Denver

After 29 hours of travelling -- through the night to get to Chicago and catching another sleeper west -- I arrived in Denver at 9am. The chill mountain winds made me regret underpacking for the first time. I caught a free bus through the small downtown area and walked up to the hostel.
The place was falling apart. The proprietor regaled me with a tale of changing the hostel's name to avoid complying with fire escape regulations as I paid my $11 for the night. It wasn't so much a low price as an apology in advance. The bed mattresses sagged over steel bars; the bathroom had large hunks of plaster missing, with the ceiling almost gone; the taps would not turn off; the door to the shower would not lock; strangers occasionally wandered in from the street.
I locked my bag's zips together, locked my bag to my bed and locked my dorm's door, and hoped that those tempted by the free entry from the fire escape would be put off by the possibly of a rusty rung giving way. I went downtown.