Autumnal City Viewings
Published: Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Updated: Wednesday, October 10, 2012 01:10
Fall is my favorite season, because it means that it’s worth my time to break into hotels.
Well, okay, not break in. But loiter in the hallway with no intention of renting a room.
The bottom line is that the best view of anything is going to be from above it, and that philosophy applies to the city, too.
Maybe it’s the psychological aspect of lording over tiny people and streets that gives an adrenaline rush of power. Or perhaps it’s some universal aesthetic law involving perspective that I’m too simpleminded to know about. Whatever the reason, it’s a fact that the more levels you climb, the prettier stuff looks.
And stuff looks the best in the fall.
Picture this: You’re on the top floor of the swanky Four Seasons at sunset. The horizon, in the form of our majestic Rockies, is smothered by a blanket of lazy clouds. Orange gloom swirls with wispy pinks. The sun, the mountains, the clouds, the sky all settle into each other.
It gets darker by the second. The colors are organic. The atmosphere is alive. The air is quieting.
When you look at the street, you see city lights. A sea of incandescent bulbs on trees, draping over the bustle of Larimer. Fluorescent building lights bounce off of the damp asphalt. The moon glows through thick clouds, making dark spots mere memories.
The view from the Four Seasons is 360 degrees. It’s prime real estate for tall city-viewing. (The free coffee and muffins in the lobby don’t hurt either.)
A walkway connecting the DCPA with its parking garage provides another magical spot. Although the view directly below is just a dumpster and some parking spots (and awesome graffiti), looking straight out finds a beautiful panoramic view of our city, framed with the unique metallic waves of the parking garage.
These waves reflect and dance with all of the moving lights around them, giving a surreal and subtle texture to the view.
Fall means a lot of things to a lot of people. For me? It means that it’s hotel-crashing, bridge-loitering season. But only in the most poetic of ways.