The Suburban Zoo Comes to Town

The annual festival that I refer to as the "Waste of Colorado" is clogging my downtown Denver with a parade of suburban riff-raff with a few hot chicks included in the mix. Junk food is sold as a delicacy and mediocre musical groups on several stages rule the Labor Day weekend, with the exception of a central stage presenting top international talent.

It has been years since I walked the few blocks to attend this event so yesterday I decided to have a couple of beers in the hot sun, in the thick of the freak show. Leaning against a large utility pole with a beer in one hand, checking for e-mails from UTRs with the other, a very nice, slightly older gentleman and I struck up a conversation. He began with a line about both of us "holding up the pole."

I guided the conversation to pooning, asking him how many hookers he would guess were attending the festival at that moment. His guess as well over my estimate of twenty, adding that with the present economy, that number would not include the volume of ladies who would sell their pussies.

So the guy pulls out his Blackberry and shows me a picture of his hot wife, 25 years his junior. I congratulated him profusely. Unfortunately, his lady was not with him. They live in Casper, Wyoming and she had the good taste not to come to the festival. Here is a man older, fatter and uglier than I, with a hot ass young wife waiting for him in Casper. And here I am having to jack off to internet porn until I can see my Latina model again.
A side note: This is infinitely better than being married.

After we shook hands I went back to another beer booth for my second Blue Moon. As I was beginning to get a little hungry, I tossed my empty cup into a designated trash receptacle and headed off to find some lunch. For this I had to leave the festival.

The Sheraton has a bar serving appetizers with an enormous glass wall through which to view the 16th Street Mall traffic. For the sake of continuity I ordered another Blue Moon with my calamari and Asian dumplings.

After enjoying the free zoo parade, I hopped a cab to a cigar shop and bought a $10 Cubano. From there I walked to a bar for another Blue Moon. This is back in my neck of the woods, as I had had enough of the 'Waste' for one day.

Facing the entrance, I spot a hot looking young lady enter the bar. She was headed in my direction so I assumed she was meeting some friends in a different part of the room. She looked a little like the actress, Fairuza Balk, whom, oddly enough, had played a bit part as a prostitute/junkie in the movie, "Things to do in Denver When You're Dead."

It is not my custom to stare so I re focused my attention on my beer. It takes me less than half a second to size up a woman whom I am not going to have sex with. Usually within milliseconds I make the assessment, "hot chick at three o'clock" and then go about my business. I lose interest well before they realize they've been evaluated and forgotten.

Suddenly I feel a pair of tiny hands caressing my back. This was reminiscent of a time when a woman would touch me for free. I must say, it was a very pleasurable three-quarters of a second. The young girl told me that she knew rock promoter Barry Fey, asked me if I was a musician and then dropped a name which I did not recognize.

Next, came an unusual request. If I remember correctly, her car had been blocked in, making it impossible for her to leave. When she returned, her car had been towed (or something of that nature). She needed $300 for getting her car out of impound (or something like that). There were several other old guys in the bar, but I am the only one she asked for a gift of cash.

I stammered, "I don't have the $300 at the moment..." but just then the bartender asked to see her ID. At this, she waved her hands in frustration and abruptly left the establishment.

"...but I live a block away and I'm sure there's a way you can earn that money," was the second part of my sentence which she never got to hear.

For the next 45 minutes, two young guys and I had a lot of fun discussing the event as well as women's monetary avarice and prostitution in general. It was good to laugh and joke about such a universal irony.

One of the young men quoted his grandpa as once having said, "Women - they either cost fifty dollars of fifty years." Apparently that statement was made during a quite different economy.

In ancient Rome, one would have said, "Women - they either cost fifty denarius or fifty years." But then, few people survived past 50 in ancient Rome, let alone suffered marriages lasting that long.

What does all of this have to do with the damn food festival? Not much. I was there for about half an hour. I quickly left the Waste of Colorado after my second beer to go have lunch, buy a good cigar and get hustled for a $300 cash gift (for no pussy).

Shit, I can hardly wait to drill my slender UTR Latina model again in another day or two.