When Todd got a ticket for supposedly running a red light this spring, I convinced him to fight it. So it was only fair that I meet him at the Denver City and County Building at 4:30 on a Friday afternoon to provide moral support. Only the scene in the picture below isn’t quite what confronted me as I rode the 0 bus toward Colfax and Broadway. A haze of smoke hung over Civic Center Park, and I couldn’t get Google Maps to work on my cell phone.
Then I remembered: It’s 4/20. The day to smoke pot in public places. “Won’t they get arrested?” I asked the woman sitting next to me. “No,” she said, “there are too many of them, and they might have permits. I have a permit.” Maybe my question marks me as a goody two-shoes—except I never was such a thing. I was just oblivious to anything trendy.
At this point the bus driver announced, “For those of you who care, it’s officially 4:20.”
I got out and circled the park toward the City and County Building, grousing to myself that it was OK for a bunch of teenage stoners to use Civic Center Park (and even get a row of port-a-potties), but not Occupy Denver. It’s OK to smoke pot in the park, but it’s not OK to camp.
I found my way to Traffic Court, announced in a funny nasal voice by a small, skinny man wearing a red tie. I entered Room 105A, at one end of a long, marble-lined hallway, and saw Todd sitting in the back row. He told me I had to wait outside, and just at that moment one of the court officials announced that children were not allowed in traffic court. I went outside and waited on the same bench as a tattooed man with his black hair pulled back into a ponytail and then braided. Like many other people waiting on the benches for their friends and family in the court, he eventually got up to get a drink of water and lost his seat.
I followed his lead after a while and waited out in the long hallway until Todd came out. Today was his (and 95 other people’s) arraignment. He pleaded not guilty, and his court date is June 20. I told him I was sorry it had turned out to be such a hassle. I hope it’s worth it.
After I kissed Todd goodbye, I passed the guards’ desk on my way to the exit. I could have sworn I heard one of them say, “What is that weird woman still doing here?” Or maybe he just said “woman.” I was tempted to go back and flash him my scalp. (You think this wig is weird, officer? Well, feel my head!) But no. I’m too polite. And I really wanted something to eat.
were able to discuss the way forward for the next year. Adam Brock of 
The uniform: white pants and dark vests.
The keytar player (Pete Schmidt) loved to jam with guitarist Tavis Alley. Cutting Alley’s head off was not an artistic decision; I just wasn’t fast enough on the shutter to keep up with the two of them.
The tamarind was so red I didn’t recognize it; usually it’s brown. The mint-jalapeno chutney was refreshing, and both chutneys were spicy. Not what I expected, considering how the website mentions the chef’s “low threshold for chili.”
the pattern created by slicing it in half was beautiful. They were best hot, just come from the kitchen, but they were still decent well into the meal.
I held my cupcake treasures close all the way down the mall to the Tattered Cover to protect them from being squished by some eager tourist. This LoDo bookstore (one of three Tattered Covers in the Denver Metro area) is one of my favorite places to hang out: not only does it provide lots of comfy seating near the café (and in other nooks and crannies on all three floors, though I’ve never taken food upstairs), but also there are tons of free magazines to read.
in which to pretend I was copyediting on my computer while juggling a drink and cupcake.
I was happy there until my computer announced it was running out of battery power, so I stood up, cleaned the red velvet crumbs off the red seat, and proceeded to crumb-up another chair.
and baskets. There are two soft leather chairs where you can sit and look at catalogues and just generally feel peaceful.
Every time I shop at 
I find something new to eat or drink. King Soopers can’t hold a candle to it, though the Pacific Ocean Market in Broomfield comes close. But it doesn’t have Hawaiian goods like “Maxi Taro Chips” (made from the root in the center of the picture; daikon is on the left, and nagaimo, which I’ve never heard of, is on the right). 
“Maxi Taro” is not exactly an appetizing name to women, but I thought the supposedly “hot and spicy” chips were all right. Just don’t expect the same crisp texture you’d get from a potato chip. You can also get POG juice there (passionfruit, orange, and guava).
This picture reminds me of the massive bags of flour I helped transport to the Navajo Reservation back in the day.
