From May 30 to June 5, I and my comrades from Stony Brook ventured to Colorado to bear witness to the wedding of Regina and Richard. But first, we had to get there.

Day 1 — Heavy Drinking Ahoy!

Five of us set out on the same flight from podunk Long Island MacArthur Airport to the giant airport in Denver. The inside of the building was nice and modern-looking, but the outside was supposed to look like the Rocky Mountains. It looked more like the world’s largest tent.

The real misadventures began when we arrived at the rental car place. We were going to rent a conversion van, but these things won’t seat more than seven with no luggage, and we were eight with luggage. So we got upgraded to a Chevy Suburban. I don’t think I fathomed how big it was until we got up next to a minivan and dwarfed it. Think Canyonero.

None of this was as difficult as finding somewhere to eat in Denver with my friends Charity and Daniel. Bombing around the local mall, with great difficulty we managed to find a Mexican place staffed predominately by young attractive blonde women.

However, this Mexican food was malicious, and would strain the ties of our party, as I developed horrible, horrible gas that everyone in the car had to suffer through for hours until we got to the hotel, and beyond.

That night we arrived we discovered that the Howard Johnson’s at Nevada Avenue and 25 is the nicest hotel on that stretch. Given that the competition was the 4U Motel, which looked abandoned but definitely was not, this is not fierce competition. There were two noteworthy things about this hotel that came up that night: the first was that on our trip to the liquor store to load up, I’m pretty sure I saw a hooker get hired, and then in some of the rooms people in our crew got an hospitality package of men and women’s deodorant, a small bottle of K-Y massage and personal lubricant, and two samples of Neosporin oral herpes treatment. We were living in class here. But, the night ended and we went on to

Day 2 — The Wedding & Reception

After a night of heavy drinking, we awoke to our mediocre continental breakfast, and the day of the wedding. Looking dapper, we arrived to the local Catholic church to watch a fire and brimstone Irish Catholic who apparently got exported directly to Colorado purely to make Richard uncomfortable preside over the ceremony and a Mass that followed. Having never seen I Catholic ceremony before, I was impressed by the pageantry and ceremony of it all. After the wedding, we were confused for a bunch of high school graduates by the local CVS people, and began day 2 of Jan and my quest to find flasks for the wedding.

Oddly enough, family values oriented Wal-Mart was the place to go to find the alcohol paraphernalia. Succeeding at this, we embarked to the site of the reception in Manitou Springs.

Manitou Springs reminds me strongly of Gatlinburg, Tennessee, in that it’s a tourist trap set against a beautiful mountain backdrop. Continue after the bump.

Eventually, Jan’s German instincts led him to a bar, while the rest of us continued to wander about, killing time before the reception. At one point, I stuck Mike and Andy talking to some Navy veteran who was literally sitting around on a bench waiting for someone to talk to him. Epic.

Then came time for the reception, what we were all waiting for. The first thing we noticed was that we were seated as far away from the bride and groom as physically possible while still being in the same room. The second thing we noticed was that the chilled fruit soup would go well with vodka. A clear combination presented itself, and Jan and I indulged. Jan also indulged himself by putting an extra shot or two of vodka into my screwdriver while I was in the bathroom. Thanks, guys.

When it was dance floor time, I pretty much got into the zone and didn’t leave. I was dripping sweat and going through water like a madman, but if the photos are any indication, I rule. Night ends, and we go back to the hotel for further drinking.

Day 3 — A Snake in the Grass

Julia was leaving Monday morning, so we hit the sack earlier than planned, exhausted. I was awoken to the sound of plumbing being manipulated. Julia had dropped a hard contact into the sink and her solution, rather than call a plumber or something, was to disassemble the entire sink with her bare hands. She did a thorough job of it, but required a monkey wrench to finish the job. Lo, her contact was lost, and Josh couldn’t re-assemble the sink, which was left in that state when we checked out. It was amusing having all our toothbrushery dumped in a bucket then put down the toilet every night. Wooo.

This was the day of hiking. For those who know me, I am not an outdoorsy type, so this was a bit interesting. We started the day at a rather delicious barbecue place in Manitou Springs, and I disappeared to take a shit. Of course this took longer than expected, so the assumption amongst those not privy to my activity is that I had taken some privacy to avail myself of a “porn” Google search in my iPhone. I wish.

