Hey, My Name is Chris and I’m Not a Colorado Native

(Oh, sorry. Should I go home?)

I grew up about 90 miles north of Cheyenne, directly on the Wyoming border. Like, if you take the first exit into the city, my parents’ house is just down the road. If I was really dedicated, I could’ve biked to Colorado.

Before I moved here, I used to trek down after work to see weeknight shows and still make it back home by midnight. My schools used to take field trips to Denver. I’ve wanted to be a part of this city since I was a kid.

So when new friends ask if I’m a native, it’s understandable that I stumble a bit. But once I explain my journey, it’s usually met with, “Oh, so you’re basically a native.” Like I’m being accepted into this club I never asked to join. But I agree and move on.

I moved to Colorado right before the green rush for a job in the performing arts. (Denver’s got a killer theatre scene, btw.) After squatting in an empty house in Brighton for a few months, I landed myself a home — a studio apartment directly on the edges of Downtown, Uptown, and Cap Hill.

An awesome part of my escape was this gay culture I’d never experienced. It was in my neighborhood. It was at my job. There were actual groups of homosexuals just doing their thing. It wasn’t unheard of in my hometown, but for only being a few miles away, it felt like thousands.

The neighborhood felt like a charming melting pot. I was paying less than $600 and could walk to work. It’s easy to see why once legal weed was added to the equation, Denver exploded … as did my rent.

I was barely in my new city for a year before the rest of the country decided they should be, too. And apparently they’re much richer than I am. I was here early enough to understand “how it used to be,” and I too went on tiny tirades about these trend-whores invading our oasis.

Of course it’s frustrating to see your rent skyrocket. To have your commute to work be suddenly double congested. To apply for 10 jobs a day and hear nothing back. Hitting a rut in a city that used to be so comfortable is kinda scary.

But whose fault is it, really? Can you blame the people who found out how great this place is where you already happened to be? Are we really the kind of society where we get to be dicks to the new kid in school?

Maybe Denver gets to be their escape, too. Maybe they weren’t so lucky to grow up in an exciting city. It’s sort of cool to be at the forefront of a movement.

(But congratulations on never making it out of your hometown.)