Ah, here we are, at Denver International Airport. Lovely, isn't it? I got to know it well, as did alot of folks, who, like me, ended up stranded there during what was called "one of the worst storms in history" to hit the area. I just narrowly missed escape; the only reason I ended up in Denver on December 20th, when the storm started, was because my flight on Dec 19th from LA to Denver ( en route to Saint Louis) had technical problems, and was delayed. By the time we arrived in Denver, all the flights to secondary places were full. The airline begrudgingly put us up in a hotel, assuring us that the next day, we'd be first on a plane out. They didn't count on the blizzard that hit during the wee small hours of the night. It was snowing when their shuttle brought us back to the airport, but no one actually thought it might be so bad we all might not get out. Oh, if we had known: surely, we would have stayed in the damned hotel. Alas....

Just a quick view of the runways that day ( and well into the night). Frozen, with a few plows trying to make fruitless efforts. No planes. No cars. Snow coming down for the next 24 hours, steady.

I was given a standby ticket by the airlines and told to come to the airport the next morning and see if any flights were leaving. Problem was, there were not alot of nearby hotels or any other places to go ( believe it or not!!! The airport is several miles from any actual amenities!) . Adding to the dillemma, the airlines refused to pay for any more lodging or food or transporation, claiming "an act of god." All in all, even faced with a fun night of discomfort, I felt it smarter to just suck it up and spend the night on the floor, with 1500 or so of my closest pals. My tickets were first come, first serve, and I didn't want to lose a good, early shot at leaving. I staked out a carpeted area near the esclators for maximum comfort and quiet. A few people tried to snatch it from me, or crowd me out of the space. It made me realize how homeless people must feel every day: that your belongings and your safe spot might be stolen out from under you, which makes for alot of stress and feeling very territorial. I learned alot about empathy that day.

My neighbors sharing my Prime Piece of Real Estate were a father and son team out of Montana, and a guy whose destination WAS Denver, but couldn't get a car to take him to his location. What's nice is that they and others were very good about guarding your stuff if you needed to go to the bathroom or get a cup of coffee and didn't want to lost your space by taking all your luggage with you. After some of the inital mayhem and jockeying for good spots for the night, things got more civil. People really did look out for each other, which was pretty surprising and good to see.

Once it was announced that all flights were cancelled for the day, some people rustled around and tried to get hotel rooms or rent cars. I don't know the success/failure ratio, but I do know that pretty much all the hotels ended up totally booked. We were warned that the snow might not stop and the likelyhood of getting transporation back to the airport the next day was slim. Like I said, I really wanted to secure my place in line for the soonest flight out the next morning , and I didn't want to get stranded at a 2nd hotel. Of course the next day I found out the soonest I was going to get the hell out of Denver was the 24th ( 3 days later). That's when I started to do my own rallying and rustling around.

People literally sleeping in line for the ticket agent. Not everyone was so lucky or took the announcements about spending the night in the airport seriously as me, so they didn't get a nice carpeted spot. The Red Cross did show up but all they gave were blankets. No cots unless you were over 65, no food, no water. The food court made a mint on those who could afford it. If you couldn't, well, you were shit out of luck. Nice, huh?

Me in my slippers. After a certain point, I just said, "fuck it. If I'm stuck here, I might as well get comfy. "

Thank GOD for the Ramada Inn, which was one of the only hotels left in Denver that had any rooms. The people who left after the first delay because of snow and took to the hotels en masse, were the most fortunate, while the rest of us fools were talked into spending the night in the airports by the airlines. I won't tell you the stupid, cluster-fuck of a story it took to find and secure this room in the middle of this whole disaster, or the stupid cluster-fuck of a story that had the airport refusing to try provide transit for me and at least 200 others to get to it . I'll just say this: when the airlines say they care, they don't. And they have no idea what they are doing from one counter to the next. Makes me feel all secure and warm inside just thinking of it.
Anyway, when we finally got to the hotel, the driveway was full of snow, so we had to traipse up about a 1/4 of a mile to get to the front. I swear, by the time I got checked in I didn't know whether to eat, shower or sleep first. I eventually ended up going to dinner in my pajamas after a hot shower. Nobody thought anything of it, to their credit.

After 5 days in Denver, this is pretty much all I saw of it, not counting the rides to and from the airport and the airport itself. This is the last picture I took before going back to the airport yet again and boarding the flight to STL. The roads are finally clear, as you can see...

HOORAY! Praise the Lord and sing Hallelujah, I finally made it to my destination on Christmas Eve. Here's my parent's tree standing to welcome me as I collapsed in the door and kissed the ground. Needless to say, presents were exchanged and food was consumed and I slept and slept and slept. Happily.

