So. I’ve been on my Denver trip since Wednesday.

Well, sadly to say, I have been near-Denver. Broomfield, Colorado. I do not recommend it. Except for the tumbleweeds. Which are really cool. And, for the record, I’m sure Denver is AWESOME and I will see actual-Denver someday, and we will like each other very much and kiss each other delightedly on the cheeks, and it will be fabulous.

Anyway. Lots happening. Roller derby championships were full of excitement and heartbreak. Our full-page ad was gorgeous. Getting to teach in Boulder was super fun.

And now I’m ready to come home. Really ready.

In the meantime, notes from the road.

Or from the stateroom. Since this is, of course, an imaginary ocean liner voyage.
As so many things are. When you’re me.

The superpower of recognizing superpowers.

I adore superpowers, as you know. And I ask for a new one every day. Just for fun.

It’s a way to practice noticing.

Then that superpower helps me discover the sneaky surprise superpower that I invariably end up absorbing up along with the first one.

The superpower I asked for on the flight over here was seeing all the ways that everything is working.

And my bonus surprise stowaway superpower turned out to be that I got to be hyper-aware of everyone else’s superpowers. Which was the perfect superpower to have.

Other people have the best superpowers, as it turns out…

The woman next to me on the plane had the superpower of finding something beautiful everywhere.

Her granddaughter, who looked my age but somehow had two kids in college, had the superpower of making space.

The two little girls behind me had the superpower of thinking that turbulence was hilariously funny.

They giggled happily at every bounce like they were on the best amusement park ride ever. It was awesome.

They also had the superpower of purple shoes. Snazzy!

Mordor and the Tacoma Screw.

So I always feel kind of bad when someone comes into Portland and you have to drive them into the city proper from the airport.

Because it’s kind of scuzzy-embarrassing-industrial. And not in a fabulous urban decay sort of way. Well, maybe in the right lighting. No, not really.

But really, it’s a bunch of warehouses and strip clubs. Lots and lots of strip clubs. And you’re thinking, please don’t look!

And the screw factory. Which, weirdly, is not a strip club.

I mean, if I were going to open a strip club… it would definitely be called The Screw Factory.

Has there ever been a more apt name for a venture that involves both nudity and chicken fried steak? I think not. This would also have to be the name of my band, because it is the best band name ever. But is it just one guy?

Oh, and get this.

The screw factory is actually called Tacoma Screw. So everyone pretty much has to think it’s a strip club anyway. Right?

Ohmygod. If it were my strip club, we’d refer to absolutely EVERYTHING as the Tacoma Screw. It would be a drink! A show! A side dish.

Would you like a Tacoma Screw with your fries? Of course you would. Who wouldn’t?

But back to Mordor.

When I said that I was going to Denver with Barrington, Leni suggested in the comments that I view the drive from the airport to the hotel as a scenic visit to Mordor.

I thought she was exaggerating. Being playful. Because it’s a brilliant idea.

But seriously, the drive from the Denver airport really and truly was a tour of some nightmarish sci-fi hellscape.

It actually makes my Portland survey of broken strip clubs seem significantly less distressing. And never again will I avert my eyes in shame and resignation when faced with the Tacoma Screw sign.

First there were box stores upon box stores upon box stores.

Then miles of bleak industrial smoke-stacks and cranes and machinery in this awful blackened steaming fog-soup doomscape that somehow managed to be post-apocalyptic and Dickensian at the same time.

Even pretending I’d landed in a weirdly awesome mash-up between Lord of the Rings and Metropolis did not really make it significantly less depressing.

Then pawn shops. Then another round of endless and identical box stores.

Then horrible planned communities and more box stores!

Obviously I know Denver is marvelous because I know way too many super-cool people who live here for it not to be. But man, that is an incredibly depressing way to enter a city.

A round of Tacoma Screws for everyone! May they mercifully obliterate the memory of that miserable, desperation-filled landscape before I have to do it again today on the way back.

Today my superpower will be finding tiny signs that remind me of the existence of beauty and luminosity and hidden radiance. And coming up with names for drinks.

Notes for Barrington.

I forgot to tell Barrington about the way hotels omit words that are important.

When we OOD-ed this trip, we wrote about the importance of internet access.

But then the hotel said they had high speed wireless internet in every room, and we forgot that the magic missing word there is “complimentary”.

I am putting Barrington in charge of this situation. She can decide whatever she wants. Either we calculate giant internet surcharges into travel expenses or we bring an ipad. Or we write blog posts beforehand and don’t check in with the world while we’re in another city.

But something has to change. Because paying to put up a Friday Chicken is just annoying.

Luckily Barrington is ever so handy at making useful decisions about what to do differently next time. So I’m sure whatever she plans will be fine.

What Would Barrington Do?

Have you any idea how very useful Barrington has been on this trip?

First she talked me out of bringing the massive rose garland, the purple and pink feather boa, and the purple cowboy hat with the feathers.

Because the rainbow snake and the purple wig is ALREADY the best derby boutfit that ever was, and no more is needed. Ever. She was right.

She was also right that I did not need jewelry. And about socks. Socks!

She also packed me way more snacks than I ever thought necessary. But they have all been necessary.

I simply adore Barrington. Even though this is how I speak when Barrington is around.

What happens next?

I would rather like to interview Barrington. Maybe instead of doing a spangly Revue.

What does she think worked well? What would she do differently next time?

And how is she going to help me exit and recover? Ah, notes from the road.

That’s what’s next…

Play with me. In the spacious commenting blanket fort

So those were my notes from the road. That’s what I’m thinking about.

In the meantime, let’s play!

You can invent names for strip clubs, you can interview your own Barrington, you can wish for bonus superpowers. Whatever you like.

If you feel like it.

I would also like imaginary snacks that do not exist yet, so if you can help me come up with some, that would be fun.

As always, we’re all working on our stuff. We make this a safe space for playing by letting people have their own experience, and not telling each other what to do or how to feel.

xox

p.s. You guys! I’m back tomorrow! And there will be details about Shivanauticon. Are you excited? Because I am so excited that I can hardly even sit still.