There’s nothing like waking up after a long winter’s nap on the tour bus to a message in the tour group chat that says, “sharted my pants…and am now walking around without boxers on.” Believe it or not, this occurs more often on the road than one might imagine. Tour buses had a strict “no pooping” rule, and in the hopes of letting out a little gas while you find the nearest bathroom, sometimes you shart yourself.
This hasn’t happened to me, primarily because I rarely drink on the road. Morning tour sharts are usually the result of gnarly food, too much alcohol, and a lengthy search for a public bathroom. I’m unsure what the cause was in this case and didn’t ask. And while I won’t reveal which member of the band/crew left their underwear in the trash can of the bathroom of a “fancy bookstore,” I will only say that they genuinely “left their mark” in Telluride.
This week is Telluride is Gay Ski Week. West Colorado Avenue was aflame with pride. Nearly every store and business displays some level of pride support; a rainbow flag in the window of a bookstore, rainbow pride hats and clothing, rainbow dog toys at the pet shop, or the phrase ‘love is love” spread across the upstairs windows of a local coffee shop, all encouraging examples of a community choosing to let love flourish.
As I strolled through the streets of Telluride for the first time, a feeling of gratitude manifested as a cheeky grin. While touring is not a paid vacation, the experience does allow me to explore parts of the country that I couldn’t see otherwise. Jumping from a metro city like Denver to a college town like Boulder to a ski town like Telluride exposes you to various people, often before doors.
I had a fairly pleasant time in Telluride, until after the show. On the quarter-mile hike to the hotel to shower, I hit a pack of ice and busted my ass. Well, my shoulder, actually. But regardless, I’m shocked Telluride isn’t that land of slip-and-fall lawsuits. A city ordinance, which I couldn’t easily find online to quote, bans using chemicals to treat snow or ice on streets and sidewalks. Popular opinion is that this ruling is to prevent dangerous chemicals from melting into the groundwater. However, conspiracists theorize the ban has more to do with protecting the high-end cars of Telluride’s citizens and visitors than it does with protecting the city’s environment. Whatever the reason, my shoulder is sore, and my ego is highly bruised. I’m just glad no one was there to see me fall.
As Todd reminded me via text message this morning, “slipping and falling at an advanced age is scary.” And he’s not wrong. Every time I fall on ice, my first is always, “fuck, I hope I didn’t break my hip.” I’ll rest the injury for the next few days. Grab some Icy Hot or Tiger Balm to help relieve some of the strain. A two-night run in Steamboat Springs will certainly help the cause. I’m not sure what lesson the universe is trying to teach me, and while my limited mobility certainly sucks, I know one thing is for sure. The situation could be worse. At least when I fell, I didn’t shit my pants.