Skipping ahead, what's New Year's Eve without a party at Kevin's house? It's his birthday, actually, so he always has a party, and for the last 10 years I've been either at one, or wishing I was! Here he is with his fabulous wife Andrea, who's wearing a fun party hat to mark the occasion.

Let no one say that wild times have diminished since we've all grown up and for some of us, had kiddos. Here's Kevin's friend plying another friend's son with a cupcake. After midnight. In his defense, he IS a baker, but man, oh man. Giving a kid sugar after 5pm is playing with fire. And not even your own kid! I hope his conscience rests easy!

Kevin's best friend ( and a good friend of mine, too!) Garth and his new wife, Leila. Proof that there are happy ever afters waiting when you least expect them.

After New Year's, I decided to hang around and about and just catch up with old friends and see what was going on in both my hometown and in the fair city of Saint Louis, where I lived before I moved to La-La Land. I spent one evening catching up with my friend B at the local drag shows. This lovely dame makes a fairly convincing drag queen, wouldn't you say?

...and drag KINGS, let's not forget! This young lady was so convincing, even I, with the laser-sharpcross-dressing dectection I developed in my hanging-out-in subculture youth, could barely tell he was a she. That's true artistry, right there!
But I did other things, too, like....

....having lunch with my dear friend R, at our old haunt The Bread Company,where we used to eat their fabulous Fandango Salad at least 3x a week.

...And FINALLY seeing my brother's band, The Collinsville All-Stars, play. They're hilarious and campy and actually really talented. It was great.

Me and Rob post show. Mad love for the fam, y'know? Word.

One night I decided to drive around and take photos of all the amusing things that my hometown just has hanging around. I didn't get to most of it, but I managed to snap pics of a few things that make me bust a gut every time. This one requires some explaining: his name is Curtis Blood, and he's a lawyer, and I cannot believe he decided to go with his own name on a personal injury practice. Frankly, it doesn't inspire me to trust my case with him. My brother also reports that people from the nearby, predominantly African-American housing projects also found his sign confusing: they wanted to know if he represented gang members, namely Bloods ( as in Bloods and Crips. For the record, the answer was that he had no association with that faction.). I don't know if this guy does big business or what, but that sign has been there for at least 7 or 8 years now. Go figure.

Alright, this takes some 'splainin' as well. We have this furniture store Downtown, Home Furniture. For DECADES their big sales pitch was " Home Furniture: No Monkey Business!" (I guess they meant with delivery charges, et al, whatever? ) They had these terrible local commercials where some dude would be dressed up in a monkey suit in a variety of odd scenarios meant to back up their claim ( AND, I found out, they hand out these little stuffed guys to school kids). I didn't think much of it, really, til I went away to college ( over 200 miles away, thank you!) and when I'd say where I was from, I was almost instantly responded to with "Hey! I know that place! NO MONKEY BUSINESS!!! This continued on when I moved to Saint Louis at 24, and believe it or not, I've had a few "No Monkey Business!" encounters OUT HERE IN L.A. *Sigh*. They say you can't go home again, but that doesn't mean it won't follow you wherever you end up....

The Ketchup Bottle: Collinsville's finest landmark. You'll notice the picture is fuzzy; that's because some say the Ketchup Bottle posesses mystical powers that radiate from it to the surrounding areas. Don't believe me? See for yourself at www.catsupbottle.com .....

Over the river and through the highways, back in my other 'hood, here's namesake Tower as in "Tower Grove Park". Hard to believe, but from which I once lived blocks away and to which many of my friends still live adjacent. It commemorates Somebody for Something Important, although I couldn't tell you what. Usually because I'm always struck by the phallic nature of it to be pondering the whys and wherefores.

Me being artsy and taking a picture of The Tower through my rainy windshield. I left my hometown with much gratitude for the love and good times that buoyed me up, to return to L.A. shortly thereafter. (Which, to continue our backward flashback, brings us to Thanksgiving.)

November, 2006: to recap, I was barely feeling functional from the whole Breakup/Griffin Dying/Contracting EBV Cabaret of Pain when my friends Bob and Debbie scooped me up and took me to see friends in LA who would certainly cheer me up. The view certainly did. So did the ensuing Thanksgiving spread. I was extremely thankful for their friendship, and being warmly accepted in their plans, when I most needed it. Such compassionate people are they, and that's always a blessing in and of itself.

And so, THIS is where I spent Thanksgiving: Marina Del Ray, CA. So called because it's right on the Marina! It was a lovely escape from the city and the food was great. Not too shabby, huh?. In the midst of chaos, I felt very grateful for friendships and kindnesses of all shapes and kinds. You really can't ask for much else in life that's too much greater, I think!
Your backward scenic tour through the last couple months is over! Hope you have enjoyed, and I promise I won't be so late on the forthcoming adventures....