Denver Bicycle Cafe

Mike, my bike, and tools...beautiful tools.

It’s been quite awhile since I’ve written so I figured the best way to jump back in the saddle is to write about some of the things I love: beer, bikes, and coffee. What better place to talk about than Denver Bicycle Cafe!

It’s become my new obsession. Seriously.

The concept is beautiful in it’s simplicity. Beer. Bicycles. Coffee. They’re open from 6am – 8pm except for Thursday through Saturday which is 6am – 9pm. Which means, on your way to work you can stop in for coffee and get your flat tire fixed so you can bike the rest of the way. OR on your way back from work, you can grab a beer and have the bike mechanic do that much needed tune up. For a classy broad like me, such service is paramount.

The beer: it’s all Colorado, baby! Oh yeah!! They have 6 taps that rotate, which means you never quite know when a different beer is going on. The other option is cans. Yep, cans. Colorado cans. Avery, Boulder Beer, New Belgium, Oskar Blues, Steamworks, Ska, Upslope, and Wynkoop. They are all here. It makes my beer nipples perk up with excitement! If beer isn’t your fancy, they have wine too.

The coffee and tea: If you haven’t guessed, it’s Colorado again! Pablo’s coffee beans and Wystone’s Tea. If you don’t know Pablo’s, then you are definitely missing out. Wystone’s is a new company to Denver but their teas smell so amazing. I know a thing or two about herbs…and these peeps are the real deal. The Earl Grey and chamomile make my knees weak.

The bicycles: besides the fact that you can get a tune up, ladies, the bike mechanic is pretty cute. I’m just saying! Mike is the Yoda of bikes. Guys, you can totally geek out with him on bikes of all kinds. Mike has been screwing around with bikes ever since he was a kid. He’s been a certified mechanic for 5 years now but has many more years of professionally working on bicycles. His favorite bike company: Surly.

The food: tasty and local. The pie (honestly, in the right mood it could be considered foreplay, at least for me…) and the burritos are mad tasty. There’s usually an assortment of bagels and tamales along with big pretzels for those beer drinkers. If all you want are some chips and salsa, they can fill that need too! None of that sounds good? Then you can order food from Pasquini’s and they’ll deliver it to you in the cafe.

The atmosphere: exposed brick, wood, metal and good lighting. You can sit at the bar, on the couches, at your own table, or at the community table. The employees are super friendly and the music isn’t annoyingly loud. You can actually have a conversation without yelling or feeling bad that you’re disturbing the people staring at their laptops. Right now, there’s seems to be alot of locals coming in but I have a feeling once the summer rolls around, this place is going to be packed with bicyclists of all sorts especially on the outdoor patio. It’s only a block away from the bike lane on 16th Avenue so it makes for a great pit stop.

Whether you’re hopping off the #20 east bound bus, riding your bicycle, walking by, or even driving, you need to check this place out.

Cheers!!

http://www.denverbicyclecafe.com

The Halloween Debacle

Halloween? Oh, I do this just for fun...

Note: I am an un-trained professional and you definitely should not try this at home.

Halloween is my favorite holiday. I get dressed up and get crazy at whatever party/club that lets me and my cohorts in. This year was a special year. I dressed very steampunk/Moulin Rouge with a silver mask. AND I had a VIP ticket for the Artists Bacchanal at the Redline Gallery the Friday before Halloween.

Now, at that moment in time, I was texting back and forth with Schuyler. I met him the week before after going to the symphony. He seemed interested in me but hadn’t put out an offer for a date after a week. He seemed nice enough and he is my type of addiction: blonde hair, blue eyes, fair skin. I decided I was only going to let so many more days of texting happen before giving up the idea of a date.

So…Friday night comes along. I get all tarted up. Phillip, the best partner in crime, joins me for a first drink of the night (6:30pm). We head down to Beatrice and Woodsley to get our drink on with a Manhattan for him and a Hendrix and tonic for me. He voices he wished he had a ticket to the Artists Bacchanal. Being the evil kid that I am, I text my friend who offered the VIP ticket to me with the “hint hint nudge nudge” if there’s an extra ticket I know someone who wants it. Within 5 minutes, SCORE!! We guzzle our drinks and head to his house so he can put a tux on and grab his mask.

