Aspen part 3: rage and recovery
The end of day four. There were hundreds of us in Aspen for the retreat, and as you could expect from professional organizers’ vacation, there were endless events, dinners and soirees. A sampling: The Communist Party, as before mentioned Gay Brunch, The Day of Sloth, Eastern European Dinner, Pretty Princess Party (female-only, which was a source of discontent at the Gay Brunch) and so on. I attended some, sometimes by accident. As shown below, the college team’s cocktail party spilled over to our condo. A lazy evening turned in seconds from this:
Later that evening was the annual dance party, in which the local Aspen night club closes its doors to anyone but retreat attendees. I opted instead to join a splinter group to a “jazz trio” show. Which sounded great, but could more accurately be described as “Phish with a saxophone.” Still, it was fun watching people on drugs dance under fancy lights and listen to 20 minute songs with no melody. And all of my favorite people were there.
Still, I did opt to sneak away to the dance party toward the end of the evening. When I walked in the door of the club, the words “Holy. Fucking. Shit.” uncontrollably spilled out. There were hundreds of white people of all ages packed onto a dance floor. Of all ages. Shaking it. Sexy dancing. Wasted. I’ve been here before. This is spring break. I ran into Kristen, who encouraged me to join them. “I think I’m way to sober for this,” I said. “You better pound some drinks. It’s after midnight.” So I did. And I danced. And had a great time. And fell.
The night ended up at Gavin’s place (in the tan hat). More specifically in Gavin’s bed.
The next morning I decided to venture to the famed Aspen Health Club, where I had free passes all week. I wanted to wear a big fluffy white robe. I wanted to take a schvitz. I wanted to swim a few laps amid snow. I wanted to nap with a book on my stomach. I succeeded on all counts, and decided that this was the place for me. White robes, flip-flops, fireplaces and hot tubs. This is vacation. This is to relax. I have no pictures of the health club interior, because people do not like other people taking pictures of their privates.