Rosh Hashanah In Boulder

The Balabusta's high school friend, Chaya, got married yesterday, in Boulder, CO. Long-time readers may recall that Chaya lost her first husband in a tragic accident a few years ago:

Scary News

Bitter and Sweet

The Memory of Muffins

Yesterday, she married a wonderful man, and told him in their vows that she had been hurt, and he helped her heal, and all of us cried.

Getting there was complicated. After losing her husband, Chaya moved to Santa Barbara to be near her sister, Drora, and met the new husband, Yochanan. They decided they needed a fresh start, and moved to Colorado. That was fine, except that they decided to get married in their new town, which mean that the Balabusta had to get to Boulder on Rosh Hashanah.

There is a 1965 Western spoof with Burt Lancaster, The Hallelujah Trail, which features a group of Prohibition activists marching on Denver. They sing a song, which I can't find the lyrics for, but it goes something like:

Stand up! We'll march to Denver,
(Something, something, something.)
Stand up! We'll march to Denver,
For our cause is just.

Stand up! We'll march to Denver,
Raise our banners high!
Cause when we get to Denver,
Denver will be dry,
You hear? Denver will be dry.

I kept singing that as I trekked across the Southwest.

U.S. Airways got me as far as Phoenix, and then we had an hour's delay on our stopover, while they tinkered with the plane. Then we got off the ground, headed for Denver. An hour into the flight, the head stewardess came on and told us that we were going back to Phoenix, because something was still wrong with the plane.

We were closer to Denver than to Phoenix at this point, but turn back we did. The plane landed, and the stewardess said, "Well, I'm not sure what to say. Welcome back to Phoenix."

At this point, I called Chaya to tell her I was missing the rehearsal dinner.

We were herded across the Barry M. Goldwater Memorial Terminal, and led onto a new plane. Then the new plane sat on the ground for an hour, because we had a new problem--the computer codes that are supposed to detatch the plane from the airport were not working.

We sat patiently, while technicians in Phoenix and Pittsburg (?) worked on the problem. Eventually, we got into the air, and this time, they actually took us to Denver.

As I lurched into my hotel at midnight, what to my wondering eyes should appear but a young man in fedora, tzitzit, and carrying a shofar. Not kidding. Apparently the hotel Chaya recommended to me hosts the Boulder Chabad Chagim. Next morning, I was able to chat with a lady in a shaytel and a pink-and-black set as I waited for my pickup.

The wedding was lovely, the bride was beautiful, the cake fell in, but we were all too happy to care. A wonderful simcha.