Once, that's an anomaly.
For the first time in living memory I couldn't use the wi-fi at a Starbucks, the one in Estes Park across from the library, near the big intersection. That's how I wound up walking down the cold street and popping into the bar on the corner, the only warm place along the street. Nice---refurbished after the floods because it was three-feet deep through the front door.
"Everything up to that level had to be totally torn out," said Jake, the bartender.
"Looks nice now," I said, admiring the new wood floors and paneling.
The bar---an 11-shelf design, five cases of three like at Aloft, but two left stark and bare against the wood paneling, and two other shelves removed altogether from the wall.
Same number of whiskeys and speciality spirits, but lighter on the vodka selection. Vodka, that's where you can really pad out the shelves. Looks nice back-lit too.
The next day I'm down in Fort Collins and use the wi-fi fine in my hotel, and also the Starbucks by the movie theater (which was packed---had to wait for a table!). Successful in both cases.
But now I'm at the other Starbucks on Harmony and the attwifi is not connecting at all. I check it with my cell phone. It too is unable to obtain an IP address from the attwifi router.
Twice, both in the same area of the state---a well-to-do, Internet-enabled, highly average-educated, tech commuter, fitness-trendy, super yuppie family refugee area of the state.
This is how things fall apart. Or least how I find a new office.
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