Construction Watch

Ten Things Worse Than Construction on Brighton Boulevard

Brandon Marshall
There's no doubt: Denver is growing. With this growth comes change, and with this change comes issues. And with these issues come super-angry Denver residents. The newest pissy nest of resentment? RiNo. The River North neighborhood is especially mad about the Brighton Boulevard construction, with its massive detours and endless lines of traffic that wear on local nerves like Zooey Deschanel (you know, with her big stupid doe eyes).

RiNo has already had its share of ups and downs over the last year, and now, during the middle of summer festival season, most of the neighborhood is lousy with detours. So to get your mind off your horrific commute, we put together a list of things far worse than the B.B. traffic in RiNo. Think “Road Closed” signs are annoying? They have nothing on these elements of Denver's very own Dante-esque hellscape, kids.

1. Visiting Suburbanites
If you live in RiNo, Curtis Park, Cole, Whittier or Five Points, you understand the A train and the ridiculousness it brings into the surrounding neighborhoods. Enter suburbanites: the visor-wearing, cargo-shorted crowds who flock to RiNo on Saturdays and Sundays and flood the Denver Central Market with their ginormous strollers and belief that they’re so “city.” Most of the visiting suburbanites are too frightened to actually experience the true culture of the neighborhood, so they huddle in breweries and drunkenly scamper back to the train before the sun goes down. They shield their children from the homeless and hold up sidewalk and street traffic by snapping pictures of their kids in front of Denver’s best murals.

Words of advice: If you’re coming into a neighborhood that’s not yours? Be considerate of the people, culture and pace. The natural inhabitants of RiNo aren’t zoo animals here to entertain you.

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They will eat you and your little car, too.
2. Potholes
With construction comes ginormous trucks, and with ginormous trucks come gaping potholes, and with gaping potholes come empty bank accounts. These masters of destruction are completely unavoidable, and they'll devour your car before you’ve even realized what’s happened. Before you know it, you're stuck on Market Street, other drivers honking, car smoking, soaked in sweat and tears. And don’t try to contact the city to pay for your repairs, friends. They’ll give you the runaround for three months only to tell you that they can’t help you and to contact your insurance. Because: The Man.

Words of Advice: Drive slowly. Oh. So. Slowly.



3. Popped-collar professionals
Think Leonardo DiCaprio in Wolf on Wall Street but without the money or unbelievable good looks. If you’ve been to Matchbox on a Friday night, you know that a swarm of Denver’s popped-collar professionals take over the venue after work. They get sloppy drunk (like tequila-in-Mexico drunk), start fights, grope and harass women sitting at the bar, and only play decades-old top 40 on the jukebox (seriously — we heard Shakira last week). They’re vulgar, inconsiderate, and suck the fun out of what would normally be a chill Friday night.

Words of Advice: Slow down on the booze, go back to 15th and Market, and please stop hitting on ladies at the bar. We. Aren’t. Interested.

We're secretly hoping you fall off.
4. Booze cruisers
You can hear the hoots and Spice Girls two miles away. Bachelorette parties dressed in — 80s attire roll by, barely holding onto their bike bars. We can’t decide if it's the traffic jam they cause that gets to us or the panic that sets in when you see a bike park right outside a bar you’re in. Regardless, the relentless pedaling, bad music and apparently mandatory high-pitched screaming is far worse than any detour we can possibly imagine.

Words of advice: Don’t take it personally when you see us giving you dirty looks. It’s us, not you.

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No wait is too long for these bagels. Seriously.
5. The line at Rosenberg's
Rosenberg's has become the hung-over person’s must-have on a weekend morning. Unfortunately, drinkers don’t rise and shine until well after 10 a.m., and the bagel lines at that time of the morning are horrendous (and they should be!). Because the bagels are the best in the entire universe (or at least in Denver), and because Joshua Pollack, owner and overall awesome dude, is a nice fella and doesn’t demand that his staff scream at people who have zero idea what “the Standard” is, the wait seems unbearable. Just when you’re about to pass out, the staff smiles, says “Hello,” and your carbalicious dreams are answered.

Words of advice: Know what you want before you roll into the joint. Please. Do it for the drinkers.

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Stephanie March
Contact: Stephanie March

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