When in Roam
January 27 — February 5: Denver/Boulder Pt 1
Leaving Durango, we spent the morning packing up in nine-degree weather. As I’m one of those guys who is in a constant state of perspiration, I made the colossal mistake of just wearing two layers of dri-fit and a wool knit hat while completing that task. This came back to haunt me a little further on down the road…
The streets were bone dry and we had a spectacular, albeit long, hall from Durango to Denver. One of the highlights was traveling on US-160 E through the twists, turns, and elevation that accompanied Wolf Creek Pass, in particular, and the San Juan National Forest, in general, before heading north on US Hwy 285. Due to heavy snowfall, this area wasn’t passable previously, which led us to spend an extra night in Durango. At the summit, elevation was 10.870 ft. We passed a parking area where tens of snowmobilers were makin’ tracks. One guy I spied was taking a break and having a smoke. Would have been a great cigarette commercial 60 years ago!
In Denver, our Modern Riverfront Park Loft was a spacious one-bedroom with an industrial vibe. It offered a poured concrete floor, exposed HVAC, plush leather seating, a beautiful blond wood kitchen/bar area, and a gorgeous western view of the sun as it set over the Rockies, Mile High Stadium, Ball Arena, and Elitch Gardens Amusement Park.
By the time we settled in it was late. We noticed Menya Ramen & Poke across the street from our pad, so we ordered take-out. I went down and out to pick it up, and learned that they had a second location. Due to both user error and a not-so-intuitive UI (user interface), that’s where our order was — one mile away. It was a carrot in front of the donkey situation. Nothin’ like food as motivation for a little power walk!
We chowed down to The Lars Affair episode of The Mary Tyler Moore Show in memory of Cloris Leachman, who had just passed away. It was the episode where Cloris’ character Phyllis’ husband Lars cheated on her with Betty White’s character. I kept hearing horses whinny in my head whenever someone mentioned Phyllis by name.
The next day we set out to explore our environs. We walked a mile to check out Denver’s 16th Street Mall by day. It seemed like a town center and had your usual suspects — Apple Store, Cheesecake Factory, etc. We were surprised by the amount of:
- Guys wearing their masks, but under their noses (they wouldn’t wear their briefs that way)
- Homeless people walking the street, seemingly to keep warm. Felt like we were extras in a Walking Dead episode. We’ve seen homelessness in most of the cities we’ve traveled to, aside from Santa Fe. We’re the richest nation in the world and we can’t figure that out. So sad and frustrating.
Then we did a logistical about-face and headed to the REI flagship store. On the way, we saw a paddleboarder honing his skill in whitewater under a bridge in the middle of town. It was as if he was a living testimonial for the store itself. Speaking of, it was a great (both large and terrific) space, replete with a three-story climbing wall! We explored and purchased gloves and gaiters to prep us for the upcoming stops we were planning in Wyoming and South Dakota.
Back at the ranch, I started to feel a little soreness when I swallowed. Uh oh. I suspected that packing up Sweet Chariot in nine-degree weather yesterday morning, and walking a mile for ramen in 19 -degree weather late last night, both a mile or more in altitude, hadn’t helped.
The issue became more pronounced following my bi-weekly/monthly Zoom call with the FF (Fantastic Four), my childhood friends mentioned in previous posts: Howard Hesh Hoffman, Tom Aff Afflerbach, and Pete The Captain Marchelos. As per usual, we caught up on life and solved the world’s problems. I gargled post-call, had some pineapple chicken tacos with the missus, then hit the hay around nine-ish, hoping that I’d wake up with my physical malady in the rear-view mirror.
There were certain things unique to living a mile-high that you couldn’t account for until you were living in that environment. For instance, tire pressure. I awoke to an email from Subaru’s StarLink in-vehicle notification system that identified low tire pressure. As I perceived that Sweet Chariot probably wasn’t the only car that had this issue, we scouted for gas stations that provided air but couldn’t find any. And I couldn’t find an app that identified gas stations with working air pumps either — that faint sound you may hear might be opportunity knocking, if you’re an app developer.
