A week after the ball, I flew to glorious, sunny--er, Denver. My cousin is a photographer, and at some point I can barely recall, I had promised to be at the opening of her first show. Keeping my word, I flew out to be there at her opening.
Now, I have technically been to Denver more times than I can recall. Each and every time I've flown to Kitt Peak observatory to work on a telescope, I've connected through Denver. It's even one of my favorite airports. This trip, however, marked the first time I've ever left the airport. I must say, the terminal is even better than the concourses.
Denver. What an interesting place. A city, to be sure, but not like New York is a city. It is half conservative republican cowboys, and half long-haired dirty hippies. And everyone, cowboys and hippies alike, smokes a lot of pot. Sort of a strange atmosphere, when you can walk down a crowded street filled with ten-gallon hats, and then step into an all-organic restaurant with local, um, art(?) filling every inch of wall space. The best part of the city? There's an enormous blue bear peering into the windows of the convention center. At least they have a sense of humor, right?
It was a good weekend, a very laid back weekend. Lots of quality time with one of my closest relatives.
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