Rocky Mountain High

Well it sure as hell ain't Kansas. Out the window of the Pinnacle Lodge motel Plotnik is staring at snow capped mountains (with a lot less snow than there used to be, people say), a creek, a few deer, a meadow or two and a whole lot of pine trees. People in Colorado look different too -- it's like one of those Wilde Weste contests where everybody grows handlebar mustaches. These folks don't appear to be in any contest, though. Lots of Pendleton shirts, sawdust on boots, a scar or two maybe, the odd tattoo and piercing.

Plottie is in Winter Park, an hour and a half out of Denver, and last night's wedding was a lot of work but fun. It never stops amazing him that people who come to parties all enjoy hearing the same old music. Plottie got to sing Johnny Be Goode for the first time in awhile, and Do You Love Me, and What a Wonderful World, and All You Need Is Love, though the latter was in a key signature John Lennon never could have imagined. See, you don't have to play the songs right, especially if everybody in the band doesn't know them, all you have to do is get up there, open your mouth, pound your keyboard and scream. It's the illusion of music that seems to count.

But it was musical enough. And the view was great, and the food was...well, it was free.

Today the question is: to go to Steamboat Springs, or all the way to Aspen, where The Wave of Groove won't be back from Nashville until tomorrow and Plotnik thinks he ought to let Wave decompress for awhile until he makes contact again.

Can't get over how the people look out here -- so, well, so furry! Also really, really nice. But what's with a 10:30AM check out time?