An Open Letter to Watsonville by Alex Machock

Dear Watsonville,

What the hell is up with you?
As of now this has been my second visit to your humble little city, and I must say I don’t know what to make of you, man.
You know I came here with an open mind; let me tell you, people thought I was crazy for thinking of even visiting you. But I didn’t listen, I told them you had the closest Target around, and that it can’t be that bad.
I don’t know about that anymore.
The first time I came I actually didn’t have any clue of where the Target was. No problem, I thought. I’ll simply ask for directions. Surely someone will be able to help me out.
I guess I forgot to take into account that about 95% of your city doesn’t speak English.
The first true Watsonvillagers I came across were what looked to be a couple of sisters walking down the sidewalk. I decided to ask the one that looked closest to my age,
“hey do you know where Target is?”
She just stared at me.
“you know…Target?…the store?…which is in Watsonville?”
she kept staring at me, eventually shaking her head “no” in the most painfully awkward, slowest manner possible.
Oh well, its cool Watsonville. I’ll just ask someone else. I see a Hispanic dude in a cowboy hat up ahead.
“hey uh do you know where Target is?”
He smiled at me and kept walking. Okay, now things are getting a little strange. Across the street is another Hispanic dude with a backpack on and a bunch of textbooks in his hand. Ah, he must be a student of some sort. He’ll know what’s up.
“hey man can you-“
And he immediately turns around and starts walking in the opposite direction. I literally had to just stop and stare at this guy, I was so dumbfounded. Eventually he turns around and starts walking toward me. I try again,
“hey do you know-“
And he does same thing, completely avoiding me. I can’t believe it, no one in this town will even fucking talk to me. Did I offend them somehow? Was it something I said? I try going to a bunch of local stores. They’re all closed. At 7:00pm.
Eventually I find a guy on a bike at a stoplight. I ask where Target is and he says,
“HMMMM…TARGET,” in an inappropriately loud voice. His mouth reveals him to be missing some teeth and he looks kinda loony. Alright, I’m thinking, this guys about to tell me some bullshit.
And actually, he gives me the directions.
You know I might visit you again, Watsonville, but you really need to get yourself out of the Twilight Zone.
Sincerely,
Alex Machock

p.s. your skate park sucks.