It’s 7 am. I am sitting at the Blue Sky Bar at Denver International Airport. I have a screwdriver sitting in front of me. I am about to jump on a Frontier flight to Wisconsin to visit family and friends. I need this cocktail and this trip like air and good sex.
Those of us who saunter up to airport bars in search of liquid breakfast is a different breed. We fly hard and in our minds, we fly fast, but that’s just the booze talking. In reality, we are embracing the same damn escapism that everyone needs to get through the average life. Airport bars are an essential part of travel and I am grateful for their presence on this troublesome July morning.
You see, earlier in the week my car was stolen from my apartment complex parking lot. Now that I have come to grips with the reality of the situation I feel like a 40-year-old man does on his first prostate exam. I was violated. And I was none-to-pleased to learn that I didn’t need to check my backpack for this trip. That was $60 round trip that I basically donated to Frontier. That damn airline pokes and prods you for every last penny. In a time when money is tight and some asshole took my crappy car, I don’t need news like that. So, this tour de force of drinking in came at the right time. And so did this Blue Sky Bar.
I am of the opinion that traditions are unnecessary but drinking before flying is different. It’s standard, rational behavior in the face of cruising through the sky in the hands of a pilot. I don’t know him and that’s unnerving. However, I do know this bartender for at least a little while. Let’s call him Travis. And Travis is prompt with strong drinks and a friendly demeanor.
I just talked with two girls that are heading to Nashville for a week of country music and poor decisions. I wouldn’t mind joining them but wasn’t meant to be. And now they left me to my thoughts. As I slowly sip my double screwdriver I’m pondering my trip and how I am going to manage now that I am carless in a city with poor public transportation. This morning is carrying good vibes. I am ready to get on the plane.
I am writing the conclusion from high above my terrestrial home because Frontier moved the gate of my flight. I’m Wisconsin-bound now and in good spirits. Apparently, the flight was boarding while I ordered a second drink. I put the new screwdriver down like I was back in college, said my goodbyes and ran down the moving sidewalk to the other gate.
But I am here now, relatively safe, waiting for my vodka soda from the flight attendant. And off I go to LaLa land in the friendly skies. Maybe you will need to escape soon. Normal people need to get out of the madness from time to time. So, if you are in Terminal A at Denver International Airport I recommend you sit your ass down at Blue Sky Bar and remember that you don’t always have to face your problems.
Blue Sky Bar
Address: A Gates, Gate A34, Denver International Airport, 8500 Peña Blvd, Denver, CO 80249