Things to do in Denver When You’re Drunk

Before the NFL regular season started, my brother-in-law Jim got some tickets for a pre-season Broncos game. He used some credit card points to purchase the tickets. Just before Christmas, he received a call from the card company asking if he wanted some free tickets to the season finale against the San Francisco 49ers. Of course he said yes. He told us about his fortunes when he was here for Christmas, and we were jealous. When he went to pick up the tickets, instead of the pair he was expecting, he was given 3 pairs. One pair was for the luxury seats and the other two pair were 24 rows from the field. Jim graciously offered his extra tickets to us, and we didn’t hesitate to accept.

Bright and early Saturday morning I left for Denver with Mac and Melissa (who turned the trip into an early anniversary) and Beth’s husband Scott. We took Mike’s Montero, for which I am grateful. I didn’t want to put over 1000 miles on my new car, nor did I want to be smashed inside of it with three other people. Kate said the trip would be a good chance for me to get to know more about my in laws. She was right. I learned that Mac drives like a grandma. The first leg of our journey from Salt Lake to Rawlins, Wyoming took quite a long time. I also learned that his wife, Melissa drives much faster. She took the wheel for the first leg of the return trip. Each time I looked at the speedometer while she was driving I could see that we were pushing triple digits and she was hunched over the steering wheel muttering something like “It’s okay babies…Momma’s on her way….” It was her first trip away from her kids, and she was in a hurry to get back to them. I haven’t known Scott long, so I had the most to learn about him. I found that Scott has a pea-sized bladder. We weren’t into the trip an hour before we had to stop for a pee break. My kids do better on long trips. Scott also has Barry White, Linda Ronstadt and the 'Grease' soundtrack on his iPod. I’m a little concerned about that. Most importantly I learned that Scott doesn’t like to be touched, and has little experience dealing with drunken people.

But more on that later.

Sunday morning Jim and Pilu made us a huge breakfast, and then we layered up and headed for Invesco field at mile high. I was worried that I had too many layers on, because the sun was out and it was warm. But later I would be thankful that I had so many articles of clothing. Denver, as I’m sure you know, has had a lot of snow, and most of it was still caked onto the streets and sidewalks. We took the light rail from the Christiansen’s to the stadium, along with thousands of our best friends.

I had never been to an NFL game before that day, and the largest stadium I had ever seen was the Rose Bowl, where as a kid I saw Pink Floyd in concert. I was stunned by the enormity of Invesco. To say that it is huge doesn’t do justice. And it is nice and clean. Our seats were on the visitor’s side, just off the end zone. We were close enough to read the player’s names from their jerseys when they were in the red zone. We were also in the sun for the first half, and I was glad that I had brought my ball cap instead of just a stocking hat.
The first half of the game was disappointing. Though the Broncos were up 13-3 at the half we were frustrated that both trips to the end zone had seen first-and-goals and ended up with only field goals. The only Bronco touchdown was scored by the defense on the turnover. I have to admit I was torn. I wanted the Broncos to win and get into the playoffs, but I also wanted to see 49ers QB Alex Smith do well. The last time I had seen Smith play was when he started his final home game for the University of Utah in Rice/Eccles stadium in Salt Lake. After the Utes throttled BYU (ha-ha!) to complete their undefeated season and lock up a trip to the Fiesta Bowl we helped to carry Smith around the field. So you can understand my dilemma.

Though the game was disappointing in the first half, the excitement in the stands around us made up for it. I had never been to a professional sporting event outside of sheltered Salt Lake City, and I was expecting to see new and wondrous things. I was not disappointed. During the first quarter I discovered that Scott doesn’t like to be touched when the woman sitting behind us started running her hands over his hair. Scott’s hair is cut short, and perfectly coiffed. He politely asked her to stop, and when she didn’t he lightly began slapping her hand away. She kept pestering him about whether or not he was in the military and why he wouldn’t let her touch. It was obvious that she was drunk. When she arrived her friend even commented “I’m glad you made it. You’re usually passed out by now.” The drunk asked me about why he wouldn’t let her touch, and not wanting to make a scene I told her that his wife wouldn’t appreciate it if she saw it on TV, which was true.

I could tell that Scott was getting upset, so I tried to take the heat off of him. I didn’t know what I was getting into. I asked Scott, “Do you want my hat? She won’t want to play with my hair because I don’t have any.” She heard me, and began to play with the hair sticking out from the bottom of my ball cap. When I was in first grade Mrs. VanBlankenstein told me that if someone was annoying you, that you should ignore them. Then when they see that you are not bothered by them, they will get bored and bother someone else. I tried to apply that logic here, to no avail. I let her play with my hair while I attempted to keep track of the game. She then began to play with my ears, rubbing them. I was just waiting for a camera to point at me and have Kate see some woman fondling me. It wouldn’t have gone over well.

She then leaned up and asked “I’ll bet I could make your nipples hard.” Her breath reeked of beer. I tried to think of a stinging comeback while Scott turned red. Before I could think of a retort her hand shot down the front of my shirt and she gave my nip a little squeeze. To add insult to injury her hands were icy cold and leathery. I grabbed her arm and dragged it back out.