We ended up at Groove Subaru, where the mechanic was kind enough to recommend and set the tire pressure up to 36 lbs., ’cause that’s what you do when you’re a mile high. We shared our travail regarding finding an air pump and he shook his head sideways and said, “Denver is a tough city.” I asked for an example and he said the roads are in bad shape, but to me, his words felt more like foreshadow…
Our stay was over and we checked into a different apartment in the same building, advertised as Modern Downtown Loft for the rest of our week in Denver.
My sore throat had gotten worse. It hurt to swallow. I couldn’t schedule any in-person ENT appointments and I wasn’t aware of any camera wand accessory that I could shove down my throat on a Zoom call with a doctor. I reached out to my primary physician in NJ. They had my history and were best-suited to prescribe a course of action, in this case, an antibiotic. That didn’t affect any change, so the next day they added a steroid. The good news, all those kinks in my lower back and hip vanished into thin air. The not-so-good news, it did diddly squat to reduce the symptoms in my throat.
We went for a walk to get some fresh air. Having walked southeast to check out the 16th St. Mall, northwest to REI, and with a patio view of the southwest that faced the aforementioned Rockies and entertainment venues, we sauntered northeast to Coors Field, home of the Colorado Rockies. Perhaps my throat issue was part mind-over-matter? If so, not much would make me happier than the promise of spring, which equates to baseball in my mind. Even on this last day in January.
Approaching the ballpark, it had that romanticized look of a bygone era. The welcoming and friendly feel of brick and wrought iron. It even had the obligatory statue of a ballplayer in front of the stadium entrance.
Note: you can tell that an organization has had only a modicum of success when their statued athlete is The Player. Not a typo. A generic baseball player. They’ve been around since ’93 and couldn’t find one player to enshrine? They should give it up for Larry Walker, their only Hall of Famer. The statue was erected in 2005 and that was Booger’s last year in the bigs (yes, that’s his nickname, I don’t know the origin story but I perceive its mucus-related). Get the sculptor back, give the bronze a headectomy, and call it a day!
Next, we walked by Union Station, which from the exterior looked great. Bright modern signage that could be seen from blocks away. Easy access to the tracks. Clean, with many plazas, eateries, and gathering spots on all sides. Lots of couples, friends, and singles, enjoying a sunny day in the low 50s. About 70% of the folks that weren’t dining wore masks, and there was a lot of space, with no large crowds. Carol was here about five years ago for a National Patient Advocate Foundation training, and she didn’t recall any of this construction. Seemed like this area had really transformed since then.
This transit hub in the LoDo section of town was only a third of a mile away from our Airbnb. We got back and I still wasn’t feeling any better so we reached back out to our doctor in New Jersey. Carol spoke to her. By now it was hard for me to talk and my miming was rusty. Seemed the only other thing I could do at that point was go to an Emergency Room.
On one hand, gulp.
On the other hand, a quality healthcare system was a paramount factor in our deciding where to live. After all, what do you call the person that passes all their medical examinations but finishes last in their class? Doctor.
No healthcare network that I know of would have given us a tour of their facility and staff if we were healthy, and heck, we’ve done just about everything else we can during COVID. What better way to check out the quality of a hospital than to go to them for service?
We did some research (U.S. News and World Report rated them #1 in Denver) and elected the University of Colorado Hospital (UC Hospital) in Aurora, Colorado, approximately 20 miles from where we were staying in Denver. I had a rapid strep test and x-rays taken of my throat. How long do you think that would have taken you where you live? If I was in the NY metro area, I’d say four-and-a-half to eight-and-a-half hours. At UC, the total round-trip including travel was…two-and-a-half hours. I’d never had a better experience in an Emergency Room. Dr. Perman, Nurse Practitioner Wise, and our patient contact Marian, were all pleasant, compassionate, attentive, and informative. Their diagnosis was pharyngitis and suggested I give the meds some more time to kick in.
Going into the hospital, we had visions of me having to stay overnight, Carol having to pack and check out of our current Airbnb, and having to check into our new one, all by her lonesome. She’d done an amazing job taking care of me, and my men were doing the same remotely. Spence reached out to his friends in Denver. He asked for referrals, researched doctors and additional housing options, if necessary. Jake provided gobs of moral support as well. I’m a lucky guy who’s extremely fortunate to have this team as my nuclear family.
If only I felt better the next morning. Truth be told, I felt a little worse. Oy. I decided to play indoors.