We arrive at the Artists Bacchanal and start off with a Moscow mule. Which quickly turns into 2. After a bit of elbow rubbing and a Ballet Nouveau Colorado performance, I decide to start drinking some honey wine from Dithyramb Winery. Yeah…gin, vodka, and now honey wine. Can you see where this is going? The elbow rubbing continues along with consumption of some food…oh wait…I didn’t eat dinner. I’ll tell you now, hors d’oeuvres do not make a good dinner for a night of drinking. Glass #2 of honey wine…glass #3…I think there was a glass #4 but I know I didn’t finish it if I actually had it. This is because the party changed venues.

Not the Bacchanal’s location, just my personal party. The crew of us at the Bacchanal went our separate ways and I ended up catching a ride to Stoney’s since it’s close to Bar Standard (which was to be my last location of the evening to catch Phillip and a ride to his couch). This is where things get a bit blurry.

Upon arrival at Stoney’s, my friend and I promptly order water. It felt like 5 minutes later but we order a round of beer (yup, add one more to the mix) and she goes outside to smoke. I stay inside where it’s warm and being left to my own devices start to drunk text. Schuyler answers me and the next thing I know he’s at the bar ordering a drink. From looking at my texts the morning after, he was playing poker and decided to meet me. After the initial beer, he asks what I want to do. The Forbidden Plant Party at Bar Standard of course!

If you don’t know what the Forbbiden Plant Party is, it’s a Burner Halloween party that is off the hook fun. Crazy decorations, amazing DJs, and wicked fun people. It’s hard to not have a good time.

I don’t remember walking there but I do remember being inside the party. I was playing with someone’s laser gun…gin and tonic…multiple friends come up to say hi…another gin and tonic…the music was really good…there goes Phillip with Chelese…another gin and tonic…was that a jellyfish that just walked by that knew my name?…

LIGHTS! It’s 2am and all the revelers are being kicked out of the club. Somehow Phillip finds Schuyler and I and we make our way towards the door and coat check. As we all spill out of the club, I remember saying something, gods only know what to Schuyler, give him a kiss on the check and I think even a *pat pat* (that’s a bad sign from me…it’s the “oh dear, you’re so cute but you have no clue”) and then proceed to wander down the street with Phillip to catch a cab. How we arrived back at his place is a mystery to me.

The next morning: Phillip rehashes my behavior and all the interesting things I said in the cab and in his car on the way to his place. Note: alcohol really IS truth serum along with “get naked” juice. From what I gather, I was blackout drunk when we arrived at Phillip’s yet speaking without a slur and confessing to to bunch of things. Then I proceeded to strip down to my under-roos (not unusual for me especially after a few drinks but I do vaguely remember taking my corset off in the living room) and crawl around on the floor (definitely unusual) until he persuades me to go to sleep. Phillip gets perfect gentleman of the year.

It’s been about a month and a half since I’ve heard from Schuyler. I had written him off as one of the many men I’ve scared and/or scarred. He texted me the other day with “Sexy woman”. Um yeah…no. He doesn’t know it yet but he’s about to get the “WTF…are you for real?” response. Seriously, I’m a classy broad with standards. That behavior just won’t do.

