I arrived late to Denver International Airport, worried that I would not get to my Super Shuttle on time. Dee Stortion, Bad Ass Momma, and I wandered through the airport looking for our respectful modes of transportation. A helpful clerk directed me outside to the shuttle's pickup spot. Now, I had checked and re-checked my itinerary before I started my trip. The shuttle should have taken me to the Comfort Suites where I was staying with Draggin Lady. I arrived at the Comfort Inn in Westminster and was told to get out. The main doors of the motel were locked. Through an intercom I heard, "Can I help you?"
"Yeah, I'm here to check in."
"It's under ____."
I was buzzed in where a nice, if strange woman told me that there was no one there by Draggin's name. Under the flickering fluorescent lights of the lobby, I was told to call the other Comfort Suites in the area. I did so. Yup. I was in the wrong place. Instead of the almost-posh Comfort Suites, I was in the bastard hybrid of the movie Hostel and Roadhouse, The
|"Welcome, Pelvis! I'm the voice of a dead clown."|
|Wait, an Image Search for "meth witch" had results that were exactly what I typed? The hell?|
Our room was pretty sweet. Draggin and Rainman of Rose City allowed me to have my own bed and I passed out quickly with dreams of the competition bouncing around in my skull. I woke up two hours before my roommates, showered and got a coffee before we headed out.
On the way to the venue, I marveled at the landscape. Giant mountains in the distance, sprawling strip malls in the forefront. Is this heaven? The store names, thankfully, showed that people around here had a sense of humor. "Pho China," "Just a Noodle Shop," and a gaming store that I believe was named "Basement Hobbies." I might not accurately recall the last one, but "Pho China?" That's really there. People dress different, too. We pulled alongside a woman who really understood color coordination.
|Same shade of car, coat, frames for her glasses, and the College sticker on her rear windshield. Wacky.|
I was no longer in New England. I had come to a place where primary colors meant everything. It was Aldous Huxley's Brave New World only with tumbleweeds and really dry air.
In the posts ahead: Ego! Dancing! The perils of Denver bartenders pouring really strong drinks! And COWBOYS!