Offseason an Aspen turn-on
Is it just my imagination, or is offseason in Aspen more off than usual? I watched a skateboarder carve turns down Mill Street in the middle of the day. Heck, he could have used all four lanes if half of lower Mill wasn’t under construction.
In fact, just about the only signs of life in town are demarcated by orange cones and plastic, orange fencing. There are men at work. At least somebody is (working, I mean).
Not that I’m complaining. I hope the tourists don’t find out offseason is the best time to be here.
Personally, I’m feeling so laid-back these days, I’m practically prone. I can’t look my editor in the eye any more without opening one first.
“Whattaya got?” he growls.
“Lunch?” I offer, diverting his attention from my nap. Then we strike out in search of one of the few establishments that are still open.
My favorite watering hole, Su Casa, has shut down briefly for the first time in memory, leaving me to gaze longingly at its subterranean patio with an unquenched thirst for its margaritas.
Even New York Pizza is undergoing renovation. No slices for how long?
It’s a good thing all my friends are leaving town on assorted vacations. The fact that I can’t find anybody to do anything with is somewhat tempered by the knowledge that there’s nothing to do anyway.
Offseason. Time to take off. Take off pounds. Take off for Mexico. Take off on my bike for a midday ride. Take off my shoes and tan my feet. The latter, I’ve decided, is a laudable goal – the kind that can be accomplished with a good book in one hand and a beer in the other.
Nothing like sitting in the park, working on my tan, and then wandering back into the office to tell my editor I’ve been gathering “a little color” for a piece I’m working on about offseason somnolence.
When I get the urge to be more productive, I stroll downtown, stand beneath one of those fragrant, flowering crab trees and breathe deeply. Ah, the scent of offseason – blossoms and suntan lotion. Sunscreen, I meant sunscreen. Really.
Yeah, screw training for the Ride for the Pass. Been there, done that.
You know that Find Another Way Day, when you’re supposed to get to work via carpool, walking, the bus, a bike or whatever? Every day in May should be Find A Motorized Way Day to celebrate the availability of parking spaces.
I drive to City Market, even when I don’t need anything, just because I can drive right up and pull into a parking spot. Then I buy something trivial just for the thrill of breezing through the checkout line, which, actually, isn’t a line at all.
And it’s never easier to find a parking spot right outside the front door of my favorite haunts than when they aren’t open.
Best of all, every face is familiar at this time of year. I can’t walk down the street without greeting people I know – fellow revelers in our brief break from the madness.
Janet Urquhart refused trade in her shorts for long pants during this week’s snow showers. Her e-mail is email@example.com
Support Local Journalism
Support Local Journalism
Readers around Aspen and Snowmass Village make the Aspen Times’ work possible. Your financial contribution supports our efforts to deliver quality, locally relevant journalism.
Now more than ever, your support is critical to help us keep our community informed about the evolving coronavirus pandemic and the impact it is having locally. Every contribution, however large or small, will make a difference.
Each donation will be used exclusively for the development and creation of increased news coverage.
Start a dialogue, stay on topic and be civil.
If you don't follow the rules, your comment may be deleted.
User Legend: Moderator Trusted User
The pandemic has also managed to confer a few specific gifts on everyday life, including and especially warm acknowledgments of the more mundane yet surprisingly meaningful aspects of the past eight months, such as …