Suzanne’s affection for brochures led us to Garden of the Gods, an impressive hike through red sandstone rock formations, and the source of the biggest rush of panic I’ve had in a while. As we were concluding the hike and making it to the visitor’s center, where surely there MUST be a shuttle to take us to the other side of the park, the unmistakable sound of a disgruntled rattlesnake from under a bush made me jump, and if eyewitness accounts are to be trusted, the three foot Western Diamondback was about two or three feet away from Jan’s and my legs. Crazy.

After regrouping and doing an about face to the car, we discovered that I suck at putting sun block on the back of my neck. The skin is still flaking off a bit in the shower.

We were staying in Colorado Springs, so of COURSE we had to drive up Pike’s Peak. Which is precarious when you cram nine people into a Chevy Suburban, and drive up a road full of hairpin turns and switchbacks, and no guard rails. At around 11,000 or 12,000 feet, I’m not sure if it was a panic attack due to my crippling fear of heights coupled with altitude sickness, or altitude sickness exacerbated by the fear of heights, by my hands, feet and face went numb, my arms went completely white, and my face turned red, and we had to stop while I regained my breath. This counts with the food poisoning as one of the scariest medical moments of my life.

We did eventually make it to the top, and I got to partake in the group photo. Which was difficult since I decided to sprint about twenty yards at 14,110 feet, which was ill advised. Regardless, we made it down alive and concluded our day with the “best burgers in Manitou Springs”, which if this boast is correct, I feel for the fine citizens of Manitou Springs.

Dave had decided to buy a BUNCH of beer and wine for the after party, which didn’t happen and we had about 33 beers and a large bottle of cheap white wine. Myself, Jan, Heather, Megan and Dave demolished this, as Mike and Andy had left for the airport earlier in the day. Staggering back to my hotel room at 3:30 AM, Josh opened the door for me, I walked in, proclaimed “We drank 33 beers and a bottle of wine. I’m wasted.” and proceeded to collapse onto the bed and sleep for about seven hours. Noticing a trend?

Day 4 — Taking a Golden Shower

The next day, we returned to Denver International Airport and Three Ring Circus, and after Jan and Heather dropped off the Monstrosity, Josh, Suzanne and I proceeded to Payless and acquired the Midget, a 2008 Chevy Cobalt, and struck out west for the town of Golden, home of Coors and the Colorado School of Mines.

Josh and Suzanne were feeling the after-effects of being three miles above sea level, and the day went a little sluggish. We did manage to take the Coors Brewery Tour, which was narrated by one of the most longwinded electronic recordings ever. All drunk out (yeah I know, hard to believe, right?), I couldn’t take advantage of the full compliment of free beer I was offered. After the brewery tour, we retreated to our home away from home at the Golden Hotel.

If the Howard Johnson’s was a Waffle House t-bone steak, the Golden Hotel was a well aged filet mignon. The hotel room was bigger than my living space in my house, the view was to the Table Mountains, and it was right over Golden. We settled in, and set out on a hike up North Table Mountain.

Now, North Table Mountain is not terribly high, but the gradient was pretty horrible, and we were all pretty tired when we reached the top. Despite my fear of heights, I decided to try my hand at rock climbing, but that was quickly dashed when Suzanne dropped a head sized rock that would have hit my right shoulder if Josh hadn’t warned me to move my ass. I decided to take the service road the rest of the way up.

The top revealed why it was named Table Top Mountain. We must have walked over a mile to get to the other side and take photos of Denver, and then took a long way back around. We were all exhausted by the time we got back to the hotel, and after consulting with Regina, we went to The Yard House for dinner.

Josh and Suzanne weren’t feeling hungry, their altitude sickness was a more prolonged affair than mine, but I must say that the filet I had there was probably one of the five best steaks I’ve ever had. Kudos to Regina for recommending it.

Jeers to Golden for having the ENTIRE westbound part of the highway shut down.

Day 5 — Return to the Island of the Apes

The next morning, it was time to finish our trip with a visit to the Colorado School of Mines. Whoever handles Stony Brook’s campus should take some notes because Mines is a gorgeous campus. After buying a shirt with Faroukh Al-Blastir the Jihad Donkey on it, I went to Regina’s old Physics department and asserted my dominance over the area, and we departed for the airport to return to Long Island.

The Denver area is absolutely spectacular. I am seriously planning a return trip for later this year or early next year to check out Denver proper, and it’s true to say that I would thoroughly enjoy living in Denver.