On Wednesday I flew off to NAHBS looking terribly respectable without a single bike on me -- they all took the Amtrak. Apparently they and their chaperone had a high old time drinking moonshine in the coach car, while I was squeezed next to a panicky gentleman who kept pointing out how wiggly the airplane wing was. I love flying, actually, and tried to suppress my excitement -- mountains!!-- while the poor sod wheezed and muttered.
"Welcome to Denver, where the sun shines 300 days of the year!" said the pilot, as the plane rattled down through a blizzard.
Westerners are appallingly, scarily, nice. Like, a guy tried to (non-creepily) carry my backpack to the shuttle bus, and a woman not only prevented me from winding up at Pikes Peak, but drew me an actually accurate map so I could get on the next bus. Having only lived in New York and Philadelphia, this made me jumpy. Also, cowboy boots and hats are worn un-ironically.
Then I ran around on the wide sidewalks looking for regional peculiarities, but all I saw was a lot of chain stores and lovely, powdery snow. And bracingly thin air.
The next day, amazingly, the bikes arrived!
That Amtrak lady was extraordinarily nice. She said it was learned behavior because she is from New Jersey.
Thursday was devoted to setting up. It went pretty smoothly, with just myself and my brilliant but distractible boss sticking bikes and stands together. Appallingly nice local volunteers kept turning up and offering their services. One guy quietly put a bike together, non-creepily offered to drive me to a party in Fort Collins, and when I declined, non-ironically put on his cowboy hat and wandered off to help someone else. Maybe I won't get quite so affronted the next time someone says East Coasters are cold and suspicious.
I also kept getting distracted by things like this:
The shiniest!
And this:
Made by a yacht maker.... obviously.
But the booth went up and it looked like this:
And immediately got messy, but it looks fine here...
I met up with an old chum at a place called the Bar Bar, which is a bookstore/coffeeshop/bar/music venue and gave me hope that Denver wasn't just chain stores after all (for reference, picture the upstairs of Tattooed Mom's, but grosser, with books). In fact, I got the impression that Denver is pretty cool if you know where to look and avoid the downtown, which feels like a giant mall. And it is surrounded by the rockies, which dredge up every restless impulse in my soul and make me wish 1) I'd thought to bring hiking boots and 2) was not a wuss.
And I am out of steam so I'll finish recapping some other day.
Oh right, COME TO MY OPENING! This Friday. Some portraits. Be there. Moral support. I need it.
Also, after the mountains, Philadelphia REALLY feels like a swamp.
I miss snow.
-Isis
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