Things I’ve Learned

So it’s the last night, I’m sitting at the Czech Inn again (happy!!!) and thinking about the past 15 days. What have I learned?
A. Not everyone is on the same trip and that’s ok. We all are looking for different things in life, so why wouldn’t we be looking for different things when on holiday? S’all good!
B. Every city has a different feel and it affects everyone differently. Praha was relaxed and groovy. Paris was up tight yet had lots of freedoms.
C. I LOVE Praha.
D. Making friends is easy once you hang out and relax. Unless you’re in Paris and then every guy just wants to shag you. Eww.
E. Having a good travel companion is HIGHLY important (that is if you choose to have one). Easy going and being able to laugh are important.
F. It’s ok to separate from your travel companion for chances of time. Seriously, it’s like being married. Time apart can be really awesome especially if you have different travel ideas.
G. Make sure you buy the proper metro tickets. Fines seriously suck.
H. Don’t try to make your last night the best night ever. If it’s meant to happen, it will. But it’s also good to chill and be ready for traveling the next day.
I. You might meet someone you didn’t expect and they might just sweep you off your feet. Literally. Tee-hee!
So yeah, it was a great trip with ups and downs, crazy Aussies, dancing Frenchmen, hot Germans, lots of awesome food, good pivo and wine, but most of all the experience of a lifetime.
I’ll write more once I’m rested and back in the States. Writing on my iPhone is a serious pain in the ass.
Live fiercely! Love fiercely!

Too Many Days

The idea of writing everyday or every other seemed like a good idea. Oddly, too much happens to do that. It’s like trying to write about sex when your shagging in a elevator.

Sleep? We’re in Prague!

For the past two nights, Amber and I have been burning more than just the midnight oil. Last night’s bedtime: 3:00am. Night before last: 5:30am (for me, Amber’s was 7am) Prague doesn’t really sleep and neither have we.
Friday night: Sitting outside the Czech Inn having a smoky treat, these two guys start talking to me and ask if Amber and I would like to go to Acropolis Club. They try to ply us with Brazilian guys going to the club too (one was French, the other an American mutt) which just made us laugh. I mean, really, like Brazilians make EVERY adventure better? Our clubbing group became much larger with 2 French girls and 2 Canadians, making total of 10 strangers on a search for beer, dancing, and fun. Amber almost dropped out to go back to Cross Club but I convinced her that we could club hop. Prague doesn’t sleep, so why not?
Thibault, the Frenchman, was leading our pack with Amber speaking French with him. Omar…well he was definitely hitting on me but 19 year olds definitely do not float my boat. Our little group navigates the streets around the tv tower(this is a weird tower. Huge with big ass babies crawling all over it). Once there, we descend into the club, obtain drinks, and check the place out. Two small rooms (small for a club)hold a reggae band and a DJ. I’m a bit of a techno snob but eventually I get dancing and Thibault proves to be more than a white man wiggle kind of guy. As the night progresses, we get so into dancing together that we end up unintentionally clearing a space on the floor and receive claps and hoots and hollers of approval. Wow! I don’t blush often, but I think that was one of those moments.
Amber had wanted to leave before the metro stopped at 1am but found the time to be 12:54am. No Cross Club for us since we were not interested in paying for a cab. So the night wore on with dancing and getting to know the other travelers in our group. It had been awhile since I had seen Amber, so I went looking. Nowhere. She was nowhere. I started to feel bit uneasy but I figured I probably just missed her somewhere. So Thibault and I keep dancing. We take a beer break and I look for Amber again. Nowhere. We bump into Omar and he conveys Amber’s message that she’s outside trying to talk with a Czech guy. Feeling relieved, I head out there. No Amber. I go back in, interrogate Omar who says she was just outside, I check the club again and get worried.
No Amber.
Thibault can see the concern on my face so he offers to go walk around a few blocks with me to try to find her. We walk quickly and at every corner I do a “Whoop! Whoop!” (we learned it from Denver Cruisers:-) and wait to hear a return call.
Nothing.
Yes, I know Amber is a big girl and can take care of herself, but we’re in a foreign country and she didn’t say she was taking off. She’s good at disappearing on me in the States. Here, it made me very uneasy. Thibault and I go back to the club and take another look. No Amber. We go back outside for a smoke in hopes that maybe she comes around the corner or out of the club. We wait for about 30 minutes which makes our happy adrenaline rushes from dancing fade. Thibault suggests we head back to the hostel. I agree, thinking maybe Amber had enough and went back for some sleep.
Upon arrival, I check her bed. No Amber. Damnit woman! Where the hell are you?!? I head back down to the lobby, still worried. Thibault decides to keep me company while I sit and hope that Amber walks through the doors.
4:00am: No Amber
4:30am: No Amber
5:00am: Still no Amber
5:20am: Too tired to stay up, I decide to head to my room.
Thibault asks what will I do if she doesn’t return later in the morning. Call the police. All my mind can think about is if Amber’s dead in a gutter, her mom is totally going to kill me. I climb into bed, trying to figure out what time I should wake up if I do need to call the police, when the door swings open.
Amber!
Where the hell were you?!?!? She apologizes and says, “I’m so sorry, I hope you weren’t freaking out too much. I just had the most awesome night ever! But someone is waiting for me so I have to go…”
Jeezy Chrizy, woman. Let me say, I slept like the dead.

