Upon the entrance of Telluride, Colorado, we were stopped for about 45 minutes. We thought for a moment there might be a quota on the town. An Audi full of rowdy women occupied our front view; they were shaking their blow-up doll man out the sunroof, waving to the construction workers. Lewis Black kept us company over the mp3 player.
Due to our unexpected delay, we arrived at the free campsite after dark to see that it was apparently FULL. Persistent travelers do not give up because of signs. We kept our cat-eyes out for an open parking spot and/or patch of dirt to erect the tent. When we finally found the perfect open space, neighbors of it came up and tried to pop our bubble: "Three people have already tried that and have been booted." Christoph kindly asked them what would be the best maneuvering we could pull so as not to be the fourth. Our new neighbors, Dave and Andy, lent us their lantern to pitch the tent as far back behind as many trees as possible. Within ten minutes, we were all set up and on our way to free illegal camping. Christoph told me to grab all my stuff and put it in the tent, and I told him I had it all. He was baffled that I had packed a Polaroid camera, two squirt guns and even a plastic lizard but failed to pack camping gear. Thankfully, he lent me a sweater and we decided not to worry about it until after we got back from town.
Fly Me to the Moon Saloon was just opening up and allowed us to check out the band before committing with a cover charge. We hopped on the foosball table and I killed him thrice. To pet his ego a little bit, I allowed him to beat me in pool a few times at The Sheridan down the street.
The walk back the tent was feasible; though we'd shared a few pitchers, we had flashlights to navigate the way. Besides, every star in the sky was shining down - every star. Had I not been so tired from the trip, I would have sat in a swing and watched for meteors.
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