In Denver, we stayed with my mother's friend and my previous neighbor. She was very worried about the state of her home because her family had just moved in a few weeks earlier. There were boxes in the living room! And the house was in general disarray! I was missing something clearly because her house looked spotless (if not sparse... but hey, even that beat the air mattress and piano that comprise my furniture). I tried to tell her that, I tried to tell her daughter that, but no one listened. The house was a mess and there was nothing you could say about it. Granted, if someone came to me in a week and told me they were sleeping in whatever apartment I find tomorrow (pretending I could find one tomorrow), I'd probably be freaking out too.
In the morning, we went into Denver. Which honestly, I didn't love. It reminded me of a mix of Italy and Miami, but mostly it seemed fake. Like a small town masquerading as a big city by throwing up a huge buildings hoping nobody could tell the difference. Though I did really like the suburbs (where I SWEAR the facade for the Boy Meets World high school existed in real life... like who knew high schools could really be that big?!). And Meagan (my neighbor's daughter, who I used to babysit, who is now 15, which is really fucking weird to me) took me to this cute (giant) bookstore called the Tattered Cover where they have this creepy statue of an old man reading a newspaper. In retrospect it was really sweet because it was dedicated to him and showed him reading his paper like he always did. (But when I climbed those stairs to that alcove, and rounded on him, boy, I must have jumped a foot in the air).
After Denver, we drove to Boulder for lunch, which I enjoyed considerably more. It was a small, college town masquerading as.... a small, college town. Except with an amazing view of the Rockies. We ate lunch on Pearl Street and I quickly fell in love with our waiter, Dan. Blonde hair, huge smile, and tall as a tree; I was a goner. Meagan and her mom didn't like him. They're from Chicago: apparently happy isn't cool there and the Colorado sunshine-all-the-time temperament hadn't grown on them yet.
If you've ever been to downtown Charlottesville, picture it now, imagine you're there. Got it in your mind? Great. Now you've seen Pearl Street. Full of hippies, hipsters, buskers, and busking hipster hippies, it was certainly a sight. Even though I loved it there, I'm not sure I could exist there for more than an afternoon.
In the evening, after fighting Denver rush hour traffic and experiencing something akin to claustrophobia in response to the sheer size of the Rockies (Do they ever end? Will we ever get out? Oh my god, is this a panic attack?!) we arrive in Summit County. I pretty much decided then and there that I was going to come back. By the morning I figured that I needed to start making enough money to rent a summer home up there (Rockies in the winter? No thanks, I do ski, or drive big cars). I dunno how to describe it; from what I saw, it's a bunch of hoity-toity little towns in the middle of the Rockies where a bunch of old hippies come to sit and hang out with their windows open.
I saw Abigail that night, which was wonderful. She is one of the brightest people I know. I don't mean smart-bright (well, she's that too), but like her personality is bright. That Colorado temperament I guess. She's got this golden-blonde hair that falls in delicate curls down her back and her laughter comes so easily and often it seems to be built into the timbre of her voice. When I first met her, I didn't think we'd get along. I'm not a very bright person, more snarky and aloof. It's not that I thought we'd dislike each other. I just figured we'd get along amicably enough, with nothing really in common. Senior year of college, she lived with us for two weeks during Sinfonicron's Secret Garden and I found out how wrong I was. I love this girl. Every time I see her I find myself thinking "I just want to be BFF's... FOREVER".
And then I coughed all over her sheets. I felt so ashamed after I left. Especially after I started getting chills and vomitted. I mean, who knows what virus I passed on to her, just by sleeping on her bed. Maybe BFF's is reaching a little high. How about "friends who don't hate each other for passing on potentially vomit-inducing viruses". I'll settle for that.
No comments:
Post a Comment