Wandering Prague

It’s hard to believe that three days have passed. I could try to describe all the places we’ve been to but that would be on the level of J.R.R Tolkien. You are totally not getting that because I have beer to drink a city to run amuck in. What I will write is a run down of things you should definitely see in Prague. And maybe a story…
These won’t be in any particular order. If I say you should see it, that means it was freaking awesome. Like sharks with lasers on their heads. Or pizza growing on vines.
A. St Vitus Cathedral: to say it was stunning in it’s size, architecture, stained glass, and ornamentation is almost an insult. They also have pizza growing on vines and Jesus doing “jazz hands”. Buy the short tour which includes St Vitus, the Old Royal Palace, the Basilica of St George, and the Golden Lane. Only two of those make the 250 kourna ($15) worth it.
B. The Golden Lane: hobbit houses. It’s where the soldiers use to be quartered inside the castle walls. The row is now shops and some historic setting (like a soldiers quarters or the tavern) but if you see a door that’s unmarked, go in if you can. We stumbled onto the upper level of the row which is filled with suits of armor, weapons, and a crossbow shooting range. Yes. For 50 kourna ($3), you too can shoot a crossbow! We also stumbled on a lower level that had an apothecary’s quarters. Very awesome.
C. The Royal Gardens: if you need to escape the throngs of people at Prague Castle, hop over to the Royal Gardens. They’re much quieter and you get to see Prague’s new orangery and the Royal Summer House.
Note: the guards for the Castle and Gardens are way hot.
D. The random art installations: they are EVERYWHERE. if you see random humungous babies, a weird giant wooden smurf, or slanting steps with strange humanesque statues stop and check it out. Prague is full of culture. Walk around, especially off the beaten path, and you actually get to see it. Walking along the river path is an excellent idea especially since you can hop to one of the tiny islands in the river.
E. St Charles Bridge: during the day it’s filled with tourists and vendors trying to get your kourna with all sorts of cochkies or jewelry. You can see the multitude of statues. But at night, that’s the place to be (Per Amber. I might get there tonight if the rain stops.) because the locals hang there.
F. Astrological Clock: go here early in the morning. Humans are rude, especially when they’re tourists en masse. Old Town seems to teem with tourists around 11am.
G. Mucha/Dali Exhibit: if you like one of these artists, its worth the visit.
H. Estate Theatre: this is where Don Giovanni was performed for the first time ever by Mozart. If you like the opera, seriously, spend the money and get a box seat. We were classy bitches and had one. Well worth the money especially if you’re almost directly in front of the stage. It’s amazingly beautiful in blue and golden gilt.
I. Sedlec Ossuary in Kunta Hora: 40,000 skeletons decorating a church because they couldn’t throw the bones away when the cemetery became full. It’s worth the 184 kourna to get a round trip train ticket and 60 kourna to tour it. Make it a 1/2 day trip because it takes an hour to get there.
Those are my picks so far. Updates coming soon along with restaurants and beer.
Na Zdravií!

