When in Roam
February 5 — February 13: Denver, Round 2
Growing up in Queens, regardless of the sport we were playing (which always mapped to the professional sports season), we had do-overs. Did Mitch Seiler catch the ball inbounds between the two trees? Did Wayne Hochberg hit the ball past the second sewer for a home run? Do-over.
We called a do-over on Denver and Boulder. We liked the vibe there but couldn’t enjoy it due to my health-related issue, and it felt great to flex our spontaneity muscles!
We started by driving back from Boulder to Denver’s River North District aka RiNo. The good news was our third-floor one-bedroom was well-appointed, including a patio with a view of the Denver skyline and a separate workstation. The not-so-good news was that while there was street parking, there was no dedicated parking spot included. This is the 15th Airbnb we’ve stayed at, but this is the first time this issue had come up. Also, there was no elevator. I guess our being preoccupied for the previous week-and-a-half kept us from catching that?!
As a result, unpacking was both our aerobic and anaerobic exercise for the day. Took us six trips. Felt like we were doing the same set of reps at the gym (remember gyms?) for six cycles, without a trainer.
After that workout, we treated ourselves to a nice Italian dinner at Il Posto. This was the first time in a while that we were able to walk to dinner from our pad. Very civilized! We sat next to our friend the space heater in what had become familiar surroundings in Airbnb-land. Muraled warehouses and residential construction were springing up all around us. The air was infused with hip-hop grooves.
Carol chatted up a friendly, stylish, and heavily-tatted member of the wait staff who welcomed the opportunity to share that when she got tattooed, the pain was a welcome part of the process. She was raised Presbyterian and was educated at Catholic schools, but covered up her body art on her wedding day as not to offend her Jewish grandfather. Grandpa served in the Navy during the big war, and once he passed, she honored him by having Loose Lips Sink Ships tattooed in script on her right arm. All this before we ordered! Loved it!
We stair-mastered back to our digs, I programmed our streaming services, and tried to find something to watch that wasn’t Super Bowl-related. The best I could do was the Friends episode, The One with Phoebe’s Wedding, where she got hitched to Paul Rudd.
As a result of our previous stay in the mile-high city, I got to experience one of the recurring pleasures of the trip. Going to a new city or town where we had no frame of reference, and getting to the point where I knew the basics of where different neighborhoods, major thoroughfares, and points of interest were. This was that day in the RiNo Art District. The Saturday before Super Bowl Sunday.
We took a four-and-a-half-mile stroll around our neighborhood. Would have been four miles, if I hadn’t gotten cocky with directions. Waze has turned me into a village idiot in that regard.
Sure, Howie, blame an inanimate software app…
Along the way, we saw equal amounts of amazing street art, cool restaurants with outdoor seating, and various boutiques and gourmet food stores. Supermarket-wise though, the neighborhood was a desert. The nearest market was 0.8 mi. away. Just seemed like millennials and Gen Z’s didn’t cook that much. That suspicion was reinforced by the fact that at the majority of the Airbnbs we’ve stayed at, there’s been no dish rack. What’s up with that?
We went for an early dinner at Barcelona Wine Bar. Never heard of it before we dined at their Charlotte location last November. Turns out they had ten restaurants across the country, each with the same tapas and wine menu. We celebrated with my first glass of cab since my throat infection disappeared. Thank you very much!
We figured we’d get there before the crowds hit the streets, but to our surprise it seemed the locals had already pre-gamed and were out in force. We queried our waiter and he said that due to current COVID restrictions, restaurants and bars closed at 9:30 pm on Saturday nights. Ahhhh, now it made sense.
Back home, we watched a Somebody Feed Phil doubleheader — Nawlins and Lisbon. I just loved traveling with this guy vicariously. Felt like we’re cut from similar cloth, aside from his Everybody Loves Raymond-related $200M in the bank.
We watched SNL with Dan Levy and Phoebe Bridgers. The highlight for me was Phoebe’s trying to pull a Pete Townsend and break her guitar on an amp at the end of their second number. Neither device budged. Funny as hell. She was probably better off. I don’t think insurance would have covered the claim.
