Obscure (and still Unsubstantiated) Facts in Regards To New York, Denver, and Robert Glasper:

"A night where the crystalline flakes of snow hung heavy in the light air..."


I was in Denver for six days last week. When I first arrived, it was sunny and 65 degrees. It stayed liked that for a couple of days, then it snowed 10.” The only upside was that Rules got to leave work early.

“Lets go to Argonaut,” she said as she hopped in the car and shook the snow off her scarf. “I’ve got a couple cases of wine to pick-up.”

Rules slammed her door shut and secured her seatbelt.

“Cases of wine?” I asked as I pulled away. “..A couple of cases?”

Rules never looked in my direction.

“Just shut up.”

That night Rules suggested we stay in, but I wanted to see Robert Glasper.

“No way am I driving in that,” Rules said as she pointed toward the snow out the backyard window.

“We’ll take a cab,” I suggested.

“A cab,” Rules laughed, “how New York of you. Are you paying?”

“Well, no offense; but why wouldn’t we split it 50-50?”

“Cause I don’t really wanna go. I’m happy here with my wine and the dogs.”

So I could see where this was going ‘cause I know Rules. She’ll haggle even the most obstinate negotiator to the ground, let alone an impatient moron like Lodo Grdzak. She knew I wanted to go to that show.

“Okay,” I finally relented about ten minutes later. “I’ll pay for the cab there and back, plus your drinks. The only thing you have to do is, if you like the show, admit it and pay the cover. That’s it. If you don’t like the show, I’ll pay for everything. But if you love it, you pay your cover.”

So Rules condescended to accept that deal and we got to watch Robert Glasper play Fender Rhodes, which is one of my favorite instruments.

Fender Rhodes has a warm, fuzzy tone; and this night it perfectly complimented my soft, dreamy mood. A night where the crystalline flakes of snow hung heavy in the light air and I slumped back in my club’s cheap chair to stare out the window at the headlights that reflected off the snowdrifts. I hadn’t quite adjusted to the altitude or the medicinal marijuana I’d scored from Catfish. In fact, it felt like I’d already taken an Ambien by the time my waitress arrived with my second Merlot.

And with a buzz like that, you can bet Robert Glasper and that Fender Rhodes sounded really good.

But when the check came, Rules said nothing; nor did she say anything in the cab. I finally had to confront her when we got home.

“So?” I asked as she opened the door to let the dog’s outside.

“What?” she responded.

“..You don’t want to contribute anything toward that show?”

Rules laughed. “You said I didn’t have to if I didn’t love it.”

“Oh my God! What else we’re you gonna do that was better? That was a hot show. I can’t believe you didn’t think so.”

“That’s not the way you phrased it when we made our deal,” she answered. “I’m not saying it was a bad choice. He was great. I’m just saying...that wine wasn't so good."

"The wine?"

"Yeah, the wine. I could’ve stayed home and been perfectly happy. You wanted to go, not me. ...I’m Denver, you’re New York.”

“..What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

“...It means you should pay,” Rules answered as she whistled for the dogs to come back in. “Its been established.”