Tabatha Deans

Bringing Integrity to the Written Word

Struttin’ my stuff on Broadway


I began my day waiting for the 0 bus on Broadway, a main thoroughfare that runs North and South through Denver and beyond. It was early, and I was headed North, the opposite direction from which I usually travel. The bus was full of commuters heading in from the suburbs, and became more crowded when we stopped at the light rail station and business people poured from the train. They flashed their monthly passes to the driver as they boarded, then squeezed into seats and looked down at their phones/nooks/iPads. One gentleman fumbled through his wallet, unable to find his transit pass. Not wanting to hold up the bus any longer, he started looking for cash in his wallet. He peeled off two dollars, then realized he needed exact change for the cash fare.

“How much is it?” he asked the driver.

“2.25” The man dug in his pockets and came up empty handed.

Now, had we been on any other bus, at any other time of the day, and someone who was not dressed in nice slacks was a quarter short on their fare, everyone on the bus would have looked down in an attempt to avoid eye contact. The driver would have insisted the person pay up or get off the bus. But, as this man looked up in desperation, several commuters were digging in their wallets/purses in search of a quarter. Within 30 second his fare was covered, and he joined the others, thanking the woman who saved him profusely for the duration of the ride.

I made my way to the library where I spent a good deal of time in the research center, seeking information for several stories I’ve been assigned to write for a new website, The project sounds promising, and will give me free reign to write what about what I want, as well as establishing myself as an expert on the goings-on in Denver. At least in my little part of Denver.

I went home and got my jog in for the day, then showered, grabbed my camera and headed out determined to get some good photos to go with some story ideas I had. I was meeting the Good Doctor at the Mayan theatre in a few hours to see a non-verbal documentary—(Yes, a silent documentary, my idea, not his) that Jessica had recommended. So I donned my new Italian leather boots, form-fitting jeans, and new attitude, and decided to walk the short 1.5 miles to the theater, meandering along the way, jotting story ideas and taking pictures.

I wound through the Cap Hill  neighborhood, strutting through historical homes that looked like miniature castles, past towering cathedrals and around graffiti-covered alley ways and street corners. The weather was warm but the breeze was cool and fresh with the scent of fall. I stopped at the Historic Denver Center but didn’t take the tour, and did a little window shopping along the way. It took me nearly an hour to reach my destination, where I met the Good Doctor, got a glass of wine, and settled in to literally have my mind blown away by a movie that included no words, no plot and no narrative. I would definitely recommend Samsara to anyone who has 90 minutes of grey matter to spare.

October 24, 2012 - Posted by | Uncategorized

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