The Boulder-famous Dark Horse restaurant photographed on Feb 24th, 2026. (Peter FitzGerald/CU Independent)
Alexia: Hi! I’m Alexia Bailey, a sophomore here at CU Boulder. While I may just be in my second year, I’m here to share everything I’ve picked up so far, which is a surprising amount of information. “What’s Eating at Alexia” is my unofficial and unfiltered guide to some of the things that being a CU Boulder Buff brings. Think of it as your guide to navigating everything that makes CU Boulder, well, CU Boulder. Whether you’re a freshman finding your footing or a senior with “no body, no crime” level grievances about finals week, I’m here to share my takes, tips and honest observations on everything from the sometimes-unpredictable Buff Bus system to navigating campus protests (or dodging them entirely). College is a wild, unforgettable ride, and “What’s eating at Alexia” is here to make sense of some of it, one opinion at a time.
The first time I went to Dark Horse, it was in a last-resort effort to keep my freshman year friend group together. By that point in the semester, the slow unraveling had already begun. People had found new routines, new circles and new reasons to be “busy.” Someone suggested burgers, someone else said “that weird place by Williams Village,” and suddenly we were walking from the Kittredge dorms and heading over like it might somehow fix everything.
Once we arrived, I realized that you’d be hard-pressed to find a restaurant, dining and drinking experience quite like what you’d find at Dark Horse. Tucked in a corner near William’s Village, Dark Horse has always felt a little out of place in the best way possible. The building itself looks like something dropped straight out of another era, its walls crowded with decades of memorabilia, oddities, and the kind of décor that makes you stop mid-conversation just to point something out above your head.
Walking in, you’re greeted not just by the smell of burgers and fries, but by the loud thrum of conversation, clinking glasses, and the kind of energy that only comes from a place that’s been a community staple for generations. It’s the type of spot where first-years celebrate their first week of freedom, seniors toast to the end of four years, and locals settle into the same booth they’ve been claiming for decades.
For many students at the University of Colorado Boulder, it’s where birthdays are celebrated with greasy baskets of food and pitchers that seem to last forever. It’s where you squeeze through the doors in hopes of having one last drink after graduation. It’s the restaurant that you take your parents to during parents’ weekend and watch as they settle into the atmosphere. As a sophomore here at CU, saying goodbye feels so strange. I’d only just begun to get to know the questionable drawings on its walls and the strange collection of trinkets hanging from the ceiling. Every visit felt like discovering a new corner of the place. I’m saddened to know that I won’t get to do the Boulder tradition of spending my 21st birthday there, nor will my little brother be able to introduce it to his friends when he goes to CU.
When the doors of the oddly comforting community staple close on March 14th, I cannot ignore that the building won’t sit empty for long. In a twist that feels almost too on-the-nose for Boulder, the site is expected to be redeveloped into student housing, among other things. In many ways, it makes sense. Boulder has been grappling with a housing shortage for years, and the demand for beds near campus seems to grow with every incoming class. More housing will mean more students able to live closer to the university instead of commuting from farther away. It’s a great housing location as well, close to McDonald’s, campus, and William’s Village. I can’t say I’m not thrilled at the prospect of more student housing, at the idea that, one day, students will move in and carry boxes up freshly painted stairwells and prop open windows that face the same streets where Dark Horse once stood. Some of them may have heard about the place in passing, but most of them won’t think about it much at all.
But for now, in this sad moment, I’ll remember that one night freshman year when a group of friends walked over from Kittredge, hoping a greasy dinner at a strange little place might somehow keep everything from falling apart. It didn’t, of course, but for a couple of hours, sitting on a barstool, it felt like maybe it could.
Thank you, Dark Horse. We’ll miss you, and we’ll be waiting for the day you come back.
Contact CU Independent Opinion Editor Alexia Bailey at alexia.bailey@colorado.edu
