I made it home safely and I appear to be none the worse for wear. I was less tired from the trip back than the trip out, but was just as anxious to get out of the car. Matt and Heather flew back to San Francisco from Denver and were happy to not have to drive the rest of the way. I don’t blame them.
I should clear up a couple of things from the last message I sent. First of all, I used the term biannual to describe my sinus issues. Wiktionary says that the term means twice every year, but is often confused with biennial, which means every two years. So it is better understood to use the term semiannual, which also means twice a year. I stand corrected. Who said English is an easy language?
Secondly, I talked about wanting to wake up in Park City, Utah and see the mountains. I expected them to be beautiful, but we had driven into town in the dark, so really didn’t see much. In comparing Park City with Lake Placid, the downtown area goes to Park City. But the beauty of the surrounding mountains, hands down, goes to Lake Placid. The mountains around Park City don’t have many trees and, at this time of the year, are brown and not very attractive. Both were home to the Winter Olympics, so they have much to offer as far as winter sports are concerned.
Lastly, Matt and Heather had gone to the pool and sauna at the Holiday Inn Express we stayed at. They said I would have loved it. The pool had a set of rules that topped my cottage rules. We’ve all seen the signs that say, DON”T PEE IN THE POOL, but these went farther, and mostly included bodily functions. They couldn’t remember them all but they included, DON’T ENTER THE POOL IF YOU ARE HAVING DIARRHEA; IF YOU CHANGE A BABY’S DIAPERS BE SURE TO WASH THE BABY’S BOTTOM AND YOUR HANDS BEFORE GETTING BACK IN THE POOL; DON’T USE THE POOL IF YOU ARE INCONTINENT; BABIES AND INCONTINENT ADULTS MUST WEAR PLASTIC LINED DIAPERS WITH PLASTIC LINED UNDERWEAR, and on and on.
Other than the sinus thing, we had a great time in the Denver area. We stopped in Fort Collins at New Belgium Brewing Company, makers of Fat Tire Amber Ale, did a brewery tour where they served samples at three locations, and finished with a couple more samples in their tour lounge. Near the end of the tour, we went down a circular slide from the second floor to the first. It was small and you were supposed to keep your feet from touching the sides to slow you down. I didn’t, and my foot hit the side twice, slowing my descent. The woman after me pointed her toes directly toward the heavens, squealed continuously, and didn’t slow down at all. I think I have a butt print on my bald spot, but I can’t see it to check it out. She was from Wisconsin, so if it’s a big W, let’s say it stands for Walker and not rehash the details of how I got it.
I really felt crappy that evening, so we didn’t stay out long, and I didn’t get carried away sampling beers from the area. Matt said he would try to ply me with beer, and get me to tell them how I “lost” my hat. I felt bad enough that my defenses were down, and I told Matt and Heather on the way back to the hotel. I made them promise not to tell anyone, so we’ll see how true they are to their word. All three of us were laughing so hard we had tears rolling down our faces.
The drive over the next two days was pretty much uneventful. Surprisingly, I only noticed a couple of people who did stupid things driving that could have resulted badly and they both happened in Illinois, right after I crossed the Mississippi River. I was using my cruise control and was coming up behind a semi. I checked my mirrors and a couple of cars were passing, so I continued behind the semi getting closer and closer. Just then, the lead car passing pulled in between me and the semi and hit his brakes. I had to hit my brakes, check the mirrors, check my blind spot, and pull over into the passing lane, all within a second or so, to keep from hitting his little BMW. He immediately took the exit that he wanted. Why did he feel he had to pass me when he knew he wanted to get off the expressway? Apparently it was his Alpha Male testosterone kicking in. I’m sure his passenger, young enough to be his daughter, was impressed.
The second one was a car in the center of three lanes. It hit its brakes and instantly went from 65 to 30 in fairly heavy traffic. They wanted to exit and hadn’t thought far enough ahead to move over gradually. This was a twenty something woman with, you guessed it, blond hair. As the chaos subsided, she moved over in front of a couple more cars and took the exit. I was happy she was off my road, but felt sorry for the cars on the road she terrorized next. Luckily I had seen this move often in Florida, when geezers would stop in the middle of the road, not knowing where to go. I know, I know…it’s wrong to compare blond girls with seniors having dementia. My apologies to the seniors.
Just (Resting Before I Start Raking Leaves At The Cottage) Jack