A few Colorado personality types we've all run into at one time or another. You can't deny you've seen these ladies and gents frolicking around these parts, and they're all part of what makes living here so great ... except for #2. #2 needs to fuck right off.
The basic bitch
The basic bitch "Just couldn't even" when H&M came to town. She's endlessly entranced by smoothie bowls and Starbucks iced coffee, and free-bases Northface when she's not OD-ing on Tom's shoes, which, she's proud to let you know, financed a meal for a starving Bangladeshi child. Her golden retriever is either named "Bud" or "Sam" and she <3's to watch proposal videos on Upworthy.
Habitat: CorePower yoga
Favorite website: Pinterest, Tobi.com
The hobo that yells at you when you're getting gas
You're pumping gas when you see him out of the corner of your eye, and he's coming straight for you: the hobo who screams at you on the regular. "Gimme some change" he demands, using a tone of voice usually reserved for hypoglycemic children. You stare. "I saw a UFO" he screams as you replace your fuel cap and climb in your your car, determined not to react. "How come these motherfuckers be hatin' war nurses?" "My daddy was a seamstress!" "I gotta get to the airport, son, I'm flyin' high!" You turn your car on, and peel off as he bellows "I knew a cat who could whistle like the wind!" at your disappearing car. You need to find a new gas station.
Habitat: Mysteriously wherever you are
Favorite website: Whatever was last open on the computers at the public library, Wikipedia
Your ex-weed dealer who won't stop calling you even though weed is legal
You haven't been seeing him for a while now. In fact, you broke up with him about four months ago, when you found out he was useless. He's your ex-weed dealer, and although you've moved on, he still loves you ... a lot. Even though you've explained to him that you can go buy recreational weed at any dispensary now, and will no longer be needing his services, he's constantly showing up at your door with a pizza, six-pack, and an eighth in a desperate attempt to win back your affection. With a wink, he tells you he's got some real good shit right now that he'll sell to you for half price, and reveals to you his master plan to break into the edibles business. "I just made some killer cannabis brushetta, man." When you refuse, he falls asleep on your couch and steals all your prescription meds.
Habitat: His 2004 Toyota Camry because you won't let him come inside
Favorite website: Jizzhut.com
Ye olde Red Rocks patron
This Colorado classic is going to every single show at Red Rocks this season, and they're not afraid to let you know about it. Big Gigantic, Tech9, Pretty Lights, Mimosa, Phish, Eoto, The Polish Ambassador, Bassnectar ... these are a few of their favorite things. Their closet is full of mardi gras beads, light-up necklaces, glowsticks, furry boots, and, for some reason, THC-laced spermicide. These are the people that pop molly like it was a daily vitamin, and rarely travel in anything less than a party bus with stripper poles.
Habitat: Burning Man if it's happening, or any happy hour
Favorite website: omfgdogs.com
Your friend, who isn't really your friend, who works at a farm stand that you avoid
You loved the Farmer's Market until you started to run into her, handing out organic, free-range radishes to glutards like it was some sort of charity giveaway. The first time you stopped to say hi, it was only because you were being nice, but you learned your lesson when she started to rifle off the things that you can never, ever eat again. Chicken, almonds, spinach, bread, milk, artichokes, fennel (Fennel?! No one takes away our fennel), until she had whittled down your acceptable diet to two things: quinoa and locally-caught salmon, which doesn't exist. Her carbon footprint is more of a carbon eskimo-kiss, and she brings her own grocery bags to the health food store. Oh, and she's in a cult.
Habitat: A cult commune cleverly disguised as an organic beet farm
Favorite website: one that's not a website, but is actually a group of people interacting face-to-face, in real life, like god intended
The mountain man who still thinks Y2K is a thing
He's got a missile silo in an undisclosed mountain location that's stocked with two year's worth of canned food, porno mags, and ammunition. Why? Because everything is a conspiracy, man. He occasionally comes down the mountain for supplies, and is constantly surprised by technology. If you see this rare remant of eras past, it's because you're doing some unbelievably pedestrian thing like getting your driver's license renewed, and he's there because he hasn't checked in with the government since 1983.
Habitat: In the mountains, in the forest, in a cave that he fought a bear for
Favorite website: The Jessie Ventura one
Person who posts photos of themselves snowboarding with the caption "POW DAY!"
For six months out of the year, your Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter feeds are overrun with photos of them in the following situations: On the lift! On some snow! On the lift with a beer! By the halfpipe, but also by the lift! In the parking lot, about to get on the lift! They're the people who can't possibly keep their undying love for winter sports inside them, and feel the need to broadcast it all over the place so you know, without a shadow of a doubt, that they know how to slide down a mountain on a plank at 7 a.m.
Habitat: Stuck in traffic on 1-70
Favorite website: Snowboardermag.com, Facebook
The penniless trustafarian who is only penniless in the sense that he's converted all his change to cryptocurrency
For someone whose parents own the Kroger brand, the penniless trustafarian sure does listen to a lot of ska and spend a lot of time driving his brand-new Land Rover to the slack-lining park. His dream is to hitchhike across the country someday, although his parents very graciously offered to fly him there in their jet. He loves weed and credits it for opening his mind to things his parents would never understand. He is constantly lamenting about not having enough money, which you find strange because he just got back from a three-month trip to Nicaragua. He's very into "vibes," and rests somewhere between total frat bro and dirty hippie on the douche scale.
Habitat: Wherever the vibes are chill
Oh, so you don't know the difference between a Chemex and a Moki pot? Are you sure you're qualified to drink that cup of coffee? The hipster barista stares at you condescendingly through their non-prescription readers, rolling up their sleeves to reveal an assortment of tattoos and piercings that let the world know they're alternative. When they're not knowing everything there is to know about coffee extraction, rare gin, microbrews, or Morrissey, they're in a band where they play the iPod, or they make experimental films about pillows.
Habitat: Urban Outfitters, but don't you dare tell anyone you saw them there
Favorite website: ffffound.com
This guy has embraced his manhood like a mother embraces a newborn. In addition to sprouting wiry steel wool from his face, he also chops wood shirtless, feigns an appreciation for elk and rattlesnake meat, and got his trucker's liscence so he can say "fuck you" to the man while simultaneously working for him. The beard obviously has a motorcycle, but you can't ride it because he built it himself and it'll burn your legs off.
Habitat: The open road, or the work shed, covered in grease
Artist who specializes in scream art, whatever the fuck that is
She invited you over once to "help her with a project," which you were happy to do until you found out that "helping her with a project" meant squatting in a corner, naked except for the feathers glued to your nipples, shrieking like a heron who landed in a lake of fire so she can sample your voice for her experimental art-rock-bluegrass-rap group. Laughs like Bjork, smells like oatmeal.
Habitat: The yarn store, or the bookstore pretending that she's the last person on earth that reads books
Out-of-towners who are just here for the weed
This group makes up about 90% of Colorado's population. They come from near and far; people who ditched their dismal existence in other states for the sunshine, mountains, and culture of Colorado ... and the weed. CU students from New Jersey and California, hippies from Iowa who were starved for organic produce, extreme sports enthusiasts, and writers from Brooklyn who think the mountain air will cure their restless leg syndrome are all part of this group of new Coloradans who use the square state's beauty and ease-of-living as an excuse to smoke doobies.
Habitat: All the dispensaries