09
Dec
11

Mutants Squabble in Refrigerator Heaven

I’m freezing, I’m freezing,

I’m icicle blue

-Alice Cooper “Refrigerator Heaven”

It has been said that the best part of an adventure is not the end result, but the journey itself and I would stand in agreement with that statement. My meaningless drug induced trips to the nether regions of downtown Denver has uncovered very little hard news but has left me with unforgettable experiences and insight. The human drama unfolds before me like a twisted Dickens story where one observes, it is the best of times, is it the worst of times. I seem to be titillated with freudenshade, my obsession to watching these demonstrators against corporate America as they begin to evolve. After a few encouraging words from a reader of this blog I was convinced to tour the Occupy Denver site again to see how morale was holding out. The day prior to this brought below zero temperatures to the Mile High city and my curiosity did have me wondering how they were holding out down there.

The first part of my trip is fairly typical for the (still) working class of Denver who ride the light rail train to and from work. A diverse mix of individuals that one can see in most modern cities now days; aging women with wrist tattoos, business types tapping away on their phones sending messages into cyberspace. Across from me sits a guy who resembles the comedian George Lopez sharing a seat with Iggy Pop. Regular meat and potato crowd. In preparation for my jaunt downtown I made sure to grab my incognito bag which contains various electronic devices, a pipe and a bud of marijuana the size of a small mouse. I”m ready to roll folks but here is no place on this train to be lighting up so I get off at a very secluded drop point along my route and wander into some dark parking lot area to prepare myself. This place resembles the kind of hush hush setting where you’d expect someone to get knocked off, a drug deal gone bad or maybe some mafia types paying some back interest on a late loan. I blend in perfect with the scenery clutching my black bag of goodies like some psychotic Felix the Cat, out for a late night ganja break.

Two or three light rails whisk by me by the time I’m sufficiently medicated enough to get back on board. Before long the train snakes it’s way into a different side of Denver, the Bob and Carol out for drinks with friends part of Denver, Bubba Gump Shrimp company waving to onlookers, nice evening garb on well behaved folks. I get off in front of some convention arena that has this two and a half story blur bear peering in it’s window, a site beloved by tourists and extacy fans alike. Only a few blocks away lies Occupy Zombieland and the weather is still holding out for me. I opt to down a Starbucks coffee first to help the cold and to utilize their restroom; can’t be seen on the Occupy Denver premises with hot liquid, those monsters might take me down for warmth.

This is my last opportunity before launching into the bitter grounds of the protestors so I lock myself in the Starbuck’s restroom and light one more pipeful. I hear a couple waiting outside the door so I prepare myself for the inevitable facedown. A lot of people panic in the face of being discovered ‘high’ but I approach it with ease, no use to get unglued about things. I walk out of the bathroom and there stands an elderly Asian man and his daughter (I presume) waiting to get in and use the restroom. I give them a quick warning:

“Watch out, I think some kids have been smoking drugs in there”.

The old Asian man looks at me and nods but it’s one of those nods that says he understands I’m saying something, but he has no fucking idea what it is I’m saying. I could have said there was a dead squirrel in the toilet and got the same reaction. Now that I think about it, that would have really capped the evening off perfect; if only I had a dead squirrel. A dead squirrel in a Starbuck’s toilet, what more nightmarish image could that old man have taken? Would he stand there trying to figure if I ate the squirrel or what?

The coffee and pot flowed through me in equal portions and I was now ready to face the wicked depths of Refrigerator Heaven. Onto the shuttle for four more blocks and I would be at the corner of Broadway and Colfax to peer in, once again, on the arena of political zombies.

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