So I decided it was time to visit my friend Nick. I hadn’t seen him in about a year. He’d stopped using a cell phone, there was no facebook to speak of, and no form of communication that I knew of  to reach him. He’d gone off the grid, as they say.

When I did hear from him it would be through his letters.  Some letters would consist of  pictures that had reminded him of my face, others would simply be clippings of magazine headlines  like “Splurge on power” and the like.

His last letter was a collection of pages ripped out of a young adult novel called ” The Naked Face”. He’d scribbled some stream of consciousness in green magic marker over the text. He informed me he was going to get rid of everything he owned and move into a basement.

I had been threatening to come out to Denver for some time but for one reason or another I never made it out there. I was living in Springfield, MO, working at a coffee shop, and feeling heavy about things. When I did finally decide to take the trip I had to make it interesting. I had to surprise him.

I won’t share the means in which I ended up finding his location (some of you reading this may be on my list).

For those who’ve never met Nick perhaps I should tell you a little more about him. In one particular issue of The Standard, an MSU newspaper, it was reported that a student dressed as a cat had gotten stuck in a tree. The campus security arrived to a crowd of students gathered around a tree watching a human cat meowing up in the branches. The campus police notified the local police and two officer arrived to take control of the situation. The situation played out a little something like this:

“What’s your name sir?”

“…meow.”

“you’re going to have to come down from that tree”

“…meow”.

“Listen, I’m trying to decide whether or not to take you to a psych ward or prison. Help me out” said a police officer.

“…meow.”

The cop did his best to convince Nick he’d been breaking some kind of law — that his doom was imminent and real. I think everybody there knew how ridiculous the situation was. Arresting this guy would only put the icing on the legend cake.

This process continued until a student in the crowd said,” I think he wants someone to help him down”

She walked up to the tree with arms outstretched “Here kitty, here kitty, do you want to come down?

The man cat crawled down out of the tree. The crowd applauded.

The man cat removed his mask and returned to Nick Orf.

The story ends here but it was the big topic everyone was talking about on campus for the next month.

So the trip:

I hit the road for Denver from St. Louis, MO. I got into Denver around 3pm and pulled up to Nick’s place. I knocked. Nothing. A dog starts barking. Still nothing, alone in awkward silence. Because of the means I used to find Nick I wasn’t guaranteed he’d be home or even in the state that day. I knew he would have been in New Mexico a few days previous. There was really no telling if he ‘d come back by now.

A figure emerged front he back room and walked down the hall. I couldn’t tell if it was a Nick from the lighting, just a silhouette. The man who answered looked rough like a fighter or a heavy drinker. I asked for Nick. “Nick are you home?” he shouted. Nothing. ” I don’t know where he is. You might just come by later.”

I didn’t want to unload my story on some poor roommate who had no clue.  Instead I walked to a  nearby park, found a good bench, and played the waiting game.

No Nick. This could be trouble. There were three options I had planned for such a situation:

• Stay in a Hostel
• Buy a tent and sleep in the mountains (preferred)
• sleep in my car

Driving home wasn’t an option.  I tend to fall asleep at the wheel after 10 pm.

Second visit to the house: knock knock……no Nick.

I got some coffee at an amazing bookstore called the Tattered Cover. I ate some food and wandered Colfax Ave. This street has it all: homeless , rich , hippies, hipsters, yuppies, drunks, stoners, loners. It’s a diverse area in that respect but predominantly white, young people.

I went back for the third visit. The roommate I met earlier came to the door. “I think he’s here. His room is on the third floor, the middle one. ” I knock. Nothing. The door opens and I see Nick, half awake from a nap.

“What?”….”whats going on?’

“Nick, I’ve come to you in a dream”

“What?”

“I’ve come to tell you that I’m coming over…”

“I can’t believe it”

“…and thats happening right now”

Mind…blown.

I don’t think it was just my appearance that did it. That whole day he’d been riding around town in a borrowed min-van dressed as a banana looking for bicycle parts. His girlfriend, while wearing a butterfly costume,  had hit a stretch limo and had to explain to the immigrant limo driver that the mini van wasn’t hers and that she didn’t have insurance.

The week before that Nick had been in Gladstone, Colorado hanging with some interesting locals most notably a Vietnam vet/shaman who lived in a cave.  So here I am some old friend out of the either of Missouri standing in his doorway. A strange bookend to a much stranger week.

His roommates:

Dwayne: He was the first roommate I met that day. He’s a seasoned martial artist and trainer. He runs a school out of a room in the house.

Grace: Dwayne’s girlfriend. She’s a witch of sorts. Collects lots of books on Wiccan “methods” like good housekeeping for the witch.

Shawn: Token geek. Recently he’s been the house freeloader. Smokes a lot of pot and takes pictures at clubs.

Enoch: Dark skinned and striking blue eyes. Believes he’s either the reincarnation of Jesus or the anti-christ.

Kelly: hippie, studying to become a teacher, righteous hippie, performance poet, hippy. I couldn’t decide if I really liked her or completely hated her.

So what did I do with Nick for 5 days?…..I put him in a banana costume and wandered through Red Rocks.