That said, while driving through Washington's Olympic State Park, I was forced to go through Forks, Washington, which anyone familiar with the books and movies will know is the setting for the fictional love story where a woman has to choose between her necrophiliac or bestial deviancy. I was with my British friend and Twilight enthusiast, Lizzie, who was more than happy to stop and have a look around the town. Really, more of a hamlet than anything else.
Olympic National Park, which was quite impressive and full of stuff for nature lovers and hot tub fans alike, is ringed by the historic two-lane highway, US 101. And that's really about it. Most of the land west of Seattle and east of the ocean is either owned by the National Parks Service or is set aside for Native American reservations (and not the kind that are chock full of casinos). The landscape is beautifully untouched, and probably full of indigenous wildlife, but the human population is noticeably lacking. Because of this, it draws a certain type of recluse to the small towns that dot the 101.
Forks is probably the largest town for about 50 miles (Port Angeles is about 50 miles E/NE of Forks), but in all told, it really sits in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing, separated from civilization by a large, snowy range of impassable mountains. Which is the only reason I can discern that it has an airport. According to Wikipedia, Forks has about 3,500 reclusive citizens, which is slightly less than my hometowns high school attendance (approximately 3,600 people). That said, there were restaurants and places to go shopping for sundry goods and luxury items. On a whole, though, Forks was like any other small, isolated community: dingy, a little suspicious looking and no entirely friendly. This is probably why Stephanie Meyers choose it for her vampire novels. Where else could century old vampires live and work without gaining the attention of other town folk (who, as media has shown us, will rise up with pitchforks and drive them out).
Unfortunately for Forks, the books became wildly famous. And when things are wildly famous, they draw fans - devoted fans with fists full of cash to spend on trinkets and collectibles that will commemorate their time in this place. This is why tourist spots like Times Square and Gatlinburg, TN are overrun by t-shirt stands and trinket dealers. Forks would be stupid to pass by some opportunities to bring money into their economy during these struggling times. However, a town of people who are comfortable living 150 miles from the nearest city (and 50 miles from the nearest town) are not exactly in the mind for figuring out how to elicit attention to their community. This creates an awkward tension between those who moved there to be away from everyone, and those who are there to make money off of the tourists.
There were the usual type of fare: Twlight tours, restaurants with specifically designed menus, places advertising Twilight inspired paraphernalia and t-shirts. There were also some people hoping to make money off idiots, like the guy selling Twilight firewood and kindling. There were some places that were aware of the demand for Twilight things, and they prepared to attract this demand with professional signs and cutouts, vehicle decorations and prominent advertisement. Others seemed less enthusiastic, using hand-made signs on a single sheet of typing paper, taped somewhere near the door.
As a counterweight to these stores and restaurants were dark, dingy buildings that made no effort to cater to Twilight fans. The complete lack of interest was as loud a statement as the gaudiest sign: this place is not for fans. It might be unfair to suggest that place who did not reach out to Twilight tourists were openly hostile, but what other reason could there be to not grab on to that tourist cash cow? Fans are going to go to Forks, so why not get them to go to your restaurant? The only logical reason is because you don't want them there. And without some nod to the movies and books (or vampires in general), this money is going to pass right on by.
The Forks Chamber of Commerce is keenly aware of this, and as such, has tailored their website to draw the tourist's dollar. There is an interactive map that lets users find all the "places of interest" in and around Forks (presumably these places have some connection with the book or movie, though I doubt the movie was filmed there). Honestly, while this sort of attention might not sit well with all those who live there, people would be making a huge mistake to pass by this easy money. No one can blame Forks for succumbing to it.
But, as you will read later in my post about LA, it lends a sense of disingenuousness to Forks. There are probably very lovely things about Forks that don't have to do with vampires. There might have be a little store that sold or imported handmade goods, a restaurant where the waitress knew the regulars by name and order, and a gas station that was always fairly priced. Now, though, anything that was unique to Forks has to have a veneer of vampirism to continue to survive. It's not big enough to survive these labels like Seattle has for grunge music, or Chicago for senseless gang violence. Forks can no longer be known as a community that lived on the edge of Washington's most sprawling forest with an inexplicable airport; it will forever be known as the fictional setting for a love story between a personality-less woman and a dead thing. Maybe Forks will be better for it, and maybe it can grow to become a mid-size city like Peoria, IL, or Indianapolis, IN, but there is no way that it can't be that. It will, from here on out, be an attraction, and that does not make it a good place to set up a home.
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