somewhere in the middle of nowhere

For a pierced, purple-haired freakazoid, I’ve done… well, not by any stretch of the imagination a lot of business travel, but certainly some, which probably qualifies as more than you’d expect.

By and large, I haven’t minded it much. Sure, there was the time I got stuck at the Days Inn Milpitas (“Not the armpit of silicon valley, but you can smell it from here!”), but all it took to escape from that was 10 minutes on my laptop screaming “someone, anyone, let me crash on your couch!” and lo 2 hours later I was enjoying excellent company. Other than that: someone else pays for me to fly somewhere? Cool! Fun!

I have learned something important, yet horribly obvious tonight: yeah, of course business travel is fun when you keep getting sent, over and over again, to the places where half your friends live. All of those salarymen shuttling back and forth and bitching about it? Well, actually they might be onto something.

Which is not to say that Denver isn’t kinda pretty or that I wasn’t able to find anything decent to eat tonight — it is and Sonadas is pretty decent sushi for a random walk-in restaurant nowhere near an ocean — but there’s something ineffably depressing about wandering around a rapidly emptying-out downtown area, watching the local couples dart in and out of bars, realizing that just about every likely scenario for generating any fun this evening is basically logistically impossible.

I know, I know, world’s smallest violin, playing just for me.

Oh, one small amusing story: per ‘s recommendation, I ducked into The Tattered Cover, which is in fact a pretty kickass bookstore. As it happened, Senator Gary Hart was giving a reading tonight from his new book. The reading was in a big room in back, and I was too intent on finding reading material and then finding dinner to even consider stopping in to listen, but as I wandered past it, I was treated to a somewhat unexpected bit of shouting:

You must not listen to this man! He is not what he seems! We need to return to a constitutional government!
I expected some wild-eyed Michigan Milita type to be escorted out by the secret service immediately, but all that happened was that a few seconds later, a man who looked nothing so much like a gay Chelsea jogger stalked out of the reading room with an annoyed scowl on his face, and the reading continued without missing a beat.

More later.

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