Four days ago, I embarked on a nine hour journey from Pocatello to Farmington, NM to visit my studly manfriend Jamie. Now, I’m sitting in my bed after driving nine more hours back home, feeling like I’m peeling away from the sheets, and I can only say one thing: Iamsohappy.
Jame and I are currently navigating the Sea of Long Distance, and so far, so bueno, except for the whole “I like everything a whole lot more when he’s around” thing. We hadn’t seen each other for about five weeks, so in order to get the most out of our four (two-point-five?) days, we planned a bunch of things.
Luckily, Jame found 100 mystery dollars in his car this past week, so we went right ahead and booked a room in the Travelodge in beautiful Durango, CO. It’s a bit of a ritzy-hippy, mountain, Old West-esque tourist town, but it has way more open bars than Farmington, so we were super excited to go.
So excited that we forgot which place we were staying. Walking into the Travelodge lobby, we asked the heavily pierced desk dude, “Uhm, we THINK we have a reservation…?” Turns out, we did, FTW. And within moments, we were back out the door on the Durango free trolley/bus thing heading back to the main drag.
Jame showed me some awesome photography and art galleries, and I realized I want so many things I will never have money for. We split a chimichanga at The Office, a fancy little restaurant attached to the historic Strater Hotel. We managed to order food from the wrong waiter, effectively pissing off our real waitress, but since the whole meal was $9, I don’t think she cared about us anyway. We also got to play with a rotary phone! If you don’t think pretending to receive a call for your date on a really old phone ISN’T fun, you don’t know what you’re missing.
Then the real fun started. We hustled back to the hotel, got all gussied up and hit the town, red paint in hand. Bar #1 was a bust; cowboy-booted 20-somethings who all know each other pantomiming over AC-DC. Blargh! Bar #2 was a huge win, however. The scene was this: a one-man-band from Chicago playing classic tunes and hits from today while couples in their 40s and 50s busted up the dance floor and a packed bar watched. There was also a strange grey-bearded man ala Cornerstone’s Dr. Z who was attempting to dance with every available woman in sight. Luckily, Jamie was taken. By me. (Zing! Again, nine hour drive.)
We grabbed drinks lightning fast, and watched in awe at the unabashed rug cutting going on. Jame screams to me over the din, “I like the old people crowd better than the young people crowd!” I pinch myself, because I really must be dreaming. Before you can say “$2.50 PBR,” he’s yanking me out to the center of the crowd and we’re immediate fools. Maybe it was the Red Bull, maybe it was the jar of rum, but something hit Jamie Hale and he took me with him. If you know me, you know that I’m a wonderful dancer with no shortage of embarrassing white person moves or lack of shame. I brought them all in full force.
You know how sometimes, when you’re with somebody, you get the feeling like you’re the only people in the world, even though you’re in the middle of a crowded room? Well that’s how it felt on that dance floor. Within five minutes, our flailing arms and jigging legs managed to clear, quite literally, everyone else off the dance floor. It was magical. I was in heaven. The kind of heaven where a bunch of people stare at you and laugh.
The next morning, we went to breakfast at this amazing place, College Drive Cafe, and drooled over the best Eggs Benedict the world has ever known. Green chile and ham Hollandaise? Yes please. Yes yes yes please.
Then we followed the beating of some African drums over to a little parking lot market thing, where an actual local African drum and dance troupe was performing. That was sweet and made me want to join an African dance troupe real bad. We ALSO got free neurological diagnoses that told us we both have severe health problems and need to see a chiropractor ASAP, brightening up the mood.
On the drive back, we stopped at a local green chile farm and picked up some awesome stuff. I got spicy pickled garlic (a childhood throwback) and green chile powder. Super exciting culinary times ahead.
The rest of the four days were full of movies, food, TV, food, me throwing a temper tantrum over not being able to win at Super Smash Bros., Blake’s Lota Burger, rock climbing, picture taking, booze and brats, The Daily Times, a high school football homecoming, the creation of a brand new dessert liquor beverage, stomping on sidewalk berries, banana bandanas and writing down a TON of great and hilarious ideas.
For a moment, it was summer, we were in College Park, running through sprinklers on the M, stealing stop signs and not getting caught this time. Figuring out how to make pretty decent food and even better memories. Never not laughing. Never without the idea that this is life and it’s worth making it awesome. Always dancing.
I can’t tell you how wonderful of a time I truly had.