Just as Dinosaur Ridge was mere minutes from the Red Rocks Amphitheatre, so was our next stop ten minutes or so from Dinosaur Ridge, down the slope of Alameda Parkway, across the interstate, and up the forested residential side of Lookout Mountain. We were elated to suffer no ill effects from the changing altitudes this time. The real estate on the way was curiously maintained, as most of the home along Lookout Mountain appeared well-to-do, as if the local upper-class had all sought refuge together in case of another worldwide flood. At the very least, I imagine their homeowners’ association prides itself on strict upkeep.
Past the mountainside suburbs and one abandoned restaurant was our next stop, the Buffalo Bill Memorial, final resting place of Old West legend William F. Cody himself. I’m not sure why visitors feel compelled to throw pennies at him. Perhaps famous people’s graves are like wishing wells if you toss them just right. Perhaps they’re meant as tributes to Charon. Perhaps they’re a down payment from those who think Buffalo Bill’s ghost is a detective who helps the helpless and gives hope to the hopeless…for a price. Perhaps they’ve somehow mistaken his grave for Benjamin Franklin’s. The world may never know.