I felt those cold hands on the back of my neck and her breath on my ear. “I’m disappointed I didn’t get your nipples hard.” said she. Her hand shot down again, but I was the quicker. I grabbed my shirt collar and twisted it, preventing another unauthorized entry. She kept at it through most of the first half. I was the recipient of half a dozen wet willies.
At one point she leaned over me to get a beer from beer man, and I got a good look at her. She was nasty. That made the violation even worse. I heard her tell the beer man that she was 45. If she admitted to 45 she was at least 50. That made it even worse. She had a stud in her nose. That made it even worse. She was nearly old enough to be my mother, and acting like a fool. Just before half time I looked over to see her about to lick the back of Scott’s neck. She was about an inch away, looking at me. I just shook my head, and she backed off. That would have been the last straw. Scott would have punched her, I am sure of it.

At half time she disappeared, never to return. I am sure she passed out somewhere. Before she left, her girlfriend leaned up and told me that she wanted to talk to my wife and tell her how cool I was because, as she put it I was “putting up with a lot of shit and handling it well.” I told her that I would never forget this game.

We were left to watch the second half unmolested (literally) but we did see a fight between Broncos fans just in front of us. The Broncos scored late in the 4th quarter to send the game into overtime, where they lost on a 49ers field goal. We had a good time, and even though they lost it was great to be there and yell with the crowd “In-Com-Plete!” when the 49ers dropped a pass. The Broncos loss meant that they are out of the post season, but that wasn’t the greatest loss. The next morning as we were headed home Kate called to tell us that Darrent Williams, cornerback for the Broncos, who we had seen play the night before had been shot and killed outside a party for Kenyon Martin. The details are at http://sports.espn.go.com/nfl/news/story?id=2716385 It is strange to think that I had just seen him the night before he was killed. It’s a real tragedy.

But our sports excursion didn’t end with the Broncos loss. We left Invesco field and walked directly over to the Pepsi Center to see the Denver Nuggets host the Dallas Mavericks. Jim and Pilu already had tickets, so Scott and I had them pick us up a couple and tagged along. Mac and Melissa split off from us at this point. They had “other business” to attend to.

Our seats were in the upper bowl, and I was shocked how small the Pepsi Center looked in comparison to the Delta Center (er, I mean Energy Solutions Arena). But the reason it looked so small to me was that I had just come from the 74,000 seat Invesco. Of course a 20,000 seat arena would look small. As soon as we were seated Scott and I began stripping down. We each took off about ten layers of clothing just to keep from sweating to death and I was regretting the extra pair of socks I had on. But the layers had been handy at the football game, as the temperature dropped after the sun disappeared at half time. And when it was getting cold I didn’t have my ‘girlfriend’ to keep me warm. I can’t believe I just said that.

Anyway, the basketball game was good fun. I have always wanted to see a game at another arena. Again I was torn. I wanted to root root root for the home team, but the home team is in the same division as my Jazz, so I needed them to lose, to help my team. Another reason I struggled to cheer for the Nuggets can be better explained if you see my blog post from 12/16/06. The Mavericks were playing without Dirk Nowitzki, but it didn’t matter. Dallas is just too good, and beat the Nuggets despite an impressive night from Allen Iverson. I guess Scott and I are bad luck for Denver professional teams. I wanted to stay an extra night just to see an Avalanche game and test my theory.

Since I had been wearing a ball cap all day I didn’t want to take it off because of ‘hat hair’, so I left it on. It has a Jazz logo on it, which earned me many dirty looks from the Nuggets’ faithful, including a snide comment from the guy who sold me my overpriced cheese steak sandwich.

We left the Pepsi Center and walked to old downtown Denver to get some dessert from the Cheesecake Factory. I love that place. If you go, try the chocolate raspberry truffle. It is so choice. On our way there we saw a guy and his date both slip and go down while crossing the street. It is not nice to laugh at others’ injuries, but it was too funny not to.
There was a long wait at the Cheesecake factory, so by the time we were done it was nearly midnight, and we filed out into the street to watch the firework show. It was a really impressive display.

We packed into a light rail train to get back to Jim and Pilu’s house. It was like a sardine can. The smell was a combination of several kinds of alcohol, stale perfume and just a hint of vomit. It was not altogether unpleasant. There were several college age kids singing oldies songs together in the middle of the car. On one end of the car, just behind the operator, one guy was yelling at the guy sitting across from him. “Shut up! You don’t know me. You can’t say that! Say that one more time and I’m going to pound your ass! Say it! Come on!” I was sure the argument was going to come to blows and was disappointed that it did not. On the other end of the car, two young ladies, who were pouring our of their blouses were sitting in between a dirty old man, fondling him and trying to get a picture of the two of them kissing him on the cheeks at the same time. (The cheeks on his face, by the way). He was soaking it in. It was a vile scene. During one of the stops, Scott and I had to step off the train to allow an elderly woman off. Just before I stepped back on the train I looked down to see a man helping his friend, who was unable to walk. The man being assisted had sharted. If you don’t know what a shart is, go to www.urban.dictionary.com and look it up. But this guy had more than just sharted. The whole back of his pants was covered. The guy helping him must have been a true friend. At another stop, we looked over to see that the eastbound train had also pulled into the station. The eastbound train was empty except for a trio of young men, none of which appeared to be over 18. The three boys had a giant bottle of tequila, which they held up in salute when they realized that we were looking at them.

I am eternally grateful to Jim and Pilu for giving us the football tickets. I think that they are just great people. Because they gave us those tickets I was able to get away and have a great short trip and experience things that you just don’t get to have in Salt Lake…