Last night was the night of the Aurora over Colorado. Denver was clear, but there had been weather along the tops of the Rockies all day. At night the winds were picking up and cluttering the sky with snow blown down from the Continental Divide. In the morning, it was like a translucent cloud reaching down from the valleys around Moraine Park. There would be little point in going into the park that day, even for a quick pop-in.
My hotel was along the lake---the reservoir in the lower valley. The best rooms looked out over the lake and towards Longs Peak. It was low season, and had plenty of availability, but the woman at the front desk did not offer to upgrade me to the better side of the hotel. A classy place would have done that.
The hotel was the fourth one in a row in Colorado with a bar. This one had live music, a local band playing oldies, and a half dozen women and a few men dancing to it.
The bottles behind the bar were cluttered, unorganized. Rum and gin all
mixed together. Lots and lots of bottled beer displayed on the self---such a low profit margin
on those. A measly selection on tap.
A ordered a rib-eye and a vodka martini straight-up with a twist. The young kid bartender who came out to the little table repeated it back to me with earnestness. I felt like I was quizzing him. His supervisor showed him how to make it, and verifty the aroma. Then he reminded himself at the last minute to put it on a proper serving tray to bring it to me. All the mechanicals are down. Lots of promise there.
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