Outdoor Retailer Show Cancelled After Strike at Plaid Factory
SALT LAKE CITY – Outdoors shoppers and schwag enthusiasts were stunned today when the Salt Palace in Salt Lake City, Utah closed it’s doors on the Outdoor Retailer show, following a strike at a plaid factory in Bangladesh.
“We take this as a very serious act of terrorism,” the Press Correspondent for the show explained. “Plaid is at the heart and the soul of the Outdoor Retail show: it is a part of our history, our present, our future. It is our collective heritage.”
Apparently, the shutdown came after youtube footage of the bi-annual event, showing 99.999% of attendees clad in plaid, made its way to Bangladesh. When news leaked that each of those shirts cost approximately 50 times the hourly wage of the average employee of the facility, the machines shut down, and the workers walked out.
“I just don’t know what to do,” said Darren Jones, a lifelong OR attendee. “I mean, I was conceived at OR, I have plaid to thank for my very existence. I’ve worn plaid to every formal gathering in my life. What am I supposed to do now, put on a polo shirt?”
Not everyone was caught up in the hysteria, however. Boulderers, otherwise known as “bros,” “knuckle-draggers,” or “pebble pinchers,” appeared unfazed beneath brightly colored tanktops, beanies, and baggie Prana shorts. “Dude,” an anonymous boulderer explained, “like, as long as they don’t outlaw mother ganga… wait, what state is this again?”
While Outdoor Retailers are already stunned, and wondering where else to get free beer in the days to come, some say the worst is yet to come. Deborah Philips, an economist for Stoke-Psyched Magazine, warned that “this was just the tip of the iceberg. Just wait til the flip-flops facility in Taiwan catches wind of this. And what will everyone give away for free when chapstick makers hike their prices to meet market value?”
Meanwhile, a small group of sponsored “athletes” have seized on the opportunity to call into question the very notion of the Outdoor Retailer show, in the first place. “Doesn’t it seem a little backwards to you,” explained a kayaker who wished to remain anonymous, “that the only time we can ever get together to like talk about shit it’s all about capitalism and selling stuff and you know like meanwhile rivers need to be protected and mountains are dying and there’s like all this stuff going on in the world but what do we ever do about it all we ever do is just meet up in Utah once a year or twice or whatever and drink beer and pretend like everything’s all hunkydory and meanwhile there’s shit that needs to be protected and like just think about what if John Muir and Mother Teresa and Gandhi and stuff were all here today and could see this and the forefathers of our sports you know like what would they have to say about it maybe its a good thing you know like the walkout and all I bet they have some badass rivers in Bangladesh maybe we can like somehow involve them next time you know like have the OR over there in India or whatever and we’ll teach them to kayak and raise wages and stuff, you know?”
Fred Beckey, a 273-time OR attendee, said what was, perhaps, on everybody’s mind: “Where am I, and how did I get here?”