After dinner, we checked out the Black-ish spinoff, Grown-ish, but after two episodes we had our Usual Suspects scenario. What’s that you ask?
Twenty years ago, when cable was a thing, we decided to watch that great move while Carol’s folks were visiting us. I got hooked while they all fell asleep (it was genetic). They woke-up 20 minutes later and asked what they missed. I could either bring them up to speed and lose the flow, or continue watching, but they would lose context. Frankly, I don’t remember what I did. In any case, the experience wasn’t as fulfilling for them, even after I filled in the blanks afterwards. It was a case of too little too late. It was a lose-lose scenario. Did it bother me back then? A little. Does it bother me now? Nope. It’s become a classic scenario, where I just smile and chuckle a little. Suffice to say that when we rate movies, it’s how many ZZZZs do we give it. No Zs is a perfect score! It’s one of those little wrinkles that make a life. If that’s our biggest problem we’re doin’ just fine.
The next day, we checked outta Modern Downtown Loft. The place had good bones, the bathroom — especially the showerhead — was clutch. The king-sized bed mattress and pillows were also on point. But it felt like the owner hadn’t maintained some little things. Two of the lights in the living room didn’t work. We could only get the major streaming services on the monitor. No network, cable, or ability to add apps, e.g., YouTubeTV, so no live stations. By sunset, sitting in the dark, and with no access to the real world on a screen bigger than my palm, I felt like we were living in a monastery.
We took US-36 W 25 miles northwest out to the Residence Inn on Canyon Boulevard in Boulder, Colorado. A relatively new facility with a great layout. Despite that, my throat kept pleading for attention. It was getting harder to swallow and when the discomfort increased to a seven out of ten by late afternoon, it was time to pay another visit to the emergency room at UC Health in Aurora.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t a repeat of our visit two nights earlier. This experience felt like a slow-motion car wreck. I had to pull out all the stops to keep the ball rolling. After waiting an hour for a CT-scan, I stood outside of my curtained area in my gown and socks just staring at the nurses’ station for five minutes trying to make eye contact with anyone so I could get an ETA on when I’d have my closeup. Eventually, my nurse and I locked eyes, she walked over, smiled patiently, and informed me that there were 80 people backed up in Radiology, so she didn’t know how long it would be before I got scanned. She’d see what she could do, and I thanked her in advance.
Results identified an abscess on the right side of my throat. An ENT specialist would be seeing me shortly. All of a sudden I felt like Dustin Hoffman in Marathon Man, waiting for Laurence Olivier to enter the ringed curtain that was my room.
The good news — the ENT resident did a great job of accessing the situation. The not-so-good news — she was still developing some of the finer points of her craft, for instance, how to deftly inject a numbing agent into various locations in a throat without imitating a porcupine. Or, how to ensure that when you insert a needle into an abscess to remove pus at the bottom of someone’s throat, that specific area is numb. I started to feel like I being just a little violated physically, and not in complete control of my body. I experienced a twinge of nausea and my legs started to twitch a bit. I guess while I was envisioning Marathon Man, she was streaming Nurse Ratched’s origin story.
Note: I realize as I write this that you probably weren’t expecting this for content today. Sorry, but thanks if you’re staying with it. Just about done with this part, and there is a happy ending😊
I raised my hand. She stopped and said, “Looks like you’re vasovagaling a little, do you want me to lower the lights?” I responded by nodding my head in a swaying diagonal direction like a broken bobblehead which implied…whatever, I’m not completely cognizant right now. I just felt a sharp object perforate a part of my body that has never been touched by a pointy instrument before.
She waited a few minutes and asked me if I was up for another round, as there was just “a little more stuff” down there. I assumed that was the medical terminology. I asked her if she didn’t go back to the well, if the meds would clear up the rest of it. She said absolutely. I became Roberto Duran at the end of his second fight with Sugar Ray Leonard. “No mas.”
She left. Insert mic drop here. The attending physician entered, and suggested I/we stay until dawn for observation. I bartered for painkillers and she responded affirmatively to close the deal.
While I nodded out to remove myself from the physical situation, my bride, who was by my side during that entire ordeal, was left to use the foot of my bed as an ottoman. Per the previous Usual Suspects anecdote, one of her superpowers is that she can fall asleep at almost any time in any position.
