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.

Internetless in Montana: Road Trip Journal Part VI

Our streak of decent hotels was broken last night. God, was it ever. Out of desperation or fear or some other base emotion, my dad settled on a place called the "Big Sky Inn." I cannot implore you enough: Do not spend the night here.

Everything was wrong with it. Cheap towels. Cheap beds (which I'm pretty sure had a plastic guard on them, you know, the kind they put on the beds of kids who piss themselves). Pilows with less give than the average cardboard box.Then we couldn't even get to sleep properly because we'd be woken up by a train high balling it on the tracks across from us.

Sometimes you gotta eat some mud to make the custard stand out. That's a saying right? I don't know. I'm running off of not a lot of sleep and a minor hangover. I'm satisfied enough with just being able to form words.

We're headed into Wyoming. Tomorrow (or today or the next day, depending on when this gets posted) we'll be in Cody. With any luck we'll be staying at the Irma, which, for those keeping score, was established, like the rest of this town by Will Bill Cody.

Until them, I'm just going to try to hold this meal down and forget that I ever hard the name of the Big Sky Inn.

High Point of the Day: Dad managed to snag a pair of antelope heads for a god price at a place in Billings. That's all wel and good for him, but on the plus side, that means I get an antelope in my room. Finally. We also hit up a bar, the New Atlas, which was pretty cool. It had not only one old-fashioned back bar, but two-- that and a ton of taxidermy. Not a bad place to drink away the fear of falling asleep in a place not nice enough to be an Indian burial ground.

Low Point of the Day: I've already been over this. Now let us never speak of that place again.

Waldoism of the Day: “Their slogan should be 'Did you die at the Big Sky.'”

This is What It's All About

Every little girl dreams of hitting the rails and 'boin' it up, like all good Christians without a full set of adult teeth.

Homeless Man's Mom

I drew this on a lark last night because my friend had a fairly funny Facebook status. She said she looked like the mom of a homeless guy. So, taking that as a prompt, I followed it up with this drawing.