Well, i followed thru with my plan. I woke up friday, got dressed, made my way to a rooftop downtown, and said my goodbyes. But when i stepped to the edge, i couldn't jump. As badly as i wanted to, i couldnt help but think of how bad it would hurt, even if only for a moment. So i came down.
I couldnt go back though. There really is nothing good for me in san diego, and i had to escape. Mexico was no longer an option, because i knew i wouldnt be able to stop thinking about Ali. Taking that into consideration, i did the only thing i could think of: went to the airport and booked a seat on the next flight out of california. My destination: denver colorado. There was an hour between my buying the ticket and boarding time, which in and of itself is pretty insignificant, though i would like to remember the young couple who shared the booze they couldnt finish before their boarding started.
It was my first time flying as an adult. The last time being when i was about 11. Pretty uneventful, though the takeoff was fun. Sadly i wasnt able to score a window seat.
Getting off the plane was a bit much. Going from a very compact space into the huge terminal at denver international was for sure a sensory shock. Not to mention the fact that, besides the fact i knew i had to leave the airport and somehow make my way into the city, i was clueless as to where to go next. Eventually, i did make it outside, and thats when the regret of not having just jumped off that rooftop hit me harder than the fall would have. It wasnt any kind of epiphany or anything so spectacular, but the simple fact that its winter. In denver. And i was not dressed properly. A single layer and a light cotton sweatshirt vs. freezing temperatures is not a battle easily won. Still, i pressed on.
Following the signs i found my way to the area where the shuttles and busses were. Alongside these were a train, which i found out was headed for downtown, and i promptly hopped on. After a ride that felt like alot longer than it probably was, i got off at union station and began my search for a place to stay the night. This search was made all the more difficult due to the fact that my phone was dead. No ones ever mentioned the fact the airplanes apparently dont have usb ports to charge devices. Something even greyhound buses have been able to apply to their fleet of buses.
Anyway, this is where the universe decided to start fucking with me again. Though it was still a little while before the connection would be made;i was walking through what i know now to be the downtown denver mall, shortly after closing, looking for a hotel. Smoking a cigarette, i was naturally approached by someone hard up for a nicotine fix. This time it was an older gentleman, apparently intoxicated. This made so by his overt friendliness. Not to mention the fact he gave zero fucks about wearing a mask or shaking my hand. In his outgoing disposition, i was able to get a small glimpse into the mans life. I wish i had taken the time to write this down earlier, as i dont remember his name, but he was an lakotan(i think) indian warrior from south dakota. As well as a devil dog, with 29 confirmed kills. Sadly, he was seemingly as lost as i was and also asked for direction, which i wasnt able to give due to my phone being dead.
After a bit more walking, i finally ran into one of my people who kinda told me how to get to the part of the hood with the "cheap" hotels. I put cheap in qoutations because $70 is *not* cheap. Less expensive than the places downtown ($129 for one night, and im guessing a $50-100 deposit), but not cheap. Once i made it to said part of town is the other half of that connection i was talking about.
There were plenty of hotels up and down the avenue. A few had lights on in the offices, but where i ended up: a hotel called the awahnee. My spelling is probably incorrect, but an indian named hotel. Im loath to say it was indian themed because besides the name and a bust of an indian head in the office, it was just a basic old motel. Still, it was a sign. How on the first steps of what i hope is a new chapter in my life i shared a moment with an old indian guy, then end up in an indian named hotel..? Maybe the sign was blank. Like it wasnt meant to say or tell me anything. Just a coincidence.
Or, maybe its meant to tell me something. What that something is, im not sure yet. Maybe i should set my sights to living with native/real americans. Maybe i should go pursure a degree in shamanology and follow in the footsteps of terrance mckenna. I dont know. At least not yet.
