Poor, Poor Kyle!

So I left Grand Canyon and drove... and drove... and drove. It was my intention to drive for a couple of hours and find a hotel. Instead I spent approximately four hours on the road... the first two getting a head start to my buddy Wayne's home just south of Denver... the second two being desperately tired and frustrated at my inability to find anything resembling accommodations. Also, it was mostly pitch black and there was no place to stop for directions... There was precious little signs of life for miles on end... really and truly. At long last as midnight approached I came across a convenience store and was directed to a neighboring town, Framington, NM... forty plus miles away! Summoning my final reserves of energy and patience I raced to Framington, found a cheap hotel, and slept with the depth and innocence of a newborn.

Friday morning I was back on the road. Wayne's house in Castle Rock, CO was still 7 or so hours away but it was daylight and the scenery was beautiful. I was particularly excited about this stop on my trip. I was about to hang out with two longtime friends in Wayne and Jim. We worked together back in the early nineties and although had seen very little of each other since, remained connected. I could only stay in the area for a single night so it was decided to forgo seeing the sights in favor of a cookout. When I arrived in late afternoon the party was in full swing. We spent a relatively short time getting reacquainted before settling in for an evening's worth of familiar horseplay. The hijinks were in part fueled by Wayne's introduction of a new (to me) drink... Van Gogh's Dutch Chocolate Vodka. Now, my love of chocolate and the occasioanl libation is well documented. It must be said that combining two elements with such grand success had not been accomplished since the discovery of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups decades ago. Thankfully Wayne had plenty on hand. Wayne, his cutie patootie spark plug of a wife Sherry, Jim, his disarmingly sweet wife Betty, and myself ate, drank, and laughed for hours. Early in the evening I called our friend Kyle. He's another dear friend who worked with Wayne, Jim, and I all those years ago. I put Wayne on the phone, then Jim, before chatting with him myself. Kyle is smart, loyal, and funny... to this day we remain tickled by the word "doody" (I never claimed we were sophisticated). Like Jim and Wayne, long gaps of time can pass but the connection remains strong. After hanging up Jim made a playful crack about Kyle's manliness... not realizing it would become a subject revisited with increasing frequency as the evening progressed. There came to be an inverse relationship between Van Gogh's Dutch Chocolate Vodka and cracks about poor Kyle. As the vodka decreased doubts about Kyle's manliness increased. In his absence he suffered terribly at the hands of his old mates. Much like Arizona desert sun it was brutal and unforgiving...

I would be remiss to not comment on Wayne's house. Jim dubbed it "Stately Wayne Manor" (for you young whippersnappers, it's a reference to the 1960's TV show Batman). It is a cavernous yet homey 5400 sq ft. on 5 acres of land. Wayne beamed as he gave me a tour... rightly so. He took a bit of a risk uprooting himself from his native New Jersey. It paid off handsomely. He and Sherry have made a beautiful life for themselves in Colorado. The same can be said for Jim. He left the densely populated Northeast years ago to settle in the Denver area. He has three beautiful children, a lovely wife, and a terrific job. None of their good fortunes would have been possible had they not taken risks. I'm happy they were rewarded for their courage.

During the course of the trip I didn't treat my itinerary as etched in stone. For weeks I'd been all across the country. If I needed or simply desired more time in a given place, I stayed. On the final destinations I no longer had that flexibility. I needed to be in NYC on the 14th of August for a freelance gig. I had already canceled a day in July and felt it unwise to do so a second time. By the time I reached Wayne, Jim and their families (who, by the way, were not involved in the Kyle bashing) there was no time to see Denver. All there was time for was to hang out at Stately Wayne Manor, spending an evening goofing off with long time friends.