YMCA (pt. 5 of 10)
*Dear Reader,
My last post was in February 2025 and as of this writing it is now almost July. I know that’s too long, but perhaps you’ll cut me some slack, as I do have a pretty good reason: I was getting sober, which I am presently writing about and will publish on that subject very soon. In the meantime, for your summer reading enjoyment, I’m publishing a series of travel writings I made during a two-week RV trip with my wife and friends to the American southwest in August of 2023 that I originally posted on my social media accounts but have been asked to repost here. There’s a few references to my drinking, which obviously do not represent my present-day lifestyle, but that I left in for historical accuracy and for comedic and literary effect. I hope you enjoy reading these as much as I enjoyed living them, and then writing them.
YMCA
Aug. 14, 2023 (day six): Wakeeny to Denver’s drive had an electric undercurrent as we all anticipated the event that was the impetus for this whole endeavor. It was the day before the big day. The many rounds of Uno and Go Fish and the creation of more apocryphal verses to The Diarrhea Song could scarcely keep our minds settled and distracted from our destination. We stopped to see the world’s largest easel in Goodland, Kansas that boasted a decent facsimile of a Van Gogh and employed a disarmingly earnest and verbose visitor center attendant, who gave us all the history of the site and free bottles of water that we would soon need more than we had anticipated in the arid conditions of Colorado.
After 4+ hours of driving, we finally came upon the skyline of Denver and found ourselves Griswolding our tortoise-paced, late-20th century mothership through the streets of their downtown, to our astonished delight and to the ire of…whatever you call people from Denver. (Like we care, loudly swearing tank-top hipster guy on e-bike en route to legal cannabis dispensary!) Kelly had made the smart decision to rent a car in Denver to be dropped off in a couple days when we got to Santa Fe, so that we could zip around during our CO and NM stays in something that could exceed 40 mph and park in say…not a Wal-Mart. She and Sam jumped out of the Jamboree, literally into moving traffic to pick up the rental and we all convened, after a steep, engine-taxing climb to the Denver West KOA.
Our campsite had an absolutely dreamy panoramic view of the mountains overlooking Central City, and for a moment we couldn’t believe our luck. I texted my sister a photo of our site and she said “It looks like it would be a sticker”. She turned out to be right because the next morning we discovered fridge magnets in the camp store that had a photo of our specific site with the KOA logo on it. We had of course been advised to hydrate proficiently and mind ourselves for symptoms of early altitude acclimation, but it wasn’t until I realized how out of breath I was from the light exertion of settling up camp that I had the thought “ am I really that out of shape or is it the altitude? (Spoiler alert- it’s both!)
So I rested and took in the view for a while until we hit the town, the gals meeting up with friends for dinner and us fellas taking on Coors Field for a Colorado Rockies/Arizona Diamondbacks game. J. had secured amazing seats just behind home plate (it probably helped that the Rockies are in last place in their division and therefore aren’t packing the house at the present moment). I held my nose and paid the $35 for two tall-boy IPAs for Joe and I but I rationalized that a beer at the ballpark just tastes better. The first six innings were mostly uneventful for the home team, down by four runs and getting shut down by Arizona’s deep bullpen. But dramatically, the Rockies’ bats started cracking in the bottom of the eighth and all of a sudden the sleepy crowd came to life as their homeboys rallied to a 6-4 advantage. The three of us were root-root-rooting for the home team and got so swept up in the fervor that we ended up on the Jumbotron doing the YMCA, which I would probably never be caught doing while in my right mind but by this point , I was truly on a Rocky Mountain High and my give-a-f***s were nowhere to be seen.