On Sunday, we moseyed out to the Denver Central Market on Larimer Street, one of those epicurean meccas that contained all your local food staples under one roof: your butcher, your baker, no candlestick maker. We went in search of the perfect sugar-free BBQ sauce for Carol to incorporate into her rotisserie-pulled-chicken-Super-Bowl-sliders, but alas, none were found. I waved at all of my favorite delicacies, and we left before I could jump over the display cases to reenact Goya’s painting Saturn Devouring His Son.
Then it was time for the big game, which wasn’t competitive. Side note, the Thursday prior, Andy Reid’s son/outside linebacker coach Britt Reid was involved in a car accident that left a five-year-old girl critically injured. That crash reminded me of another incident related to Reid and another of his sons back in 2012 when Andy was the head coach of the Philadelphia Eagles. Garrett had died from an accidental drug overdose during training camp. How could that not impact Coach Reid, the Chiefs, and their prep leading up to the game? Not that it would have made a substantive difference, but still very sad.
Thinking about Tom Brady after the win reminded me of a classic life question: the difference between liking something, and whether that something was good. For instance, I have never liked Brady for several reasons. Yet he has always been good, to say the least, and now is arguably the greatest quarterback of all-time. Conversely, I have always liked — and that’s an understatement — Vikings QB, Joe Kapp, my all-time favorite athlete. So much so that Carol superimposed my face on his Sports Illustrated cover head for my surprise birthday party one year. Joe was arguably not good for an extended period of time. unless you included his early stint in the Canadian Football League (CFL) where he was All-Canadian QB in ’63–64 and his BC Lions won the Grey Cup in 1964. In my mind, there’s a distinction between like and good. That’s all I’m sayin’.
I also thought about one Carly Helfand after the game. Her folks are friends of ours back in Wayne, NJ. Great peeps. We used to see Carly in synagogue at holiday services. As we became friendlier with her parents, we got to know her, mostly for bleeding NY Football Giant blue like her dad, Lonnie. Now, we know her as Tampa Bay Buccaneer scouting assistant! Congrats, Carly!
Monday felt like a typical workday, only we were doing it in Denver, Colorado. After three-plus months, it had become the norm, which felt kinda nice 😉.
Tuesday felt kinda nice, too, but for a different reason. We went to Red Rocks! It’s arguably one of the most distinctive concert venues in these United States. I’ve wanted to go there ever since I first cranked tunes up to ten on my AR-16 speakers! If this were an SAT question: playing a concert at Madison Square Garden is to playing a baseball game at Yankee Stadium, as playing a concert at Red Rocks is to playing a baseball game at either Wrigley or Fenway.
Feedback welcome!
Devon, a Red Rocks native, Army veteran, and photography student at Red Rock Community College, was our guide for the day. It was a group tour, but at 34 degrees on a weekday, Carol and I were the group. Sweet! We had him all to ourselves and didn’t have to be mindful of COVID-related group dynamics. We could pepper him with our questions and, just as importantly, get a local’s take on what it was like living in the area these days. He happened to be very COVID-conscious and wouldn’t lead groups larger than six people. He had a 95-year-old grandma that he was tight with and didn’t want the virus to get in the way of that!
We hiked the front end of a six-mile trail and gained 1.200 ft. in elevation. Couple that with being at an intersection of the Rockies and the Great Plains, and we were treated to numerous majestic views of sweeping vistas that alternated between a view of Denver 13 miles northeast of us, views of undulating hills that reminded me of northern California, and those dynamic Red F’in Rocks.
Turns out the amphitheater was built by the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) during FDR’s New Deal. Just about everybody including The Beatles and the Dead (20 times in 10 years) had played there. For proof, check out any number of great live recordings by Neil, U2, The Moody Blues, Dave Matthews Band, and Steve Martin among others. According to Devon the only supergroup not to grace the venue to date is The Stones.
As for the Red Rocks themselves, they are real, and they’re spectacular! Pushed up at a 30-degree angle by the tectonic plates below them, and then reddened by iron oxide the same way blood is when it hits the air, we’re talkin’ 300 ft. — 500 ft. massive slabs of stone that jut out in ways we weren’t used to seeing. And, because this area was submerged until relatively recently, these huge appendages sticking out of our planet were rounded and smooth in many spots, and gave off a friendlier, more pleasing vibe. Especially compared to New York’s massive man-made structures, which are typically at 90-degree angles unless it’s a Frank Gehry building.
