Cuddling my steaming cup of coffee close to my face, I struggled to stay awake for fear of drooling on the shoulder of the strangers sitting on either side of me. I was on the 6:55am flight to Denver this morning. No one said much. I am sure we were all wondering why we thought flying this early in the morning was a good idea.
Eventually the caffeine kicked in and I ventured a conversation with the woman next to me. Ends up, she the mom of the woman who sings the commercial jingle, “HOT POCKETS!”
As soon as the wheels touched the snowy ground in Denver, I do what I always do: I switched my cell phone on. (I am a rule follower!) Immediately I received a string of texts. I forgot to tell my friend Ally that I wouldn’t be able to meet her for our weekly study of Ruth! My stomach sank. She’s not a morning person either. I can imagine how frustrating it was to get up early and wait – counting the minutes she could have stayed in bed. She graciously sent me an “I forgive you,” text and informed me that her parents were on my same plane. I told her I would look for them. When it was our row’s turn to exit the plane, I looked behind me. Ally’s mom was in the next row in the seat right behind me! We had a nice little chat until our paths diverged at baggage claim.
Once I was settled in my hotel, I decided to go look for breakfast. I discovered a diner that had been featured on ‘Diners, Drive-ins & Dives’ nearby. It is called Sam’s #3. I walked the short distance across ice-crusted sidewalks. I find myself avoiding walking close to buildings. In Russia, tall buildings would drop humongous icicles and sheets of ice that were life-threatening. I laughed at myself. These buildings have flat roofs. I am not sure anyone has ever died from falling ice in downtown Denver.
Sam’s #3 won me over immediately as the sweet, grandmotherly hostess showed me to a table and gave me her menu recommendations. My server’s name was Maria. She’s from Russia. We had a nice little chat about where we were both from in Russia. As I waited for my Country Benedict, a kind looking man approached my table. He leaned forward a little and asked, “Are you Juliet?” “No,” I replied, “Are you Romeo?” He thought a moment. “I hope to be someone’s Romeo.” He quietly continued on his pursuit of his Juliet.
Now I am back in my room, wondering what further adventures this trip will hold. I’ll let you know if there are more stories!