First Night in Prague

Disclaimer: I’m drinking a Budvar as I write this. It’s my 3rd beer and they cost about the same as a bus ticket except when it’s happy hour then they’re 20 kourna. You’ll get the reference in abit.
After a grueling 24 hours in airports and on airplanes, I finally made it to Prague! Since I’m savvy enough to navigate most mass transit, I hop the 119 bus into Prague. Only 32 kourna gets you where ever you need for a 90 minute period which was enough to arrive at The Czech Inn.
Note: The Czech Inn is an freaking awesome hostel. Very clean. Very safe. Decently priced. Right near the tram. The price for food and beer are super cheap in comparison to Mala Stana and Old Town. Highly recommended.
My first duty after long flights: shower. Amber finds me post-shower while I’m brushing my teeth (we ended up on different flights which separated us for about 10 hours) and fills me in on her day of walking around. I ask if she took mass transit to the host. Amber says she splurged on a cab but the driver was awesome. It was 1000 kourna (about $60). I say, “Really? I took mass transit for 32 ($1.90)…” WHAT?!?!? Yeppers. The rest of the night it was the butt of many, many jokes at her expense. To her credit, Amber did do something that I don’t do. She had made a Czech friend over Facebook that was going to meet us at the Inn.
Intro: Michel. Let me tell you, Amber so TOTALLY lucked out on him. Michel is one of the nicest, gentlemanly ball busters I’ve met in awhile. He teased her about never having seen the original Star Wars movies (which I do often). He touts liking sci-fi but is definitely no geek.
And I digress…so Amber and I are chugging a beer in the bar at the hostel when she squeals and hugs some guy that walks up to her.
Who the heck is this guy? Michel!
Amber does the intro and our Brazilian Czech friend takes us out for the night…
Our first stop is a beer garden. An honest, true blue, Czech beer garden. There’s a rock n roll band playing on a huge stage, tons of picnic tables, TONS of people, and stands that sell you grilled sausage of all kinds and beer. Beautiful Czech beer. We hang for a bit drink a beer, munch on klobasa, and get to know each other. Michel had said there was a film festival happening all week next to beer garden so we finish our beers and go walking. Not much more than half a block away is a big screen playing a documentary about Blanksy and street art. Afterward watching for about 15 minutes, Amber and Michel decide to go back to the garden and I stayed for the movie.
It was a beautiful night. The park had an amazing view of the castle and St Vitus. How could I not stay? Yes, I came to drink beer. But I also came to enjoy the culture. Watch movie…look at view…watch movie…look at view…what did you say?…sorry…neh Czechsky….yes, I do speak English. What? Yes, I have heard of tantric massage. You manage a spa that does that?
So that’s me, meeting Jan. He gives me his business card and says to stop by tomorrow and he’ll show me around the spa. I didn’t go…yet. I really need a massage so I’m tempted to schedule one there. We’ll see.
Movie over. I head back to the beer garden. I find Amber and Michel, we drink another beer, then we head to the fucking COOLEST bar evah. No, really. It’s all rebar and moving parts with awesome techno. Like beautiful house music. Music that makes anyone want to shake their ass.
Intro: Cross Club. Seriously. This place looks like it jumped out of Firefly (sci-fi tv show). If you haven’t seen the show, sorry, but you suck (at least from a geek perspective). It’s 4 floors of amazing. The only thing not amazing about it was the two drunk Czech guys hitting on me. I might be about sensuality, but if you grab my ass before I even know your name, you = looser. Homie does not play like that. The worst part was I actually had to ask Amber to save me. They just wouldn’t leave me alone! Hell, do I really look like a horny American woman who has no standards? Even with Amber discouraging them, they STILL would not leave me alone! Wtf?!?!? I would dance, see one and duck off the dance floor, hide in a booth with Amber and Michel, and when it looked safe I would hit the dance floor again. This was the drill for probably about an hour until one figured out where I was hiding. The one that was trying to grope me the most. Damn.
Amber’s quote of the night, “I was thinking about kissing you in hopes that he would think we were a pair but I really think that would just turn him on more and we’d be fucked.”
Agreed.
Quaintly drunk, we left the club.
My favorite part of the night: watching Amber and Michel suck face in the booth while I ate the fried camembert and french fries we were going to share. When they finally pulled away from each other, I started clapping and said, “Bravo! Bravo!” Scared the shit out of them. They had no clue I had sat there for 5 minutes, just watching.
Epic win.

