the ones beneath me...