Grounded in Boulder

Friends, Groupies, Fans, Critics --

Greetings and salutations from Boulder, Colorado, where the mountains are high and the hippies certainly aren't low.

It's been a while, I know, and you've all been starved for more dispatches from the World Tour and all. Well, let's see if I can catch you up really quickly. Left Asia, went to Europe -- Bulgaria, Croatia, Romania, England. Learned that herding sheep is easy but can be intensely boring and that Britain's youth are taking dancing to new lows. Returned to these United States, whereupon the World Tour returned to its most dangerous stop, New Jersey. Luckily, that was a country where I spoke the language and can toss out howyadoon and whatchewtawkinbout with the best of them.

But that's all ancient history now, and the World Tour has moved into a new phase. El Gordo has, as you know, relocated to a new studio in Boulder, Colorado, where you learn what a "Trustafarian" is and why they say "a dog in every Subaru." Seriously, why so many Subarus?

On the way, I have procured a Gordomobile, sometimes also called a Toyota RAV4. This nifty bit of hypocrisy has taken me to exotic locales all over my adopted home state, such as Great Sand Dunes National Park and bustling Nunn (population not so many.)

Nominally I am here to get my Master's in Environmental Studies with a concentration in energy policy. As you well know, of course, I am already a Master, but that is besides the point. In addition to the delightful coursework that goes along with such things, I spent much of my time playing in the mountains of my new backyard, skiing, hiking, mountain biking, and otherwise engaging in general tomfoolery.

Now that tomfoolery is what has turned El Gordo into El Gimpy. Because it was only last week that I was high up in the Indian Peaks Wilderness returning from a hike to the continental divide (Pawnee Pass, el. 12,550'), when I slid on some ice, hit my foot on a rock, and wound up with a seriously impressive story.

To give away the ending, I turned out to have a slight fracture in two places on my right leg. But at the time, all I knew was that the ol' kicker wasn't doing what it should. So with two miles of snow, ice, and rock left to get back to the trailhead, I engaged the help of my trusty hiking partner/lifesaver Ron and took six hours to hike back. Thankfully we were met by the capable Ranger Glen, who aided me through the end of the trail and drove us back to the Gordomobile so I could be taken with all due haste to the fine folks at Boulder Community Hospital.

So yeah, I'm in an Aircast for the next several weeks and hobbling around on crutches in the vain hopes that some pretty girl will feel sympathy for me and decide to become my live-in nurse. Since that hasn't happened, I've relied on the extremely generous support of some good friends here:

Ron "Leaf-Eater" LaCoss
James "You're Going to Graduate and I'm Going to Be An Alcoholic" Meldrum
Mari Elise "Bourbon" Ewing
Gabriella "Spin the Bottle" Stockmayer
Rebecca "Don't Mess with the Prius" Johnson

To them, a hearty thanks. And to all, a good night. Until the World Tour resumes...