Prague, Paris and 24 hours

As I sit ever so patiently in the airport, my thoughts go to what’s been happening to me over the past 2 weeks and where the heck I’m headed. Heading not just in the sense of physical location, but where I’m heading in my life. The idea I put out to the universe of stumbling upon a job that paid decently in either city so I could stay for however long I want put a MUCH different spin on packing and tying up loose ends before leaving. It’s also made me think more deeply about my past relationships, current relationships, and what really defines family and friends.

I’ve been dating. It feels…odd. I’ve never really been a “dating” kind of girl. I meet someone, we talk, we become friends and then some drunken night we end up shagging and *poof!* all of a sudden I have a boyfriend. On top of that, I’m really bad at figuring out that I’m actually being asked out on a date. Unless the guy says the word “date”, I never think it’s a date. Even if he pays for everything. There’s an interesting block in my head that developed from my time in New York City that says men are supposed to pay for everything even if they’re not your boyfriend. Of course having two older brothers doesn’t help either. I have always been more comfortable around guys. The problem: growing up with two older brothers meant they “persuaded” other guys to not date me (that’s what a little bird told me) and thus I was always surrounded by my brothers and all of their friends that never showed an interest in me. Now when I’m in a group of guys, I never really think that one of them may be interested in dating me. These are issues I’ve been struggling with for years. It has a tendency to create very awkward situations.
Which is why I like Hollywood. He drew the line in the sand that his interests were not just friendship. Hollywood wanted to date me.
So why have all my relationships failed? I think the answer is: I’m an intelligent conservative crazy looking for a renaissance man that’s just as crazy as me. Since I’m no longer baby crazy, it has made me wonder if the relationships I had during that time would have worked differently. Would I still be with James? Lucas? Sef? Would I still be happily married to Thadd? Probably not. Oh well…
To top the craziness of maybe not coming back, I moved out of my apartment and have committed to couch hopping. Which made the packing process even crazier since I had to decide what was staying with me, what was going into storage, what was being sold, and what was garbage. If you ever need to let go, decide on being a gypsy with no home. It makes you let go of alot of things, including your perceptions and opinions. Such as family. Yes, I have blood family, but my Colorado family stepped up to help in ways I never expected. Even new friends from the Denver Cruisers have opened their homes and hearts to me. It really is touching to know there are so many kind people still out in the world. Hopefully, I find just as many awesome people in Europe as I have in Colorado.
I’m not sure what my destination is in the big scheme, but I feel that I’m finally open to the path and all the mud that was weighing me down before has dried. Now it’s time to kick it off and follow the dragonflies.
Live fiercely!

Bicycles and Revelations

If you see this bike, it's MINE!!!

So….my Pee-Wee Herman style bike was stolen on Friday night.

Never did I expect to get so emotional about it. It’s just a bike, right? I can buy a new one, right?

No, I can’t. That was MY bike. Some bastard has it that totally has no clue what the bike means to me.

But it’s just a bike, right? Nope. I never thought I’d feel this way about my bike. Since March, it’s been my only mode of transport. I ride it to work, out for drinks with friends, show up at clubs with it, put it on the bike rack on the bus and take it to Golden or Boulder, to the park for a picnic, down to the coffee shop for a day of nonsense, to the farmers’ market and grocery shopping, or I just cruise around town late at night to clear my head. This bike has been my only friend at times. The only thing I could depend on to carry me.

We’ve had a ton of good times. We’ve gone on the Wednesday and Sunday rides with the Denver Cruisers, all over Santa Fe, the various biking dates along with all the times men have asked me out because they saw me pull up on my bike, watching the sun set at the Denver Science and History Museum while drinking a bottle of wine with friends…the list goes on.

