Instant scenery change blew through the ATM’s windshield as I crossed the imaginary dividing line between Nebraska and Colorado; from bare ditches and Great Plains that weren’t so great to ditches filled with wildflowers and a backdrop painted with real live mountains. Serendipitous timing cast me as voyeur to a good fifteen minute peep show of hardcore love making between Sun and Rockies.
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| I snapped this by holding my trusty Canon 40D out my sunroof while cruising down I-80. |
Scents rarely found outside a naturist’s apothecary accompanied Cousin Brian’s welcoming embrace. Lucile Vanderbilt and Sir Winston Woo were introduced to Brian, his fantastic lover (fantastic as in an amazing person, not fantastic as in great lay, you fucking pervert) turned wife Sara Joy and their newly rescued hounds Juke (owner of the home) and Hops (statuesque shiba inu).
Staying at Allen House Denver feels as if you are part of an experiment of better living by way of intellectual exchange, non-processed consumables and a greater sense of the world around you. Yeah, I know this is some heavy shit, but these cats are operating on a plane in which the rest of the world should envy. Each night Brian pokes around in his stash of loose leaf teas and steeps a blend that magically represents the day’s events. We would sit in the portico with hounds to breathe in the Denver sky and absorb one another’s eccentricities.
Christ this is getting deeper. Pull up, pull the fuck up. Whew, that was a close one.
My first night made its way onto the list of best B&Bs via dandy tray. This orange beauty contained a bottle of mineral water, a horny Kama Sutra tumbler, Allen House harvested champagne grapes, dates, almonds, ginger candies, sprigs of sage poking from a water filled mason jar and a wooden bowl of dried lavender flowers. Further exploration of Allen House Denver revealed more bowls of lavender strategically placed throughout for finger pinching and oil releasing. Brian set a bowl on my nightstand and instructed me to rub its contents between my fingers before climbing into bed. Needless to say, that shit knocked me out.
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| I am more of a missionary with the lights dimmed kind of guy. A position that is missing from this glass. |
Day two started with yard time for four hounds followed by a swell haircut from Brittany at the hip Aveda salon that Brian recommended. Post trim, Brian readied a pair of bicycles for a lunchtime rendezvous with Sara Joy. I can now say that I peddled my chub through the streets of Denver on a one speed hipster beach cruiser. After lunch we stopped at a hound shop and were talked into buying what was described to us as the new rage for dog gnawing, ostrich knuckles.
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| Sir Winston Woo |
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| Lucile Vanderbilt |
Being the fancy fella that he is, Brian had a reading to attend for a production that he is managing. Sara Joy and I took this downtime as a chance to fit in some of my two-lane Denver attractions. Our first stop was a Bunion sized milk can, 2620 16th St, which housed a grand ice cream and gelato shop. I recommend sticking with tried and true malt and not ordering what Sara Joy described as a “meh” gelato. Don’t fret, the line moves much faster than you would ever anticipate.
No more than a tossed honey pot away at the Colorado Convention Center (700 14th St) lives a forty foot tall blue bear. He is sniffing around for Linda from Atlanta that he met at a heating and air conditioning convention last fall. They got their hump on after tossing back one too many at the Holiday Inn’s leisure lounge.
Who would have thought that our last stop would put us at the base of a larger than life George W lookalike in chaps? This tall drink of water used to protect a filling station and is now all by his lonesome at a trailer park entrance on Federal Boulevard. I really wanted there to be a telephone pole high horse peaking from behind the gas station across the street, but the only thing peaking at us was a hooker in a phone booth.
We returned home to another amazing meal prepared by chef Brian; a salad assembled from couscous, roasted eggplant and zucchini, boiled eggs, autumn greens, tomatoes and balsamic vinegar followed by tea and fresh fruit topped cheesecake that I bought from a mean lesbian earlier in the day.
I am not sure if I ever truly got used to the lack of oxygen at life on what felt like a mile high rock in the sky. As the trip progressed more symptoms joined the list of what could only be explained as side effects attributed to the altitude:
· Shortness of breath
· Random erections
· Minor headaches
· Metallic tasting saliva
· Affinity for hemp based fabrics
· General malaise
· Urge to punch pony and puppy faces
Next week I will cover my daytrip to the Rose Lady Shrine, Magic Town and explain why I no longer consume soy based products.
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