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After deciding that a tropical vacation would be fun, my wife and I pulled out the ol’ checkbook and calculator to determine what our budget would allow. After a few minutes, the checkbook burst out laughing while the calculator openly mocked us. So instead of an expensive trip to the southern tropics, we compromised by driving around southern Colorado.
We actually began our trip in Malaysia, where I sold one of my kidneys on the black market to pay for enough gas to get us to at least Durango. I wasn’t sure how we would refuel from there, especially since my wife was completely close-minded to the option of prostitution as a means of acquiring gas money.
Our first stop was at the famous hot springs pool in Ouray. We grabbed our suits and sauntered across the parking lot, where we were assaulted by roving pack of homeless people brandishing 2-by-4s.
OK, that last part isn’t true (they used a 2-by-6), but I know how boring it can be to hear people’s vacation stories, so I had to embellish a bit.
From Ouray we headed over Red Mountain Pass, where, on June 4, it snowed the
entire way up. This is a dangerous pass with slick roads and steep thousand-foot drop-offs. The state of Colorado has a yearly budget of $18 billion, but apparently spending a couple hundred dollars on guardrails is an unworthy extravagance.
Our first night was spent in beautiful Durango. My main memory of this town will be of room 303 in the scenic General Palmer Hotel, where I spent most of the morning in a scenic bathroom, in front of a scenic toilet, vomiting from a case of food poising. So let’s just quickly skip over that gross portion of the trip and focus on the bird I killed with my car.
You could argue the bird committed suicide by flying into the front of my car. Either way, it wasn’t a big deal until we got out to refuel in Salida and found the bird stuck in the grill (true story), with his head facing forward like some sort of sick hood ornament. It was as if a taxidermist had professionally mounted him.
I didn’t want to pull the bird out with my bare hands, and the manager at the nearby Wendy’s was adamant in his refusal to let me borrow the salad bar tongs, so we left the poor sparrow stuck there. We named him Howard, and he remained ensconced in the grill the entire 871 miles of our trip.
Next stop: Royal Gorge. At 1,052 feet above the Arkansas River, this famous bridge sways as you tip-toe across the old wooden planks. This leads us to:
TRAVELING TIP #1: When your wife — who is deathly afraid of heights — has reluctantly agreed to walk across the highest suspension bridge in the world, you should NOT attempt to make any lame jokes about faulty construction.
That afternoon, we decided to use our stimulus checks to help stimulate the revenue of Cripple Creek casinos. And because we planned a long hard day of hiking Pike’s Peak the next morning, we went to bed early, around 2 a.m., when the casinos closed and security had to physically pry us away from the poker table.
A crisp blue sky greeted us early the next morn, as we packed our gear and mentally prepared ourselves for our daunting assault on mighty Pike’s Peak. Hours later — after sore muscles and extreme fatigue — I’m proud to say that we conquered the mountain, reaching the summit at approximately 3 p.m. Some might describe it less as “conquering the mountain” and more like “riding the cog railway up,” but really, what’s the difference? The point is that we stood on top of the 14,110-foot mountain, which is something that many of the early pioneers could NOT do. That’s because they couldn’t afford the ticket price. Those early settlers often traveled in covered wagons with signs reading, “Pike’s Peak or Bust,” but thanks to $35 cog railway ticket prices, we were able to do both.
So Marie and Howard and I headed back West, where our dwindling resources meant we had to find cheap accommodations in an inexpensive town. We settled on Aspen.
Fortunately in Aspen, the panhandlers there give YOU money, so we were able to buy enough gas to get home, as we looked forward to our next journey. Marie wants to go somewhere warmer. I want to go to the mountains.
Howard wants to go to Vegas.
Steve can be reached at beauregardsteve@hotmail.com.
We actually began our trip in Malaysia, where I sold one of my kidneys on the black market to pay for enough gas to get us to at least Durango. I wasn’t sure how we would refuel from there, especially since my wife was completely close-minded to the option of prostitution as a means of acquiring gas money.
Our first stop was at the famous hot springs pool in Ouray. We grabbed our suits and sauntered across the parking lot, where we were assaulted by roving pack of homeless people brandishing 2-by-4s.
OK, that last part isn’t true (they used a 2-by-6), but I know how boring it can be to hear people’s vacation stories, so I had to embellish a bit.
From Ouray we headed over Red Mountain Pass, where, on June 4, it snowed the
entire way up. This is a dangerous pass with slick roads and steep thousand-foot drop-offs. The state of Colorado has a yearly budget of $18 billion, but apparently spending a couple hundred dollars on guardrails is an unworthy extravagance.
Our first night was spent in beautiful Durango. My main memory of this town will be of room 303 in the scenic General Palmer Hotel, where I spent most of the morning in a scenic bathroom, in front of a scenic toilet, vomiting from a case of food poising. So let’s just quickly skip over that gross portion of the trip and focus on the bird I killed with my car.
You could argue the bird committed suicide by flying into the front of my car. Either way, it wasn’t a big deal until we got out to refuel in Salida and found the bird stuck in the grill (true story), with his head facing forward like some sort of sick hood ornament. It was as if a taxidermist had professionally mounted him.
I didn’t want to pull the bird out with my bare hands, and the manager at the nearby Wendy’s was adamant in his refusal to let me borrow the salad bar tongs, so we left the poor sparrow stuck there. We named him Howard, and he remained ensconced in the grill the entire 871 miles of our trip.
Next stop: Royal Gorge. At 1,052 feet above the Arkansas River, this famous bridge sways as you tip-toe across the old wooden planks. This leads us to:
TRAVELING TIP #1: When your wife — who is deathly afraid of heights — has reluctantly agreed to walk across the highest suspension bridge in the world, you should NOT attempt to make any lame jokes about faulty construction.
That afternoon, we decided to use our stimulus checks to help stimulate the revenue of Cripple Creek casinos. And because we planned a long hard day of hiking Pike’s Peak the next morning, we went to bed early, around 2 a.m., when the casinos closed and security had to physically pry us away from the poker table.
A crisp blue sky greeted us early the next morn, as we packed our gear and mentally prepared ourselves for our daunting assault on mighty Pike’s Peak. Hours later — after sore muscles and extreme fatigue — I’m proud to say that we conquered the mountain, reaching the summit at approximately 3 p.m. Some might describe it less as “conquering the mountain” and more like “riding the cog railway up,” but really, what’s the difference? The point is that we stood on top of the 14,110-foot mountain, which is something that many of the early pioneers could NOT do. That’s because they couldn’t afford the ticket price. Those early settlers often traveled in covered wagons with signs reading, “Pike’s Peak or Bust,” but thanks to $35 cog railway ticket prices, we were able to do both.
So Marie and Howard and I headed back West, where our dwindling resources meant we had to find cheap accommodations in an inexpensive town. We settled on Aspen.
Fortunately in Aspen, the panhandlers there give YOU money, so we were able to buy enough gas to get home, as we looked forward to our next journey. Marie wants to go somewhere warmer. I want to go to the mountains.
Howard wants to go to Vegas.
Steve can be reached at beauregardsteve@hotmail.com.
