Greetings from the frigid mountain region located somewhere in the middle part of the country!
Yesterday, I spent much of the day trying to get here (here is Breckenridge, Colorado). It was quite the adventure! The beer guy and I got to the airport about an hour before our scheduled flight time of 10:45. A couple of minutes before we arrived, I got a text that our flight was delayed by an hour. This meant that we would have <20 minutes to make our connection in Salt Lake City.
By the time we got into the airport, we couldn’t even check in at the kiosk because the flight was late enough that there was no way to make the connection and we needed to rebook. What made that extra exciting is that we were a party of five. (But not like the show. Probably. I’ve never seen it, but I know that at least two of us are not orphans.)
The ticket agent was so patient as we tried to figure out the flight changes plus rebooking the shuttle that was to take us from the airport to Breckenridge. Two of our party had already gotten tickets and gone through security before the flight changes happened.
But finally, we were rebooked! Our flight, originally scheduled for the aforementioned 10:45 was now leaving at 1 pm and going through Seattle. Soooo, with time to kill in the airport, we did what any group of people heading to a beer festival in Colorado would do. We had drinks.
I had a French 79th, because of course I did. In addition to the gin and bubbles, it also had St. Germaine and rhubarb bitters. Also – next project is homemade rhubarb bitters.
We did eventually make it to Denver about three hours after originally scheduled, but about 40 minutes earlier than anticipated with the change in plans. After some scrambling and then a mad dash up an escalator carrying our bags, we made the 7 pm shuttle. (How do people breathe here? Every time I go up a slight incline, I feel like I need a lie down to recover.)
There were a lot of people squished into the shuttle, and I ended up situated in the exact right spot that every time we hit a bump, a seatbelt connector got really, really fresh with me. After 2+ hours of that, praying that my phone wouldn’t die because there was no way I was going to be able to survive that drive if I wasn’t distracted by werewolves, we finally made it.
It was shortly after getting into our condo that it occurred to my stomach that it hadn’t had more than an airline cookie and a bag of chips since about 8 am that morning.
We headed out into the very, very cold and very, very thin night air to track down sustenance.
There were nachos. And burgers. And beer.
The way back to the condo was a gradual uphill for 1/3 of a mile. So that was fun. (We saw a fox, though!)
This morning, I woke up to this:
So, yeah. That’s a bit colder than this lowland Portlander is used to. (It’s up to 9* now, which according to my weather app is “too fucking cold to think.”)
We finally ventured out about 11 in search of coffee and food. I tried to convince the beer guy that as the male, it was his duty to go out and fetch his mate food to show he cared for her (see above werewolf novel). He said he subscribed to the lion model, so we were at an impasse and both left the warmth and safety of the den.
It might be cold, but it is really pretty here. I’m not grabbing any of the realty fliers I’ve seen, but I’m not regretting this is much as I was when I saw that -12* this morning.
I’m currently holed up and refusing to leave a coffee shop, because I am a delicate flower who might freeze (even with two pairs of socks, my winter running tights under my jeans, and a thank top, long-sleeved shirt, formal hoodie, and winter coat, not to mention my scarf, gloves, and viking hat).
It’s really kind of fun, though…I like looking at the snow and mountains through a coffee shop window, and I do enjoy traveling with the beer guy, even if he isn’t a proper werewolf.
Ahhh….Oz
My plan for the next couple of days is to relax, to read, to write, and of course, to drink some beer…this is not a bad way to start off my year of me redux.
Happy 2017!
