Traveling to Denver, Colorado (APS Part 1)

March 14, 2026

Article Preface:

Two things:

Lots of names have been changed for privacy.
The acronym APS stands for the American Physical Society. This article and any other related ones will use this acronym a lot!

Traveling to Denver:

There was a feeling that I wished to capture for my eternal pleasure during this transit from Charlottesville to Denver. When I reflect on it, it would not have been possible to manifest had it not been for the surrounding infrastructure… which in this case I mean academia. Yes, in this case, I must be generous to academia for enabling such an opportunity (though I did pay 100% out-of-pocket for this trip). After so many years of desiring and seeking to construct this experience, I was suddenly eveloped in it: the sense of belonging and warmth evoked at the sight of all of my friends walking together as a group on the moving walkway at Dulles Airport. Yes! We were indeed in transit to to attend the American Physical Society’s 2026 Global Physics Summit!

I had always wanted to go to Colorado. About 7 years ago, I proposed the idea of taking an extended roadtrip to my Minnesota-based friends, a follow-up one to the epic South Dakota one (now a decade ago!): we would go West through Montana and then turn South in a beeline down to the Rockies. But we never managed to execute that plan. Now, though, it was time: I was going to Denver and see those oh-so-majestic mountains. If there’s time, maybe we can visit Boulder! All I know is that I wanted to throw myself into the gaze of those snow-topped mountains.

We astutely (as Antonio would say) flew from the Charlottesville airport to the Dulles airport—which we know to be only about a two-and-a-half-hour drive. The flight was even more embarrassing: “Ladies and gentlemen: our flight time will be forty-five minutes,” the flight attendant crackled over the intercom. Vecta could not contain his cynicism. “This is so stupid,” he said in the CHO airport. Indeed, it was ridiculous to fly to Dulles International Airport instead of, say, take the Amtrak or the Virginia Breeze. But I was elated: we managed to secure seats on this flight all together. It was like the adult version of Ms. Frizzle’s Magic School Bus!

This feeling of awe began welling up inside of me as early into the transit as merely passing the security checkpoint at the Charlottesville airport: seeing Anna and Amireza go through the security line was something out of a dream. I never imagined being a witness to this scene. This was the 7-year-old ache inside of me to travel to the Rockies: A mission… an objective… a purpose! And with the incredible company? Halcyon.

The flight was wonderful. Turbulent, bumpy, rough, a little scary, but downright wonderful. If I were a bottle I’d be filled to the brim with liquid elation. I was trembling in excitement. Traveling with everybody. I couldn’t believe it. It is happening now. I cannot help but think of the scene from in which the folks conducting the dream operation all see each other in the airport after they pull off their dream heist.

But the flight from Dulles to the Denver International Airport was long. I anticipated it as such, of course: we are flying over the breadth of the United States. I knew what I would do: take more notes, as I always do on flights! I have a sort of remarkable ability to buckle-up and just sit and entertain myself throughout the duration of a longer flight. That comment reminds me of a brief exchange I had at the MSP airport with a couple as I was doing some light mobility exercises, like standing ankle pumps (looking like a crazy person, yes). The man asked me, “Are you gearing up for the big run?” I said, “I’m gearing up for the big sit!” It wasn’t too long before I saw the man doing standing back twists and the woman began the standing pike stretch. (I still wonder why we don’t consider doing these light exercises more before flying! Look, I know it’s embarrassing…)

But I had to remember my main objective on this flight: when we got close to landing, I needed to see out the windows for any glance at those mountains. Luckily for me, I was a window-seater!

But the mountains were not visible. On the descent into Denver, we emerged beneath a continuum of gray, snowy clouds that swirled merely a mile above a plain of infinite extent. Is this Denver? I thought. Wasn’t Colorado supposed to be rocky, mountainous, bumpy, uneven, discontinuous? Of course, flying in from Dulles, the nose of our plane pointed directly at the mountain range, so perhaps I wouldn’t be able to see any sign of their elevation. But I was taken aback: Were there no hints that a large, rocky formation stood proximate to the city at its base?

The darkening and gloomy, gray sky, and the flatness of the city reminded me of something familiar: Minneapolis! Isn’t that unusual? If we were in the streets of Denver right now, then I cannot conceive of there being any sign of a mountain range! The flatness was straight out of the Midwest! The way that the snowy sheet draped itself over the infinitely-tesselated grid of houses and churches and concrete community centers teleported me back to driving down Lyndale Avenue in Minneapolis or Snelling Avenue in St. Paul. As I spaced out in the Uber ride on the way to the AirB&B, watching the various houses emerge out of the misty, gray snow, I caught out of the corner of my eye a collection of Chinese characters on a restaurant sign. Oh?

It was only a few minutes later that we arrived at our AirB&B. Anna had done God’s work. Part of the reason that we were all traveling together was that we were actually all staying together, too! That’s right! Anna had found an incredible deal on a large AirB&B that rested on the outer boundary of Downtown Denver, about a 25-minute walk to the Denver Convention Center. It was practically an entire house, with several rooms with multiple beds stacked into bunks, multiple bathrooms, a spacious living room continuously connected to the kitchen—it housed everybody, everywhere, all the time. After a long day of traveling, the entire group was hungry for something beyond airport food and portions. I think I know where we can go, I thought to myself.

And we set off for the restaurant. We put on our winter gear—Vecta in his puffy black-and-white-striped Adidas jacket, Perry in his puffy, radiant-blue jacket and olive-green camo pants, Anna in her black leather jacket over her favorite green Wings of Freedom hoodie—and stepped outside into the Chirstmas air. The snow was soft and gentle; it settled down upon ever-growing piles without sound. The sounds of the city were muffled by the zephyr of snow; our neighborhood was quiet and the streets were empty. The solemn, blue, wintry glow reflecting the darkening sky was in the air, and fighting for residence with the dominating, neon glow of the traffic lights perched upon each intersection. And in a snake-like fashion, our group made our way along the Denver sidewalks to the location of the Chinese restaurant.

Miraculously, the restaurant was excellent. It seated all ten of us. There was only one other group there—a couple, by the looks of it. At times during our dinner discussion, I wondered if our group of ten trounced on their smaller conversation, as they seemed to indicate a few times with a glance of exasperation, though I couldn’t be sure that was the right reading of the gentleman’s face. During some point in our dinner, the snowfall thickened outside, and its soft drift to the ground was illuminated by the orange radiance of the few streetlights placed along the road outside. What a feeling: a huge bowl of thick, warm, soothing soup, sitting at a table with all my friends, and watching the delicate, Christmas-like snowfall just outside. I was content. This was life.

Tomorrow would be an interesting day. And I looked forward to it.

Notes/References:

It is an inside joke to describe an action as “astute” because Antonio insisted on calling all of our comments and questions in class “astute.”

Updates:

2026-09-28: Name reshuffle.