This is the last day I have this week to complete three projects which I am multitasking on. I also have a couple of errands to run. The errands easily win out. A quick shower and I'm off. I miss my bus by one minute and wait, breathing automobile exhaust for a half hour before the next one. I am in downtown Denver by noon. Plenty of time to do what I need to do and get back in time to finish my work.
I make my purchases and have lunch at my favorite place, Leelas.
Leela European Cafe.
There is still time to catch the free mall shuttle down to the Office Depot, pick up some copy paper and ride the shuttle back to the bus station and home. I limp over to the mall and wait for the shuttle. It is nowhere in sight which is not unusual because sometimes it runs sporadically.
All day I have noticed an increasing number of younger people on the mall, all walking toward the lower end. Everyone seemed to be made up in costume with a lot of painted scars and fake blood. As usual I am totally obtuse to my surroundings. If they wanted to look like a fool t was OK with me.
I limp to the center island to look for the wayward shuttle. No sign of it so I sit on the edge of an empty planter to wait, propping my cane against a nearby tree. Within 5 minutes a polite woman in a yellow vest appears. It was almost, almost as though she has been directed to me, perhaps by a small two way radio, after I am spotted through an overhead camera sitting on a flowerpot. She smiles at me. I look at her and say "What do you want? She indicates to me that it displeases the Powers That Be for me to sit on an empty flowerpot. Suddenly I am imbibed by the spirit of Rosa Parks. I play the poor, sick old man card. I tell Shelia that I don't care what she or the city wanted, my foot hurts, I am tired and I am simply not going to get up from my big flowerpot. I plan to sit there until my shuttle comes. Shelia keeps her cool. She appears to agree with me. She tells me the shuttle stopped running. I react with confusion. The shuttle is a given. "What do you mean?" The shuttle has stopped for the festival. "What festival?" The Zombie Fest. Why am I not surprised? This explains why all of these people are walking around looking like idiots but it does not explain how I am going to get off the mall. I have already done Zombie. I did it for the 26 years I drank alcoholically. I have also seen enough blood and brains and gore to last a lifetime.
So the city stops commerce so they can put on a show. I am thinking that if they want a show, I can drop my pants and bend over. But I don't say this. It dawns on me that I am probably already close to being put on the lunatic fringe list.
I take my leave, faintly hearing a voiceover of Woodie Guthrie Singing Alice's Restaurant. I start walking toward the upper end of the mall and after a block realize I am no longer capable of walking much further than that. I double back, take a slow train out of town to a park and ride. After a half hour wait I catch a bus home. It takes me three and a half hours to run a small errand and have lunch.
Imagine A Great City / FREDDY PEÑA
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