Kansas's beautiful blue skies gave way to an ominous gray horizon as we moved west into Colorado on I-70. When we got out of the car at Frisco, our stop for the night, I felt light-headed and woozy. With each inhalation, I felt like I was gasping for breath. My first experience with altitude sickness. I didn't sleep well that night and our brief jaunt into town revealed that city planners favor an Alpine aesthetic (an oxymoron if you ask me) and the locals to be nearly uniformly fair-skinned, blondish-haired and blue-eyed Aspen and Vail wannabes. I slept as Tim drove us out and down to altitudes with life supporting amounts of oxygen. Apparently, I missed some incredibly beautiful scenery. Whatever.
Hoh. Pete had that, too. We stayed in Aspen for a week. It got increasingly worse.
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