Audio By Carbonatix
Fear of flying. There are a few places in town I’ve always wanted to try, but they don’t seem like the kind of spot a woman should visit alone. And so every time I drove past the Piper Inn, I felt like I’d had my wings clipped. I’d been driving past since I was a kid, and the no-frills exterior always caught my eye. Finally one recent Saturday, a friend and I decided it was high time for a cocktail, and pulled into the Piper Inn’s parking lot. Turns out that fifty-plus years ago, the Piper Inn — named for the dirt airstrip across the street — was a spot where farmers from Aurora and Denver would stop and hitch their horses while they put a little hitch in their giddyup. Today it’s a great neighborhood bar, serving non-stop cocktails and its famous chicken wings to everyone from tattooed bikers to grandmothers on oxygen to Norm-like barflies who know everything about the place and the people. Damien, a regular since he moved to Colorado eight years ago, told us that the Piper’s reputation as a biker bar is overblown, since he’s only seen three fights there. And that, I responded, was a better record than that of most first-class establishments in Cherry Creek. Damien also suggested that I try a Colorado Bulldog ($6.50), made with Kahlúa, well vodka, milk and a splash of Coke. A twist on the original White Russian, it reminded me of a drink that Laverne and/or Shirley would enjoy. Even so, by the time I left I was flying high, happy to know that the next time I’m by the Piper Inn, I can stop in to refuel without a co-pilot.
