Denver, Colorado (aka White People Galore)
The weekend before last found us in Denver, home of pristine snow-capped mountains and Rocky Mountain Oysters, which I hear are surprisingly stringy. Since Reggie and I average a major fight about every two weeks, we were due for one the week of, which put this trip in jeopardy. Luckily, we managed to pull it together in time to get on a plane with the Michigan crowd, consisting of Sareet, AD, Josh, Courtney, Hong and Amol. We were also joined by this greasy rock-star, villain-in-a-set-in-Miami-Bruckheimer-movie dude who we had to turn the plane around for because he told the stewardess that he had a machine gun in his bag, which was sitting in his lap. Hong theorized that the guy was referring to his penis, but nevertheless, we didn’t get past the runway before they took us back to the gate and escorted the snakeskin-wearing gentleman off the plane (note to self: Do not refer to my penis as a machine gun until AFTER landing at destination, at which time stewardess will be free to fully express suitable admiration).
We met up with Amol’s girlfriend Annie (flying in from Salt Lake City) and Sareet’s Max at the airport, and soon packed a clown minivan full of enough luggage to fill Gilligan’s Island and headed to Vail. Max had rented a cute little wood cabin at the resort facing the slopes which we couldn’t see at night but imagined must be beautiful. In a cursory search of the cupboards, the boys discovered a VHS copy of Executive Decision (starring Steven Seagal and Kurt Russell), which ran continuously on the TV throughout our stay at Vail.
The next day, everyone went skiing except for Reggie and I who were left behind due to bum knees. Since we’ve been adamant about some day catching a fish, we figured Colorado would provide stellar fishing, despite the fact it still displayed winter-like conditions. We hiked around the village (where we noted that we saw more black people in China than in Vail, and where I also noted that The Bachelorette’s Ryan had lived here) until we found a place that offered a guide and equipment for flyfishing for $275. We asked if it was a good time to go fishing and they told us it was a perfect time. The guide showed up and fit us in waders, making us look like burly meatpacking workers. I proceeded to do a dramatic reinactment of Charlize Theron from North County fighting for women’s rights in a blue collar man’s world, but since I hadn’t seen the movie and only knew the clip they used for the Oscar’s, I just kept screaming at Reggie to, “GET IN THE CAR!”
Mercury Retrograde made the staff of the fishing store unable to print out a pair of fishing licenses for us, so the guide had to take us to Kroger’s to try to obtain licenses. Unfortunately, the woman at Kroger’s couldn’t print out our licenses either, which makes me suspect that in Colorado, people potentially spell “print” as C-A-N-C-E-L. We finally manage to get a pair of temporary licenses, and we’re off to the river to fly fish.
Reggie and I have never fly-fished before, but the guide was great and gave us a short lesson. Fly fishing is a lot about timing–pulling the line as soon as you feel a tug and maintaining the tension, since the hooks are barb-less. We got into the water, which is the strangest sensation because I could feel freezing water between my boots and my wader, and my natural instinct when water gets into my shoes is that it’s a very, very bad situation. I managed to drop first one glove then the other in the water, so I was more or less fishing with bare hands when it started snowing. We trooped it out in the freezing cold and both managed to each catch 1 tiny fish and 1 stick. At one point, the snow was coming down heavily and the guide said to me, “You guys are crazy.” I asked him why and he said, “Because you guys are fishing while it’s snowing.” Keep in mind, everyone back at the store had told us it was a “perfect” time to go fishing.
By the time we got back to the car, neither of us could feel our fingers or our toes, but it was fun. It wasn’t as fun as it looked in “A River Runs Through It,” but I suspect that it would be a lot more fun if it weren’t, say, snowing.
Later that night, we headed out to this basement club in Vail Village that was packed in a way that tensions ran high because you couldn’t move without hitting someone (ie…a girl elbowed me in the eye trying to motion to a friend). The music was okay (good music if it were the early 90’s) and the crowd was heavily made up of Europeans and drunk hos. When someone on the dance floor farted and nearly killed everyone within a 12 foot radius, we had to leave.
I’m not a huge fan of snow because it’s cold. I don’t like it when my fingers burn. But the absolute best thing about snow, especially fresh snow, has to be the snowball fights. Outside the club, we got into an internal snowball fight that escalated into the inclusion of strangers. Alliances were formed (Midwest Alliance, Asian Alliance) and it all escalated into Protecting The Bus Stop. Friends and enemies were made that night, and at least one Legend–The Vigilante who threw major-league speed snowballs and launched a surprise attack from the roof of the bus stop–was immortalized. That snowball fight is probably in my Top 10 Most Fun Events of my life. Our drunken asses also launched a minor snowball attack on Amol/Annie and Josh/Courtney as they slept in their beds, which they very much appreciated and thanked us for with expletives.
We headed back to Denver the next day to stay at Max’s pad downtown. While everyone settled in for March Madness, a small group of us headed out to explore. We found an ESPN Zone and Reggie and I beat that boxing game where you hold these heavy-ass “gloves” and box animated guys, and the game tells you how many calories you burned. We walked over to city hall where a newsperson interviewed Reggie and I about the incoming storm (I claimed that Denver was due to get 30 feet of snow) and then we asked the twitchiest guy for directions (he left us by walk-walk-skip-skip-turned around and stared at us, then walk-walk-skip-skip-turned around and stared. He did this for a good 100 yards). Even though he could have potentially been a serial killer, his bizarre behavior made me decide to chase him, but I got tired after about 10 yards because of the thin air.
Dinner at Red Lobster followed, then a minor snowball fight and retirement at an early hour to catch a 6am flight (3 am wake up call) the next day.
One thing I’ve gotta say, when you travel with a good group, even the must mundane things seem fun.
Trip Statistics:
# of Greasy Weirdos Thrown Off a Plane: 1
# of Bags Lost by Airlines: 1
# of Major Skiing Injuries: .5 (minor cases of hurt pride)
# of Rocky Mountain Oysters Knowingly Eaten: 0
# of Times Bus Stop Successfully Protected: 1
# of Buses Assaulted by a Drunk Max: 1
# of Police Cars Assaulted by a Drunk Max: 1
# of potential serial killers chased: 1
In summary, I highly recommend a trip to beautiful and eventful Colorado.
(Sareet also has a funny and detailed recount of the weekend with photos…so here.)