“I need you to go to Grand Junction and help out with a 1:30PM meeting on Monday.”

Let us rephrase this request.

“Can you check out a government vehicle...”
A white Ford Taurus with power windows was assigned to me. Ooooh, power windows on a government vehicle are unheard of... so are cd players and tape decks; thus, I was regulated to standard radio scanning.

“...drive west for 4-hours over beautifully treacherous mountain passes...”
I left at 6:30AM and by the time I hit the Rocky Mountains, the sun decided to make an appearance. The trees were frosted with wet snow that sparkled in the soft light of sunrise. I cursed myself for not bringing the digi-cam on the trip. At the Eisenhower Tunnel and Vail Pass the highway was frozen over with ice. I crept along at 40mph while idiot SUVs zipped past me a 75mph.

“...show up early in case they need help...”
I arrived at the Grand Junction office at 10:30AM and looked up my buddy Bob, who holds my exact position in the Grand Junction offices. We’re like career brothers. He said the meeting preparations were under control, but he had to update and print out a couple of handouts... nothing that I could help him with. Bob pointed me to the nearest café and I bid him adieu until lunchtime.

oolong tea and blueberry scone...
Lady sits alone at a square table rubbing her square jaw. Man sits alone at a table that seats eight. He flips through stapled pages, scribbling notes in the margins. Two guys and a girl sit perched on stools. Long-necked-man is in charge of the conversation. He flirts with girl-who-props-sunglasses-on-head. Man-with-back-to-me eats and chuckles. Outside, a girl with long breeze-fluttered black hair sits on a bench and frequently turns her neck to gaze down the street. She waits for someone... The hum of HVAC, the pounding from the kitchen, the babbled of subdued conversations overpower the acoustic strums of background music... My scone is doughier than usual. It’s not as sweet this way. The oolong tea is weak and lacks bitterness... Despite sitting in this bakery, there is no aroma. No smell of rising bread, no smell of baking cookies, no smell of brewed coffee. When I nibble my pencil, though, the scent of cedar incites me to inhale deeply through my nose... My head rests against the corner wall as I slouch in my smooth wooden chair and prop my elbows on the armrests. On the chair opposite me, my feet rest elevated. My legs are hot and threaten to sweat as a swatch of sun, let in through the window, refuses to move off... Ceiling molding above is glimpsed through the rotating paddles of the ceiling fans. Scuffed hard wood floors below me beg to be resurfaced.

After an hour and a half of chillin’ I headed back to the office. Upon my return, Bob declared it time for lunch so we headed out for another hour of chillin’.

“...attend the 4-hour meeting, but only speak 10 words...”
My role at this meeting was as an observer. Career brother, Bob, is just as knowledgeable as I and he managed the meeting smoothly.

“...then drive 4-hours back to Denver and make sure it’s late enough that you hit those icy mountain passes when it’s dark.”
I ate a lonely dinner at an empty Mexican restaurant. I truly did not want Mexican cuisine, but apparently the wee town of Grand Junction shuts down at 5:00PM and this place was the only open eatery I could find. Afterwards, I hit the road and headed home. Treacherous Eisenhower Tunnel and vile Vail Pass were three times more dangerous upon my return, (1) icy, (2) dark, and (3) blowing blizzard conditions. If I were single I would’ve trekked into a ritzy ski-town like Steamboat or Vail and billed the night’s stay to the Department of Transportation. But I’m not single, and I wanted to get home and crawl into bed with my Silver Queen. I pulled up to our house at 10:00PM.


When I review the trip I realize it was a complete waste of time, but damn if I didn’t find some personal enjoyment in this adventure. How often do I get to chill in the tepid microclimate of Grand Junction? Not often. Grand Junction has it’s own unique anti-Colorado weather patterns that are prime for orchard and vineyard prosperity. Sunshine and happiness. It’s like a climate oasis in the Rocky Mountain States.
...and so it was written, shenry at 4/08/2003 03:44:00 PM.
...and so it was appended with .