Cold In Boulder

Cold in Boulder

     Since I was restless after my military discharge, I thought about hitchhiking to Las Vegas. It was during the winter and the University was on Christmas break. I had four weeks to kill until registration. I chose to hitchhike because I did not have an automobile. I also had a friend who thought it was a good idea. Actually, this was a good idea. Both of us would find adventure in our separate ways.

       The trip took us across southern Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona. Things began to fall apart for us in Kingman, Arizona. We caught a ride out of Phoenix and ended up in Kingman. We arrived late at night and were unable to find a place to stay for the night. We pitched a tent alongside the road and waited for daylight. Kingman is a desert town, but you could not convince us that on this particular night.  It rained most of the night and into the following morning. It also gets cold in Kingman, Arizona. Soaking wet and freezing cold, we decided to take a bus into Las Vegas. Arriving at our destination, we found a place in which to spend the next few days. We were at a 15 dollars a night motel room in downtown Las Vegas.

     This was the first time either of us had been to Vegas. We were rather naïve Arkansas boys despite our college degrees. Las Vegas was something neither of us had seen before. It was 1973. The city was very different than it is today. We were able to get around the city easily with practically free bus service. One attraction that we both wanted to see was Elvis Presley performing at the International Hotel, which no longer exists. I saw its demolition while watching a documentary about Las Vegas. Unbelievably, tickets for the Elvis concert and two drinks cost 15 dollars. Restlessness overcame us and the Las Vegas lights encouraged us to wander. Before we left to explore, we called the Riviera Hotel to inquire what it would cost us to stay in a hotel on the strip and were surprised to learn it was the same price as our current hotel.

     Next stop was beautiful Colorado. During 1973, Colorado was a hot spot for celebrities. My friend, Rich, was fascinated with Denver. By this time, I was getting ready to go back to school so we parted ways. We had traveled many places together and it was time to go our separate ways. Rich met a girl that he later married while in Denver. I decided to go to Boulder, where I had some friends.

     My friends in Boulder were real hippies. They lived on a commune spreading across 120 acres in the mountains. There were 12 family groups, mostly just couples, but some with children. I spent two weeks there until I got tired of seeing nude bodies running all over the place. Yes, it was winter. We mostly sat around and listened to Bob Dylan, Gordon Lightfoot, Joan Baez, Janis Joplin, Buffy Saint Marie, Melanie, and many others. Those I listed were my favorites. My hippie friends had a large hot tub. To elaborate, it was the size of a swimming pool. It was the shape of a circle spanning a diameter of 20 feet. In the evenings, everyone would sit in the hot tub and listen to music. Some of the people could sing and play instruments. It was a great time. As I said, I just got tired of the open nudity. I am not a real prude; I went to two nude beaches while in Germany. That is unimportant. I only threw that tidbit in to impress. I had to bid this carefree lifestyle goodbye and return to the stress of college.

     My hippie friend drove me to the bus station, which was close to Interstate 78. While at the bus station, I had two chilidogs and about a dozen cups of coffee. If you have never eaten a bus station chilidog, then you will fail to know how much sympathy I deserve at this point. After spending 45 minutes in the restroom, I was ready to return to Arkansas. I walked to the nearest exchange and held up my sign, which read: University of Arkansas Fayetteville Arkansas. Cars drove past me. Cars continued to drive past me. I began daydreaming that a gorgeous blonde in a black Mercedes picked me up and she just happened to be going to Fayetteville, Arkansas. One thing we learned while in the Army is that you tend to do things like that when you are freezing. The temperature was ten below zero and getting colder. The wind was blowing and I knew I was going to freeze to death. While waiting there for a ride, I wrote one of my best pieces of poetry. I will quote it: “Damn, it is getting colder/ In Boulder.” Well, it was short, but it prevented me from thinking about freezing to death.

     When hope and anticipation began to turn to despair and I believed all was lost, a car stopped. It was German made, but not a Mercedes. It was a Volkswagen bug, but it had a heater. The driver; however, was not bad. She was not gorgeous by classical standards but she was cute, much like Janis Joplin. Best of all, she was traveling to the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville. She was pursuing her Master’s degree in Zoology. She introduced herself and asked me if I was really traveling to Fayetteville. She could not believe her luck; she had never been to Arkansas. I introduced myself and told her that I was very glad to meet Marie Constance Dirks. Marie was a fun person with whom to travel across the country. She was very intelligent and was very interested in things like philosophy and of course, Zoology. We became the best of friends as we traveled across Colorado, Kansas, Missouri, and Arkansas. Constance was intelligent, but lacked intelligence for practical things. For example, it is impossible to find a place to live two weeks before the semester begins in Fayetteville. She had grown up in a big city and failed to realize how small Fayetteville was. I saved her because I had already arranged to rent a large studio apartment within walking distance of the Campus. Yes, we lived in sin. Please do not hold it against me; it took me a long time to warm up after freezing in Boulder, Colorado.

     One cold, snowy night in Fayetteville, I told Constance that I wanted to go to the Basement. The Basement was a cool place inside the basement of an old store in Fayetteville. I think the upper part is now an upscale boutique. While there, I met an old friend I thought I would never see again, John Allegretti. I met John when I was an undergraduate. He was an Architecture Graduate student. John was a charming Italian and very fun. His flaw was simply that he was the most arrogant, self-centered SOB I had ever met, but he was a charming SOB. I liked him. The three of us were having a great time recalling our undergraduate days. I excused myself to answer nature’s call. When I returned, everyone was gone. I waited for a while, but they never returned. I just sat there quoting “Damn, it is getting colder/ In Boulder.”

     John and Marie became a couple for a while. There were not any hard feelings. It was just time to move forward. The three of us remained friends. Later in the semester, I was at a party with some friends in the basement of the building where John lived. John was not there, but many of my other friends were. Around midnight, while a few of us were chatting and drinking beer, Constance came in and asked if we had seen John. None of us had. She sat down and began drinking with us and discussing old times while waiting for John. A car drove up and we could see a couple getting out. They walked up to the door, then suddenly turned around and went back to the car. It was John with another girl. Constance said, “Well, hell, I never liked that son-of-a-bitch.” All I could manage was a laugh and to say, “Have another beer and onions.” Yes, onions and beer is a terrible combination until you get used to it. It tends to grow on you. However, it will fail to put you in any kind of romantic mood. It was another cold night in Boulder.

©2012 Michael L. Wright and Relinda Ruth