Bum's Rush: Road Trip Journal Part X

After driving through the mountains of Montana and the plains of Wyoming and coming over the Rockies into Colorado we finally arrived in Denver.

And then the scum came out of the wood works. Instead of sad, abadoned buildings and ruined turn-of-the-century archicture, we have buildings full of cheap souveniers and ugly, modern buildings. Instead of wild antelope, we have guys barely playing guitar. Instead of a running stream we have sizzling summer heat and smoke. It's an uneven trade. What's more if that I wanted to see an ugly city, I'd just stay home. At least then I'd have my own pillow.

The worst of it came walking back from the Ship Tavern in the Brown Palace. There's a long promenade that runs all along 16th Street (or is it Avenue? I know Denver has both for some reason*). If you've ever seen the 3rd Street Promenade in Santa Monica, it's a bit like that, except lower rent. And it has two Corner Bakeries. It's also lousy with people who don't seem to have anything better to do than to stand in place, smoke, and spit, which is crazy because the public library isn't that far from where we are and outside it is hot.

Idaho didn't have a lot of people that were just standing around. Neither did Montana. I don't even think Wyoming had those people. I assume that they just freeze to death in that part of the country. Or they own property and just do that shit on their own time. Here in Denver it's a part of the local color.

As my dad and I were walking back to the hotel, we were paralleled by a group of, I don't know, vagrants? Not bums. Not hobos. Just people who, let's say, took less care in their

And we did what everyone on earth would do, which is ignore them and walk on by. What are we going to do, start a conversaiton with them? Ask about their musical influences? I know my dad isn't, that's for sure.

Then the guy takes it upon himself to be a smart-ass. He's going to right this wrong, apparently. "Excuse me, sir, could you please just ignore us?" he said in the tone that I imagine someone who believes they are owed something.

Dear Moocher: Being a passive-aggressive and rude to people who don't want to give you money for no reason makes you into an asshole.That sort of thing has also got to make the stationary beggars unhappy. Or at least feel a bit chagrined. Here comes some out of towner, pissing off possible donations and not even doing it right.

Not to say that we didn't run into people of all kinds on the trip. Most everyone was decent and helpful and accommodating. The jerks are the exceptions. The crappy things tend to shade everything else more than they should.

So, don't try to ruin my vacation, please. That's our job.

High Point of the Day: I don't remember. This whole entry is three or four days late. Let's just assume it was that massive seafood chowder I had at the Ship Tavern. Oh and the seafood pasta thing. My God that place was good.

Low Point of the Day: That bum.

*In Idaho I heard the line "I think it's on the corner of First and Second" and he wasn't a guy huffing glue.