The destination attracted some distinctive peeps, too. Looking down from the concession area atop that 10,000-seat amphitheater, where the stage was under construction prepping for a mid-April 2021 opening (good luck with that), a runner was navigating the steps repeatedly from the bottom to top, and others glided across the rocky terrain while navigating that aggressive ascent. But the piece de resistance was at the top of the park, which I shared on this Facebook live. There was a guy, replete with a walking stick and ascot/face covering, walking his…goat. I’m sorry, walking Mary! She let me pet her and bleated when I had no food in my hand. I replied to her that, “you’re lucky, because if I had any food, it probably would have been Skittles.” To which her owner replied, “She doesn’t eat sugar anyway.” No, I didn’t ask him his name. Falls under, don’t ask the question if you don’t want the answer. Just got that vibe, know what I mean?
As for historical context, John Brisben Walker, who marketed Cosmopolitan magazine and sold it to William Randolph Hearst in 1905, produced concerts there from 1906–1910 while branding the venue as Garden of the Titans to compete with Garden of the Gods an hour south in Colorado Springs. He presented mostly classical music concerts on a platform between the two rocks that now bookend the stage — Creation Rock and Ship Rock. Eventually, he sold the land to the city of Denver in 1927 for $54k. Fast forward to August 4th, 2015, when the site was deemed a national historic landmark by the National Parks Service. What took so long?
On Wednesday, we had an appointment with Dr. Geoffrey Ferril, a University of Colorado Health ENT. He confirmed that my peritonsillar abscess was gone and he didn’t find any underlying symptoms. Yay! As a preventive measure, he suggested that I flush my nose twice daily with saline solution. I was down with that and we stocked up. I’d highly recommend it for anyone else who has seasonal allergies or deals with a postnasal drip. Consider that an unpaid testimonial.
We drove to what was formerly known as the Northside aka LoHi (no idea how they came up with that acronym, if you do, lay it on me brotha/sista), to chow down with our friends, Francine and Hank, whom we met five years ago during our trip to Israel trip and hadn’t seen since. We ate at Avoca, a beautiful little restaurant whose food was as nice as its décor.
Fellow New Yorkers who’d spent a good amount of time in the Orlando, FL, area as well, they’re retired now, and found this area to be a great way to enjoy life for the same reasons others have extolled it. The weather’s great — 300 days of sun, and low humidity, which means that even if it’s cold, you don’t feel it in your bones, and if it snows, it looks great and dissipates quickly. The scenery is gorgeous, unless you can’t stand seeing vast areas of rolling hills with snowcapped mountaintops in the distance as soon as you travel ten minutes out of town. And, if you like the outdoors at all, there’s hiking, biking, schmiking, anything you want to do to pump the blood and smell some fresh air! Plus, there are six sports teams if you include soccer, and lacrosse (yes, throwing in those last two in was trying too hard, I agree). And, if you went 35 minutes northwest to Boulder, you could throw in the University of Colorado college town vibe, “Go Buffs!” Long story short, they were happy.
Some backstory now. As a yout, Hank slung hash at his family’s diner in the heart of Manhattan on Vanderbilt St. and 43rd St. That was before the Pan Am Building was erected on that site, which blocked out the sunlight that used to stream into Grand Central Terminal. He had a picture of him with Cleveland Browns Hall of Famer Lou Groza, and Gary Collins outside the joint.
Later on, he worked for Costco for several years and proceeded to tell us about it in the form of an unsolicited testimonial. As I’d spent 20+ years selling software and services into the Human Resource function of Fortune 2000 companies, whenever I’d heard a ringing endorsement for an employer, my ears perked up! Hank LOVED working at this American operator of wholesale clubs. He found it to be “a well-run business, whose values focused on treating their customers well, which required treating their employees well, and treating their vendors well.” I had never shopped there. I always imagined it being like the Flintstones shopping for food. Everything on Fred’s plate was bigger than he. I thought I’d have to put load-bearing beams into my pantry to contain all their oversized products. I envisioned keeping a gigantic container of Heinz upside down for sixteen years to get all the ketchup out of it. I was reminded of other friends who were raving fans as well, so I just might have to revisit my understanding once we settle somewhere.
