In the movie, Away We Go, John Krasinski and Maya Rudolph play probably the greatest couple of all time, looking for a place to rest their feet and where they can raise a child together, happily. In order to do that, they travel across the continent by plane, train and automobile to the far reaches of North America, hoping that the comforts and closeness of friends, family and mere acquaintances will provide them with the strength that they ultimately find within themselves. The poignant story, character development, and amazing soundtrack by Alexi Murdoch make this one of my favorite movies ever. Every time I watch it, it evokes a feeling of hopefulness and peace. One thing I didn't think it evoked was outright sobbing. Which is why I questioned whether this was the right movie to watch on my friend's last day of a spectacular weekend visit. I suppose no visit to Hotel Denver Omlette is complete without a good cry.
But the weekend was not all tears, or if it was, it was probably a result of the endless laughter the many fantastical events that happened this weekend created. Allow me to divulge.
On Friday, my friend, who I'll refer to from now on as K-Peezy, (she's a famous rapper in Atlanta) and I went one of the best brunch restaurants in Denver. Lucile's Creole Cafe is a New Orleans style restaurant that is known for two things. It's amazingly huge biscuits and the typically long waits in the Summer. Luckily, with this summer like weather we had over the weekend, and going on what should have been a work day (slash, I barely work), the wait was cut to nothing. We proceeded to try to self-assassinate ourselves through a diabetic-inducing intake of carbs, sugar, and alcohol. I call that combination, "Dream Death." Since we some how survived the assassination attempt, we decided to make good with our lives and re-purpose our mission to be healthy. But we faced many obstacles. First, at the peak of Red Rocks Amphitheatre, watching people do ungodly acts of exercise, while we were loudly panting just to get up the steps. If Esther was anywhere near, she'd have told us we "Needed some watah, cos we're already pantin'!" Then, at the steps of Mt. Saint Crimini or whatever place we were at, where the Russian in the track suit told us in the thickest of Russian KGB accents, "You must be very feeeet to climb to the top." Clearly he was casting all kinds of judgement at us, which was later proved to be accurate as I did not make it to the top. Although that was more a result of ice covered steps and slick shoes than a lack of ability! But perhaps the biggest deterrant to our new perspective came from a group of young gentlemen we met at the top of Lookout Mountain, by the grave site of Buffalo Bill. The exchange happened between some dude-bro's in a car at the top of lookout mountain, while we were peering over the edge nearby.
Warning: The following conversation is not suitable for the intelligent.
Dude-Bro (from his car): "Yo! How's the View????"
K-Peezy: It's Good!
Dude-Bro (getting out of his car with all his other dude-bros): What's over there?!
Me: Golden....you can see Coors Brewery from here....
Dude-Bro: Aww Fuck! Coors sucks!!! (not the reaction i was expecting...)
K-Peezy: Where y'all from?
Dude-Bro: I'm from California, some guys are from Texas....ugh whatever...it's complicated (did not seem that complicated....) Where are you guys from?
K-Peezy: He's local, and I'm from Alabama
Dude-Bro: Oh shit! (calling out to other dude-bro's) She's from ALABAMA! You guys SUCKED this year!
K-Peezy: Yeah but we were great when we beat Texas in the National Championship!
Dude-Bro: EAT A DICK I WAS THERE!
Now let's pause to examine this for a second. A man, who we just just met, at the top of a mountain, meeting a girl for the first time, upon hearing that she's from Alabama proceeds to tell her how bad her school was this year, and then when she defends it, tells her to, "Eat a dick." Seriously. EAT. A. DICK. It was the single weirdest...and greatest, moment of all time.
Later in the convo the dude-bro asked where the actual Buffalo Bill grave site was...I pointed across the small parking lot and said, right over there...there's also good views of Denver to which he responded, "Aww FUCK! Let's Leave!!" Spectacular.
That was Friday. On Saturday, we celebrated the upcoming MLK day in a very traditional way by doing the ol' I Have a Dream MLK Booze Heavy Brewery Hoppin' Dog Adoptin' for Equality Adventure. Unfortunately, no dogs were adopted, which is a blow to racial equality probably. I came close to a dog named Sadie (she used to be my homeboy's lady), but unfortunately, after a few positive moments in meeting my good friend Tuxxie, she went straight for the jugular, and thus ended her career as my canine companion. Maybe I'll have better luck with these foster dogs, who are bred to not be all crazy like the shelter pups. Saturday evening was spent continuing on the drinking frenzy at Denver Beer Co., by far my favorite brewery in Denver. At the DBC, we also played a twist on a game which I have now dubbed Ring of Jenga Fire. It's basically just the tense anticipation of Ring of Fire (Circle of Death) with the....tense anticipation of Jenga.
Sunday was kept relatively low key, watching the Broncos game, and the following game, which was called the Richard Sherman rant with a side of playoff football. I think the post game interview with Erin Andrews was nothing short of amazing.
The Ever Eloquent Richard Sherman
On Monday, we drove down south near Colorado Springs to take the old fashioned cog railway to the top of Pike's Peak. Unfortunately, due to God's wrath, the trip to the summit was closed because of high winds, but we still were able to make the trip up to about 11,500 feet. Here's a few pictures of the trip.
Afterwards we took a quick trip into Garden of the Gods, because it is the GARDEN. OF THE GODS.
Overall, not a bad way to spend a Monday. But as the weekend came to a close, I don't know if it was the movie we were watching, the wine we were drinking, or the knowledge that the weekend was already over that brought my friend to tears, but even the greatest of parties must eventually end, and as I dropped off said comrade at the airport at 4:45 AM, I said, most nostalgically, the only thing I could say to encapsulate our adventure.
"Eat a dick! I was there!"