There's a shortage of scruffy guys wandering Nevada's deserts.
I have no personal knowledge of this. In fact, when I'm out in the Nevada desert, I seem to always be running into a couple of scruffy guys on dirt bikes, or riding their horses, or sometimes walking aimlessly through the sagebrush.
Sometimes it's a scruffy guy and a scruffy gal. With their scruffy dog.
But with 70 million acres of Nevada desert out there, plenty of elbow room exists to bring in scruffy tourists from around the globe to scuffle through Nevada's dust, climb Nevada's rocky cliffs and track dirt into Bruno's in Gerlach, where they will buy more ravioli.
Hence, the Nevada Commission on Tourism's new advertising campaign.
It is, in a word, scruffy.
I saw the first example in the February 2002 issue of Nevada Magazine. It shows a middle-aged guy in a do-rag, four days growth of grey-tinged beard on his face, staring into the void of Nevada wilderness.
"What kind of animal are you?" asks the ad. "You are not a lemming. You are a predator. You hunger to pit your dreams against the cold breath of reality.
"This, word of Nevada comes as welcome news. More wild-eyed walkabout wilderness. More ways to assert your standing on the food chain. More brutally beautiful than weaker creatures dare fathom."
"Want more meat? 1-800-NEVADA-8."
Another ad touts Nevada's wilderness as "A nice quiet place to get in touch with your inner masochist."
You betcha. This is truth in advertising.
Not since the Donner Party set out from Illinois have tourists thinking about visiting Nevada gotten the real lowdown.
Flash and glitter. Slot machines and craps tables. Wayne Newton and showgirls. Air-conditioned hotel rooms and all-you-can-eat buffets. That's the image of Nevada most tourists carry around in their heads.
Wimps. Get out of the damn car. Pit your dreams against the cold breath of reality.
Of course, I'm not a good example. It's been a long time since I spent four days cooking over a campfire. Recently, the longest stretch I've spent out of doors was picking up the dog poop from the back yard. Talk about your cold breath of reality.
The people the ads aim to attract are called "adventure travelers," and they apparently make more money per household than your average "soft adventurer," who is content merely to camp and ski. The adventure traveler likes to hang glide, kayak and rock climb, according to the Travel Industry Association, and spends $1,275 per trip as opposed to just $820 per trip for the boring regular Joes.
It's possible, I guess, the extra $400 per trip is spent in the local emergency room. If that's the case, then we're well positioned in the medical-services field to exploit the market.
Another reason for the new campaign apparently was because people who had never been to Nevada simply didn't believe it has beautiful scenery.
R&R Partners, the Las Vegas-based ad agency which handles the account for the Nevada Commission on Tourism, ran ads by a bunch of focus groups and wasn't pleased with what it heard.
If Nevada was going to promote its scenic mountains, people said, it was going to have a hard time persuading people it was more beautiful than other Western states. So it went the other way. Nevada is tough.
In fact, that's the tag line on the ads: "Nevada. Bring it on."
Well, that's a challenge. Not just for the tourists, but for the people who live here. We're going to have to adapt.
I suppose we could distribute more of the bumper stickers like the one in my neighborhood that says, "If you can't shoot them, why do they call it Tourist Season?"
No, it's not that simple. When we see scruffy-looking guys with backpacks, we have to realize they're not lemmings. They're predators. They're asserting their standing on the food chain.
So be prepared to give them a ride into the Nevada desert. They'll find their own way back. Or else face that cold breath of reality.
Tourists. Bring 'em on.
Barry Smith is managing editor of the Nevada Appeal.
