people

While I was in Colorado, without phone reception (mostly) and without the usual distractions of everyday life, I found myself watching people more closely. Not in a creeper way, though; more of a prolonged observation. I guess the stark setting of the state made me more aware of the people around me. It seemed like everyone was exaggerated, to the point of becoming caricatures of themselves. There was the aging hippie at Fiddler's Green with the pretty face, bare feet, celebratory cigarette (she was there to see Aerosmith and ZZ Top - who wouldn't celebrate?), and crocheted shirt that probably showed too much skin but somehow looked completely natural on her. There was the tired but determined-looking World War II veteran on the airport shuttle, with his khaki cords, a heavy ring with two initials inscribed on it, and a weathered black Camel leather bag. There was the mournful, dark-eyed woman on the same shuttle ride, with an expensive gold cross at her throat and a regal, aquiline nose. There was the middle-aged rich woman on the very same shuttle (believe it or not) who prattled on at an obnoxious volume in her false aristocratic drawl, about everything from 'Daddy' to boat rides and hunting to imitation designer handbags to her genuine designer boots to how the standards of first-class travel have fallen considerably. There was the eternal free spirit chef at an organic diner outside of Nederland, who, gesturing with her be-ringed hands, described how she had lived in Florida, then New York, then Ward (in Colorado), and how she had left at least one ex-husband and a few kids in each. There was the smooth-talking, slightly sunburned barista in a Denver Starbucks who had experienced a long week of work, wanted to know if i was excited for the weekend, and then suavely asked me how I'd picked up an accent so quickly and what I did when I wasn't on vacation in Colorado (nice.). There was the Russian bartender who skillfully (and rather suspiciously) skirted telling us why she had moved out to Colorado between asking us incessantly if we wanted another drink and marching authoritatively around the bar. There was the friendly young girl with unmatched earrings in Nederland who had recently opened up the Buffalo Bill Confectionary, a coffee/candy shop based in one of Buffalo Bill's old railroad cars, who explained to us with a huge grin how she came to visit a friend and 'just kind of stayed'.

It was an interesting trip.