Warsaw Cabbies and Colorado Cowboys
When I took a cab today to Old Town in Warsaw, the driver was one of those curious types who wouldn’t leave me alone and let me think.
“Where you from?” he asks.
“Ah… US… where in US?”
“Ah… Denver, Colorado.”
A blissful 5 seconds of silence followed, until:
“Lots of canyons, yes?”
“Well… sort of. More mountains.”
“Ah, yes, mountains. Lots of cowboys?”
“Maybe out in the country where there are ranches. But not really too many cowboys, anymore. The good old days…”
“Hmm. Too bad. I, ah, see cowboys in movies.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
The conversation continued similarly until I arrived at my destination. I got out of the taxi and was hit by a cold wind that would have frozen hell. It felt like walking into a bath of ice water with an ugly maid pricking me with tiny toothpicks. Toothpicks made of dry ice.
It reminds me of those cold days in Minneapolis years ago, and how glad I am to have left that kind of weather (mostly) behind in Denver.