I know every inch of that bike. It’s like knowing a lover. I know every ding and scratch and how they got there. I can feel when something is wrong with it like the gears are doing something funny or the wheels feel like they’re even slightly wobbly. I’ve crashed that bike so many times, whether it was due to drinking a smidge too much or it was some asshole speed skater pushing me over, but it kept going. It’s built like a freaking tank and took just as much power to pedal it. It makes riding other bikes much easier because they’re all light-weights in comparison.

That bike never gave up on me.

It was a gift to myself when I graduated from a trade school. I shouldn’t have spent the money but I always tell myself “buy what you love” and when I laid eyes on it for the first time… I loved it. Through the grimy window of the Schwinn shop at Colfax and Adams, I fell in love with a beautiful red and white Schwinn 7 Alloy. Seven gears, two side baskets, and the memory of how much I had wanted a Pee-Wee Herman bike as a young teen propelled me into that store and pull out my credit card. I remember feeling giddy as I walked it out of the store and hopped on it for the first time. The rush of being on a bike again, my hair blowing in the wind, and a May day being the most perfect day ever.

That’s what a bicycle can do. 

It can change your whole perspective in an instant. It changes you mentally, emotionally, and physically if you let it.

And you learn how to always get up when you get knocked down.

Botanic Gardens, Two Bottles of Wine, and a First Date

This is on my brother's fridge. Apropos for my Saturday night.

As I sit on my couch and recount this tale, I will say this is a warning. Do NOT do this on a first date. I am a trained professional at making an ass of myself. With Gershwin and a cup of coffee I will retell my tale of laughter and accidental drunkeness with Hollywood (you know I don’t give names!).

“So…um…would you like to go out on a date with me sometime?”

It was just so endearing. He did the adult version of kicking the dirt with his feet. How could I possibly say no? I had been coming into the store where Hollywood worked for weeks in a row. I never really lead on that I thought he was handsome but perhaps it was stopping to have extended conversations with him that did it. Or maybe it was my comment in this particular meeting that I’m a pagan and well…I’m going on a camping trip and we get a bit crazy with Dionysus. Who knows? Either way, he got the balls up to ask.

This past Saturday night we met on the playing field of the first date. A Denver Botanic Gardens membership, bottle of red, bottle of white, a pack of smokes, and two strangers that have an attraction. GAME ON!

Many events happen at the Gardens on a summer Saturday night such as weddings, charity events, anniversary parties, you get the gist. I show up on my bike and am waiting only a few minutes when I see Hollywood. He navigates through the throng of wedding attendants, regular patrons and random passers-by to my perch on the bike rack wall. He hides the bottle of red I brought in his backpack. We make our way into the Gardens with the contraband wine, walk around a bit while he tells a tale of his grandfather (he invented Spring Break…hilarious!), and as it starts to rain on our 2 person parade, we find a cozy little spot that hides us in a bunch of pine trees.

Hollywood takes out the chilled bottle of white. A Gewürztraminer from the Willamette Valley in Oregon! Brownie points for him! Then 2 wine glasses follow. Actual glass. More brownie points for style. Good wine, interesting conversation, out in nature, and then he asks if I mind if he smokes. I only mind if you don’t give me one. Talk about bad kids breaking the rules! Bottle number one is down for the count and we start on bottle number two but not without an intermission, aka a potty break. Since we’re so far back in the Gardens, we have no clue where the nearest bathroom is so we do a little bushwacking to where Cheeseman Park butts up to the property line. I pop a squat and he’s looking at me, “AHEM! Be a gentleman and turn around!”. I think he was so stunned that I didn’t say we should try to find the bathrooms he forgot all his manners. Of course, that really didn’t matter to me. His job was to watch for any pedestrians coming our way, not watch me.

As the deed is done, we hear people coming our way so I do what I’ve been taught to do in the movies…pretend you’re making out to serve as a distraction and cover up. What can I say? It does actually work. Silly Americans and your adversity to public displays of affection.