We awoke around 5 am, and I literally felt like a new man. It was the first time in six days that I didn’t have to play charades to communicate! I felt like one of the actors on those great Progressive ads where folks become their parents. I had a huge backlog of dad-joke quota to get out of me, and the attending nurses and physicians were more than compliant.
We got back to our temporary world headquarters just before dawn. I laid low for the rest of the day/night, aside from connecting with my sistas and my boys — which included Will, to allay any concerns, and listen to his voice of experience, as he’d gone through a similar scenario.
The next day I rejoined the land of the living but took it slow. We drove a mile east to the Pearl Street Mall, your classic, relatively upscale outdoor mall in a college town — the University of Colorado, aka CU, “Go Buffs!” It offered your typical mix of hi-end, luxury outerwear outlets, and CU swag stores. We had a great lunch of Peruvian Chicken Bowls at Next Door’s outdoor heated picnic tables. We met Floyd, a Great Dane/Mastiff mix that was charcoal grey with spots. He was 16-months-old, so he wasn’t named as a political tribute, and his owner didn’t seem of age to reference the Andy Griffith Show or Mayberry RFD. I asked if he was still growing, and she just shrugged her shoulders with a nervous smile. I was ready to hop on him and roll back east, but the heavy drool factor would have been an issue.
We strolled to the Silver Vines Winery around the corner and met Julianne, their sommelier, who was dressed for the slopes. We asked how business was, and she said she moved to Boulder from south Florida six months ago and was just happy to have a job. She loved being in town, and was remiss that she had to put her backcountry equipment away for the season due to recent avalanches (one of the pleasures of this trip was hearing things in day-to-day conversation that we’d never heard before — like that)! We procured a bottle of Chardonnay for my bride, and Julianne invited us back to share some vino on their patio. As we lost a week in the area due to my throat, we thought about extending our stay, in which case we’d probs take her up on it!
We walked the town and soaked up its history. Boulder was established in 1859 about 11 years into the Gold Rush. Surrounded by nearby majestic peaks, and with pockets of higher-end housing, it continued to attract folks based on dinero. Plus, it has that college town vibe. Hmmm….
We traveled 35 miles south to The Columbine Memorial where that senseless school shooting and attempted bombing occurred on April 20, 1999. The memorial is located in Clement Park, which is a quarter-mile away from the school. It honors the 12 students and one teacher who were murdered, as well as the injured victims, survivors, and rescuers who were affected by the massacre.
It felt incredibly appropriate to be there on February 4th. That week, February 1st — 7th, was National Gun Violence Survivor Week and I am a Gun Violence Survivor. That week was selected specifically because by the second week in February, the United States has had more deaths by guns than the second most- developed country has had in an entire year. Grrrrhhh.
Reading the tributes to each of the students and the teacher, as well as the reflections by the countless other students who were injured, and their parents, brought me right back to my own experience.
Since Columbine, we’ve had Sandy Hook, Parkland, and countless other mass shootings. But did you know that these incidents account for only 1% of the annual gun homicides in our country? On average 100 people each day are killed by senseless gun violence. Hundreds more are critically injured. These daily deaths by gunfire are reported on our local news as regularly as the weather and sports. We’ve become desensitized to the issue.
Certainly, COVID is our number one public health crisis, but during COVID, the factors that lead to gun violence, isolation, frustration, depression, have been exacerbated as well. This is a public health crisis, too.
Note: If you care to explore this further, you can view my Facebook Live post from when we were on-site at Columbine, read my previous post regarding National Gun Violence Survivor Week, go to www.momsdemandaction.org for more info, or reach out to me directly.
From there, it was home to a wonderful birthday Zoom celebration for a wonderful friend featuring www.BarNoneGames.com, followed by the Somebody Feed Phil: New York City episode. Boy, am I looking forward to the next time we’re able to dine indoors at a favorite restaurant back there!
By then it was time to get out of town. Considering that the majority of our time in Denver and Boulder was a washout, we decided to revisit both cities in good health. Why not? We could do whatever we want 😉. The world (or the 48 contiguous states, at least), was our oyster!
Onward — or should I say, backward — to Denver and Boulder (again)!
