Flatland Thoughts

We are back from the mountains. The “high” you get from being in altitude is more than thin-air lightheadedness. More likely, the fresh air lends some clarity to the thinking. Maybe it is rooted the difference in air pressure or even gravity. Something physical happens when you are in high country that releases some pleasant substance that seems to lubricate one’s brain and mood.

Almost very problem seems petty when you are in the mountains. You cannot be in the presence of those rugged peaks and canyons and valleys without being aware of perspectives – of space and time. Your perceived problems are revealed as the insignificant moment of bother that they are. I have never met anyone out West who displayed symptoms of depression.

You feel like the message from the mountains is: “Life is short; get on with it. “

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I am almost feeling too mellow to write an angry letter to the Hampton Inn management to complain about our “lost” room. When we arrived in Louisville, Colorado (in the valley 15 miles east of the front range of the Rockies, near Boulder) on Friday night, we had a hotel booking confirmation # in hand. The desk clerk at the Hampton Inn informed us that we were not in his computer and there was “no room at the Inn.”

It was “family Weekend” for University of Colorado at Boulder so we had to scramble around to find another hotel with a vacant room. It was a one star place called Comfort Inn. They were friendly and helpful, and they gave us the AAA 5% discount. The fan in the room was loud, the walls were thin (reminiscent of a Paul Simon song called “Lincoln Duncan” - if you know what I mean.) There was a lot of low-budget partying going on in the halls and adjacent rooms. The smallish bed was uncomfortable.

So I got on Priceline the next morning and looked for available rooms in the area.
Guess who had rooms. Yep, the Hampton Inn. So I booked Sat and Sun nights
At the Priceline special rate. Which was cheaper than our original booked rate.

So, I figure the Hampton Inn owes us at least one peaceful night’s rest. Yet for some reason, I cannot summon my usual level of outrage to compose a nasty complaint letter that would result in heartfelt apologies and a generous voucher to compensate us for our troubles – and disappointment.

A few more days in the flatlands, and I'll be my old self again. Not to worry.