It is Labor Day weekend, with the Taste of Madison happening at the Madison Capitol square. I meet Denver on the corner of Mifflin street as we follow the crowd. Denver is wearing a black and white shirt and a short with tennis shoes. He smiles big when he sees me, and his energy is radiating. I start sweating with the high temperature, but I don't mind. I like it when it is warm, and walking never gets boring.
Denver tells me he needs to grab some cash, so we head to the nearest ATM.
There are plenty of tents serving all types of food. The smell of tacos mixed with Asian and burgers fill all the corners. I don't even know what direction to take it, and I have to trust Denver on that.
"I can tell Madison is a very diverse city. I love pasta."
"Isn't Seattle the same?"
"I guess so."
"So, what is your favorite type of food?"
"Pasta."
"Here," he points to the tent across from us. I don't resist to get an alfredo linguini and a glass of white wine. I grab my cash from my pocket, but Denver doesn't let me pay it. The girl smiles as she places my Alfredo pasta in a plastic bowl. We can barely walk with so many people in front of us.
"I love Thai food, too," Denver tells me as he eats his chicken alfredo. The truth is that I'd never tried any Asian food that is not Chinese. My parents used to take me to a Chinese buffet until I got sick with allergies. Besides that, I'd eaten California sushi in the past since I can't stand the smell of seafood, let alone raw fish.
"What about some empanadas?" He offers. The man inside the food cart is frying fresh ones when he faces Denver and me approaching. "Hi, bro. What's up? What do you want for today?"
"Plantains."
"One or two?"
"Two."
The man places them on a bowl with a few napkins and handles it to Denver. "New girl?" He looks down at me with a grin.
"I wish." He smiles, and I remember I'd seen this movie playing before with Denver last week. "Plantains are awesome." He affirms.
"Hope you like it," the man smiles at me. "They are fresh."
We stop at the corner, but there is no place to sit.
"They are great," I tell in surprise after giving the first bite. However, they are too hot, and I have to be careful not to burn the tip of my tongue. I see the smoke coming from inside as I almost let it go my piece. I take a swallow of whatever is left of my wine and then wait a few minutes before eating the rest. Denver had finished him in practically two bites. I throw my plastic wares in the trash, along with our bowls and used napkins.
"What about some tiramisu for dessert?"
"Oh, I can't resist that."
We go back to the Italian tent as there is a huge line of people getting tiramisu. Then more wine. But Denver and I don't mind waiting. Every step, Denver gives in. He seems to know someone in this city.
We walk toward the band playing on the other side of the corner, holding the last tiramisu piece. The band is playing rock and roll with people hearing and dancing. Some folks sit on the sidewalk while others dance like crazy, bouncing and moving their heads to the side, jumping and bumping in each other.
"Look." I point indiscretion to one of the guys jumping. "Isn't that crazy guy from the camping trip? The one who drinks pure vodka from the bottle?"
YOU ARE READING
Beyond Denver
Romance18-year-old Cassidy Bardot moves to Madison to start college in the fall. She follows her mother's advice: "Working hard will help you to forget." Initially, everything is working out just as Cassidy planned. She is living in a new apartment, finds...