On Thursday, I had the pleasure of grabbing a beverage with someone I hadn’t seen in five years. One of the best managers I’d ever worked with, Jim Pachak. He’s the man who hired me at Taleo, which was later acquired by Oracle. He’s a classic Midwesterner raised in Kansas City who’s resided in Denver with his family for 30 years.
First, he busted my chops in the best way possible for dressing like a Sherpa, huddled up in clothing heavier than my body weight, while he arrived in a flannel shirt and light winter jacket. Same ol’ Jim 😉.
Then, he extolled the virtues of this area. He kindly stated that it took a while to adjust to the altitude, due to low humidity and 300 days of sun. But no matter how the day may start, by midday, if it was 50 degrees, he could be hittin’ that little white ball wearing a shirt and maybe a vest. He went on to provide a lot of context about Denver and surrounding areas. Hopefully, we could put his insights to use over the next week-and-a-half while in Denver and Boulder.
Catching up with Jim reminded me of when I was a kid and listened to a song I liked on the radio. I’d take my allowance, walk down to Jamaica Avenue with Mitch Seiler and buy a 45, the single as we called it. The hit song was on the A side. The big surprise though was always the B side. Often, I liked that tune, too. It sounded similar to the A side, same voices and instruments, but it was different. That memory is an analogy for these meet-ups where I’ve reconnected with talented co-workers who I’d been through the trenches for and with. I’ve relished the opportunity to learn their personal backstories and map them to the business professional I’d known!
Chalk up another great conversation that was an hour-and-a-half-long, but felt like 45 minutes. Jim breezed out in his light jacket, and I trudged ahead looking like the Michelin tire guy.
On Friday, we drove an hour and ten minutes on I-25 S to Colorado Springs to check out the Air Force Academy, Garden of the Gods, the U.S. Olympic Training Center, and Pikes Peak. Mother Nature had some input, too. Not much, though, only nine degrees worth. As a result, we took a couple of pictures of signage, but aside from getting out of SC at the Garden of the Gods, that was about it. Here are the deets:
At the US Airforce Academy, we especially wanted to check out Cadet Chapel, but it was under construction and the campus was shut to visitors due to COVID. We chatted up the soldier manning the entrance and thanked him for his service. He was from Newark, we compared notes on that Marcus Samuelson restaurant next to NJPAC — Marcus B&P, but still no dice. Oh well…
Next was Garden of the Gods Park. The trip was worth it just to ride amongst those warm-colored towering craggy formations, jutting out of the ground and up to 300 feet high. I got out to snap some pics as did others, but there was no hiking to be had on this single-digit degree day.
Then we headed to Pikes Peak. It’s the highest summit of the southern Front Range of the Rockies. We just wanted to get close enough to see its 14,115-foot peak. Alas, cloud cover kept it veiled ;(. The mountain was named in honor of an American explorer and Jersey boy from Lamington (it’s just north of Route 78, exit 26), Zebulon Pike.
On the way back, we drove through town to the U.S. Olympic & Paralympic Training Center, which our bestie Rich Schaffer (Hello, Doctor!) reminded us was there. Upon arrival, the gates were locked and if there was anyone in the visitor booth we couldn’t see ’em, and hoped they had a heater!
For our last night in RiNo Art, we watched Quincy, a documentary by his daughter Rashida about Mr. Jones. Jake had recommended it to us, and we thought it was amazing. On it, they played a song that I loved back in the day, then forgot about, then remembered again, but hadn’t been able to find for 30 years. I don’t know if you’ll remember Betcha Wouldn’t Hurt Me or felt the same way about it, but it’s got my #1 rule for great music — a helluva groove!
Now onward to Boulder, Colorado — Round 2!
And, as always, questions, feedback, and recommendations are welcome. I consider these posts to be fluid documents that I reserve the right to update from time to time as I receive additional content.
Also — feel free to share, forward, tweet, post the link to this page, as we now have over 113 Rom-eos following these posts! Thank you from the bottom of my heart ❤
