One Thursday night, after our shift ended at eight in the evening, Marissa and I decide to walk from work to downtown, a couple miles away. We had known each other a little over a year. We had already had the long walk were I told her I was gay. She and Meryl were the first people at work that I came out to. Marissa nearly cried when I told her. I thought that she would be revolted by me. She simply told me how much she loved me and that she had an uncle who was gay. He had died of AIDS. At the time, it was like one more confirmation of where I would end up, still, it was wonderful to have her support.
Our walk downtown was only to kill time and enjoy the warm summer night air. It is the night that I believe cemented our friendship into the life-long category. We walked down Colfax Avenue, which used to be the hubbub of all that the city had to offer, and is now the hubbub of all that loose women and drug dealers have to offer. We weren’t nervous. We had to restrain angry, barely lucid teenagers who were bigger than us everyday. We could take whatever might come our way.
We walked and laughed as we told each other more stories form our childhoods and college experiences. We didn’t have a destination in mind, so we just turned any corner we felt like when we came to the downtown shopping district, know as Sixteenth Street Mall. We soon came to a stop in front of the Brown Palace Hotel. Built in 1892, it is one of Denver’s oldest and finest Hotels. It is a mix of colonial and Victorian styling. Neither of us would ever be able to afford to stay or dine at the Brown Palace.
We looked at each other, grinned, and entered the front doors in a flourish. It was like stepping into the Titanic, without all the ice and water and Celine Dion. Everything was decorated in rich, warm tones. Everything was elaborate to the most minute detail. There was a restaurant, bar, salon, shops, formal sitting parlor—old-school luxurious. We walked around the first floor area, looking conspicuous in our jeans and t-shirts to be sure. However, as the Brown Palace is a historical monument, the public is free to come, explore, and enjoy the main floor. Soon, we came to stairs with a sign reading, ‘Only paying guests beyond this point, please.’ We give each other another ridiculous grin and rush up the stairs, stooping as if not to be seen. Apparently, it worked. No one said anything to us.
We found our way to an elevator that was hidden from public view and hoped on. We decided to go to the top floor. The doors opened and we stepped out, feeling like we had stepped back in time. Both of us have a rather effervescent imagination, and soon we were discussing what ghosts might reside on this particular floor and wondering how many distraught business men might have come to this floor and thrown themselves off the railing and down upon the guests below when the stock market crashed so many years ago. We wandered down every hallway. Outside of one of the suites, we discovered a cart with trays of food on it. It had obviously been picked over and discarded. However, it was not picked over very much. It would have been simply wrong to let it go to waste. There were about eight very long, very thin, very crunchy bread sticks protruding out of a little crystal vase-like vessel. I glanced around to make sure we were really alone, caught Marissa’s eye and stuffed the breadsticks into my pocket. Giddy with glee, we giggled all the way back to the first floor and exited the building.
Once on the street again, we doubled over in laughter. I pulled out the breadsticks and we began to devour our feast. They were outstanding. It was like biting into crispy butter. For being seemingly hard and stale, they melted in our mouths. It was all Marissa could to do convince me to refrain from going back in for a second helping.
On our way back, we walked up Seventeenth Street. It is a little more user friendly than Colfax. We laugh all the way to our cars at work. On the way back, we past the bright, friendly, packed bar where I would meet Hew several years in the future. I had yet to be in a gay bar. Marissa and I looked at it in curiosity. It looked inviting. There were windows around it, and a warm amber glow seemed to emanate from inside. People were crowded out on the balcony and spilling through the doors. Laughter wafted to us as we passed. It didn’t seem like the dark, evil places of which I had heard tell. Not that I wouldn't find those too. :)
Black Coffee Tables
9 years ago
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