Denver: Angel or Devil

From my last post, all can tell that it was hard for me to leave 7,220 ft. and move to the Big City. But, I quickly realized that my destinations could have been far worse. For instance, when Lyle and I contemplated moving to North Dakota, a land my cousin once told a job interviewer was the one state this country could live without.

Denver was the best of all the options Lyle had for PT school and we were extremely excited when he got accepted to Regis University. Yet, I was wary of Denver. Like all the other cities in our group of options, because I had become so fond and frankly comfortable living in a small town. Now I would have to drive to work (because I routinely do not get off until 11 p.m. and I work downtown Denver) and a trip to the mountains would be more than a quick trip to the Happy Jack summit. Then again, I'm blessed to be able to stay in the Rocky Mountain Region and be so close to much of my family, especially my Mam (yea I said Mam, you know with a Chicago accent) and Dad. With equal weights on the scale, it was time to let experiences here be the test.

With just over a week in the bag at the Denver Post, I thought I was beginning to know how city life worked. I left my house just after four to beat the 5 p.m. rush hour. I took the path of least resistance by learning some side streets instead of maneuvering I-25. I made sure to have an extra granola bar in my car every couple days to give to the homeless guy who set up shop a couple blocks from my office. My cup holder always had enough quarters to fill the meter for the 5-6 p.m. time slot before the meter maids head home for the evening. And that's when things started to go downhill.

Starting next week I will have a spot in the parking garage, but for now I have been hunting down well-lit spots on the street. I found a row of parking right in front of the building where I just had to pay for an hour of parking, until Wednesday night. I walk out at 11 p.m. and there is a little yellow envelope sticking out of my door. My optimism thought it was an advertisement, but no such luck. A $25 ticket for parking over the one hour time limit and right above my car, a newly posted sign signifying that the meters will be checked until 10 p.m. Monday-Saturday. I'm pretty sure that sign was posted while I was in the office that night.

Lindsey-0, Denver-1

Denver, if you want me to go back to Wyoming I will, but I don't think Lyle will be too happy about it. I hate to end on a sour note, as Denver tried to win me back on Sunday.

Dewey, the boss man at the Pedal House, bought the whole crew tickets to a Colorado Rockies baseball game during the summer to encourage team bonding (as if we needed more of that) over America's pastime, some dogs and beers. While Joel was unable to stomach the trip due to illness, Dewey, Jessica (Dewey's wife), Pedar, Katie (Pedar's girl), and the Large man took in a game at Coors Field. 

Due to our new proximity to LoDo and the spirit of a Pedal House gathering, Lyle, Large, and I took the opportunity to use the free bicycle parking in front of the first base entrance. We parked our two-wheelers, indulged in the free Clif Bars and water and made our way into the game.

It was a great game filled with sunflower seeds, an argument with Rockies officials stemming from Large trying to start the wave, and a walk-off homerun earning the Rockies their 10th straight win. But, the exciting part came as we went to pick our bikes up. The bicycle guard woman asked our last name and promptly stated that not only had we won four free tickets to a Rockies game later this month but also received the opportunity to watch batting practice from the field. All this goodness just for riding our bicycles to the game.

So we will watch the Rockies host the Giants later in September, hopefully at the start of another Rocktober like in 2007.

Lindsey-1 , Denver-1
For now Denver, we are tied. But, there are many rounds to go. I want to like you Denver. You just have to be nice.