We decide to walk the Gardens a bit more (flip flops off which was so nice to do) and end up, again, at the back in the Japanese  section on a very long bench. We continue drinking the red wine, having a wonderful conversation, feeling the moist earth under our feet as night time falls on us. The Gardens are becoming more quite as the Christmas lights in the trees become brighter. I love the Gardens at night. It makes me want to put my fairy wings on and go running around and climbing trees. I’m not really sure how it happened, but he kissed me. It started out as one of those passionately tender kisses, the kind that make you melt and rile up all those butterflies in your stomach. Then it became the kind of kiss that grabs you in the primal parts of your body and soul and nothing else exists except the two of you. I was aware that a few people started to walk the path where we were, then an ‘Oh!’ was heard and the steps went away.

I have no clue how long we were there kissing. It had been such a long time since I had felt such overwhelming passion and lust from just kissing, I didn’t care who saw us. Except when you realize there’s a flashlight on you and a guy saying, “The Gardens are closing. Make your way to the gate, please.”

Seriously, I felt like we were two teenagers making out minus the embarrassment of getting caught.

We make our way towards the main gate with a detour to the bathrooms. On the way, we walk through what looks like a separate event from the wedding that happened earlier. After our potty break, Hollywood gets the slim idea of seeing if they’d give us some wine. Man after my own heart….they give us two PINT glasses filled with white wine! Whoa! Hey, what’s over there? A big tent with soft lights on the lawn…perfect for dancing under. So of course we set the wine down and try our hand at the waltz. I’m laughing my ass off because we’re totally not doing the waltz (I’ve had dope training in waltz, foxtrot, and salsa), there’s no music, and we’re barefoot in the grass. As we’re laughing and dancing, the SAME GUY comes by and says EXACTLY the same thing. He’s apparently very into his job.

We finally make it to the main gate. My wine had taken a spill in the grass so my cup had maybe 3oz in it. Hollywood had about half a cup left. We drained our cups and made our way out onto the street. It was a beautiful night so we sat on the wall by my bike for a bit. We had started this date at 6pm and it was quite late now especially since we both had to work the next day. We started kissing again and the world went away. And then suddenly it came crashing back as we both tumbled about 2 feet off the wall into some pretty tough long grass. I was laughing so hard I couldn’t find my sunglasses! He helped me up, then bent over the wall and like magic they were in his hands. I decided that some water might be a good idea even though I was feeling pretty good, just a little dehydrated. I took a big sip. We kept kissing.

And it happened.

In no more than 2 minutes did my stomach protest the ingestion of something besides wine. The world started to spin and I said, “I don’t think the wine is mixing with the water very well…” and my brain said to my conscience, “Hey, I think we forgot to eat dinner before this date…” Whoops.

New guideline for living: Eat dinner before you meet a date for drinks. Yakking not fun on a first date.

Old guideline re-instated: Do not mix your drinks, i.e. white wine, then red wine, then champagne, then 2 shots of vodka…you get the idea. That was on a night about 4.5 years ago. Stick to what you start with.

We ended up laying down by the bike rack together, hidden from the sidewalk and road by a row of plants and a 2 foot wall. My head was on his chest, I could hear his heartbeat and feel him breathe. I love that. It’s just so relaxing for me to hear a heartbeat with the warmth of a chest under my cheek. Little to our knowledge, the Moonlight Ride was happening on the other side of the wall. We heard bells and peaked up over our man-made fox hole. Hundreds of bikers, young and old, passing by us and going into the parking garage. Great. I am Teresa’s sense of “Oh Shite, I hope no one recognizes me”.

Apparently Hollywood had dinner along with a better tolerance to wine (the tannins get me every freaking time) so he loaded up my bike in his car and drove me the 8 blocks home. Those were the 8 longest blocks in history. For all the fun it was, I was sure that this was going to be the first and last date. I fortified my senses, ready for the blow of “Yeah, I’ll call you later this week…” Translation: I am so totally not calling you ever again. Hollywood pulls up in front of my building, pulls my bike out, kisses me good night and asks if I would want to go on another date. What? For real?

Tonight: The Second Date

Wish me luck. We’re going for sushi.