The Morning After

Okay, its safe to come out of your bunkers; they're gone. If you compare this photo to the one yesterday, you have to ask yourself if someone called an evacuation of the town. All those people, who you could look at and just tell they don't belong. Give-a-ways like a woman in a dress and high heels walking up a gravel road. Or the family of ten and the whiny kids crying to the exhausted mother and her saying "I'm sorry your bored, for the last time, you can't go climb that mountain. I don't care if your older brother goes." Or the guy who just bought a hat for himself and his girlfriend/sister/wife and was walking down the street with the tag still hanging from it. At least try to blend in.

This is the way this crappy little town is suppose to look. The only cars on the street are the morning crews delivering rolls to the two restaurants open for breakfast. The young man drives in from Montrose to deliver whatever they need on this early morning. The Meadowfresh truck hasn't even made the run from Durango over that little hill you're looking at, through Silverton to Ouray and on to Montrose. Just some poor guy who drew the short straw and had to either wake up early to make the delivery or just stayed up, probably with a blood alcohol level somewhere near 'explosive.'

I made a cup of Ethiopian and wandered the town assessing damage as well as looking for 'The Bad Boys of Ouray.' Look, once a cop, always a cop, okay? Get off my back. These guys, although not fully bad, aren't fully good either. I'm talking about three rogue brothers that cause mischief and occasional swearing among the town's folk. They're deer, young male bucks looking for females and a good time chewing up someone's flowerbed. If they were human they would have a rap sheet as long as your arm for petty stuff, nothing hard or violent. They would be the neighbor that changes the oil to their NASCAR type car, probably an old Dodge Charger, in the street, leaving a permanent stain. You would always see at least two of them together, usually in bars called The Dew Drop In. Nope, not this morning. It concerned me a little with no signs of any deer reported the last few days in town. I felt better when I saw a young male at the intersection of 5th Avenue and 6th Street. We looked at each other, I tipped my hat, he went back to eating some Daises. That's the other pestering thing about this town, the wildlife wanders in and looks at you says 'What are you going to do? Shoot me? I don't think so.' Bastards.

Good news, Papillon Restaurant is back. They've moved from 7th Avenue to Main Street, just around the corner to a much bigger place. You can get the 'Big Easy Breakfast' for only $7.95 or sleep in and come back at lunch and get the 'Po Boy' for the same price. If you remember two years ago during my last report, most of the family was thinking about moving back to Louisiana and their Uncle Noble's home. Guess they didn't go.

Sun won't hit the heart of the valley where this hole is for another hour. All you have to look at is big mountains and colors that you can't find at Walmart, soft, hues that drive that darn blood pressure to normal levels. Jeez.