I grew up in a logging town; never had good manners, an actual hillbilly at heart. I’m not proud of that; well, actually I am. That’s how hillbillies are. Let’s just say I can’t help it.
By the time we got into downtown Aspen, it was warming up quickly. I still had on 4 layers from the trip over the pass and now I was way too hot.
Karla had gone over to get our passes to ride the tram, and I was on a sidewalk bench changing clothes. I now realize that in the line of parked Ferraris and Maseratis, a motorcycle and a guy stripping on the sidewalk would draw attention.
I must say the Aspen Police respond quickly to such offenses. They arrived in cars and on Segway’s, I expected a hoverboarding Sargent next. Well, I wasn’t indecent, but I was a little out of place.
I would like to say this was the 1st time in my life I’ve been surrounded by police, but it wasn’t. Remembering how those previous experiences turned out, a bit of clarity came over me.
Explaining that your family owns a house in town goes a long way in determining right from wrong. My favorite author, Hunter Thompson used to live here, they’ve seen bizarre.
With my newly elevated level of respect, I considered asking if they could do anything about the condition of the sidewalk. Everyone was now smiling, I kept my mouth shut.
Got away without even a parking ticket.