I was dazzled by all the edamame on the package, but once I opened it I realized that I had bought crackers, not beans. They were definitely better than the taro chips, though.
squid, and a large burgundy chunk of maguro that I was too chicken to photograph because the butcher was standing right there looking at me as if to say, “Do you want something, or not?” And, oddly enough, a fish head labeled “Arigato.” Can someone interpret that one for me?
Looks like it’s baring its teeth, doesn’t it?
offers “a diverse range of contemporary styles to enhance the interior design of your home or office.” It was, I think, the smallest of the four galleries, and is featuring the Peruvian tapestries of Maximo Laura and the stoneware sculptures of Ruth Borgenicht until July 25.
When I first saw them, I thought of the paintings of Marc Chagall but later decided that was a superficial comparison, based on the two artists’ use of color and my perception that some of the figures in the tapestries seemed to be flying.
which I thought of as “bowls” until Director Kate Chimenti reshaped one in front of me. It’s a good thing I don’t own one because I’d spend all my time playing with it. She told me that Borgenicht fires the individual rings partway, assembles them into chain mail forms, and fires them again.
The cowboy paintings of Duke Beardsley (not pictured) greeted me as I walked in, reinforcing the statement from the website that the “gallery has a strong commitment to promoting contemporary artists from the West,” but other works indicate the owners have a broad range of interests.
and Brad Rude’s whimsical folk art sculptures of animals with human impediments (or enhancements, depending on your point of view).
and her fascination with the lack of beginnings or endings in Grant Haffner’s “road” paintings. I left feeling informed and energetic and hungry for cupcakes from Mermaids Bakery on Champa, but that story will have to wait for another day.
Even though the campus is south of downtown across Speer, the center has a gallery on Wazee near 18th Street. On the way there from Market Street Station, I came across 6 galleries on Wazee between 16th and 18th Streets. There’s even a gallery of contemporary Russian art on 17th near Union Station. I had no idea this miniature art district existed until recently. And although there’s no First Friday Art Walk—not enough foot traffic, according to a woman at one gallery—there’s definitely enough art to fill a lazy afternoon.
built in 1909 as a warehouse for various kinds of industrial machinery and then later used as a garage for the Oxford Hotel at 17th and Wazee.
I must be a dancing fool, because what I loved most about last weekend’s two festivals was the dancing, albeit of very different kinds (see 
joining in the dandelion dance (the seeds a reference to reincarnation). I’m of two minds about posting her picture. I think it’s OK because she was performing at a public festival, but then again, I didn’t get her parents’ permission. What do you think? Leave her in, or not?
Afterward, we sought out shade at the Larimer and 19th corner of Sakura Square, where a garden memorializes Colorado governor Ralph Carr and Minoru Yasui,
who fought for the rights of Japanese during their World War II internment. (There is also a plaza in the latter’s name at 303 West Colfax, across from the Denver Mint.)
to agree to a picture. They said they got their outfits from Japanese companies, online I assume.
When I went by 
And the cowboys from the Colorado Gay Rodeo Association.
And, “How come I didn’t know how to dance like that when I was a teenager?”
Toward the back, past the end of the bar where the servers hang out when they’re not busy, patrons can lounge on couches.
I can’t identify all the cheeses just by tasting, but there was some kind of blue cheese in there, and the crust on top contrasted with all the gooiness underneath. The asparagus spears were crisp and tasted grilled. That lovely, filling food cost $10, but then I managed to spend 200 percent more on wine. What can I say? The waitress kept asking me if I wanted anything … and apparently I did. And from the look of the wine rack near the entrance, there certainly are wines-aplenty.
The reddish building behind it is Wolf’s Camera. 
The manicure table is to the left. The setup for pedicures is very much like that at Hair Technology, but that Aveda salon built steps and finished them with slate and piled pillows on top. All in all, the pink vinyl cushions were easier to navigate, if not as eco-friendly. 
Leela’s European Café
Given the MySpace page mention of “exposure,” I would guess that the bands don’t get paid much, if at all.
I would have preferred half the feta, but that is my only complaint. My mouth was still tingling from the peppery dressing when I left.
The barkeep chatted with all of them; she was in her second week and very, very personable. When I asked her how long the restaurant had been open, she said about two years. She laughed about the fact that they “don’t charge” tax; the price you see on the menu is the price you pay. That’s what’s European about the place, she added.