Leomange in Denver, part 1 (the trip)

the night before was long, and the sleep was short. the justification was that the missed sleep could be made up for on the plane.

I awoke with pain between the ears. I had to get moving so I could leave home to return to my old home and stay for a week, only to return home once more. Shower, coffee, pack the last bits, play the tune I figured out earlier in the week one more time on guitar, and try not to forget anything.

I got to the bus stop and saw a spent banana peel. I could really use my last banana right about now, but it's still on the fridge. It'll still be on the fridge when I get home, though a bit crispier and quite a bit darker. Shoot.

Heard an altercation between two people with differing views on whether or not one should be allowed to park in front of a driveway. The one in the wrong escalated the exchange to a shouted "fuck you!" There was a bit more, but it didn't come to blows.

Rode the bus, got off the bus, transferred to the Max ("Lightrail" to the Portland-lingo-impaired).

As I was boarding the Max, I walked in front of a homeless guy who had some words to say. Eventually I turned to see that apparently he was talking to me. I didn't get every word, but as it turns out, he thinks I'm a "four-eyed motherfucker." Fair enough. I told him I was sorry he felt that way and got on the train...

By the time I got to the airport, fatigue was second only to headache in my feelings. I checked in and bought a sandwich, banana (could've, should've, would've been a redundant purchase!), and a coffee. I ate and felt better, then went to security. Apparently coffee is still on the list of no-no's in the airport security game. Downed as much as I could before going through security, but most of the coffee was wasted. When I reached my gate I streched out over four seats and read my magazine. Eventually the headache was kickin', so I picked up some Advil. I got back to the gate and they were boarding my plane.

I shared my row with Amelia, a student from Mexico who's working on her degree in saving a small part of the world. We talked about art and culture and what brought us both to the current moment. She must be over ten years younger than I, but she's far more travelled. I was about to say more experienced, but that would be an unfair deprecation of my experience. Mine may not be quite as varied, but it's just as valid. But asides aside.

I said goodbye to her at baggage claim, and said it was nice to have met her. And it was. Those who've seen (or read) Fight Club know the concept of single serving friends. I mean no disrespect calling her such, but I think that's the case.

Dinner was had at Watercourse with my mother and brothers. The restaurant moved, and they gussied up the place and raised their prices, but at least the food was still delicious. Though I miss the old and funky. It's much more Denver now, as, I guess, it used to be more Portland... though I hadn't seen it that way before.

I definitely think my mother is crazy, but I love her anyway, in spite of, and because of that. And I was struck by how similar I am to my brothers (or they are to me... perspective is a slippery thing as the youngest). When you live so close together, you focus on the differences. When you go away for a while, the similarities are much more pronounced.

Now I sit here alone in my mother's apartment, and it's time for bed. It's been a long day--please forgive any errors my usual proofreading would have caught. I'm too tired to polish this one...