I’ve had seven bicycles stolen or dismantled for parts here in River North (RiNo) Denver. Last night, someone broke into a bunch of cars in the gated lot. Not mine. I’m carless. My Mini Cooper was totaled after a recent hail storm.
It felt good to not have something that can be stolen for once.
Today the power went out. The parking gate was locked shut for two hours. Many people in our community wanted to leave but couldn’t. I’m sure that’s a metaphor for something. Construction continues. I know that’s a metaphor for something. Construction on the building across the street is well into its second year. Road construction has been nonstop since January. I wake each day to the sound of heavy machinery. Drills and compactors and pavers. A daily six a.m. wakeup call.
Three cars attempted to parallel park in the massive space available between two SUVs. They gave up. If I hadn’t been on the phone with a client, I would have run outside to park their cars for them. Parallel parking is a lost art.
It was quiet here. Once. Strange and wonderful, the silence. A glorious lot of nothing where Beryl’s Beer now stands. An over-shoulder glance got you the Denver city skyline. Any number of places to park.
Two weeks ago, my friend bought a bottle of craft whiskey from a guy at Deerhammer Distillery in Buena Vista, Colorado. As we cashed out, we complimented the guy. Great whiskey. Booming business. Buena Vista is alive and kicking. The guy said that if you’re not growing, you’re dying.
I guess it’s true.