It’s nearly spring kiddies, meaning tons of people will head out for spring break. Most people head south for the warmer weather, sandy beaches, topless women, and Girls Gone Wild outtakes. In college this wasn’t the case for me. My first "spring break" was spent in Alaska with my family. We flew up to Anchorage to see my brother for a week. It seemed like a bad idea, but we really had a wonderful time.
The following year my buddy Scott (my adversary in the cake debate) and I took a road trip to Canada for a little ski trip. (NOTE: this is a long-ish story so I will keep the paragraphs short for those who skim read like myself) We used his parents dependable blue early 80’s Toyota Corolla. It did the trick for us as we navigated our way through the winding roads of the Canadian Okanagan region.
The first night we discovered a snowy campground with a few wood tables under a protected shelter. Another group of people already staked out the tables. We propped our tent on top of the snow under a spruce tree, using the car headlights as a light source. It was nice and cozy in the tent until someone (or something) spooked us by tapping on our tent. The person walked around our tent for awhile and then it went silent. Dammit, then something else hit the tent. Was it a snowball or an animal? Scott and I were freaked out. I poked my head out of the tent and didn’t see anything. Needless to say I had visions of serial killer outside our tent the rest of the night.
The next morning we continued our trip, arriving in Kelowna, British Columbia in the late afternoon. We were dog tired from the drive and not so great sleep in our tent the night before. Neither of us had much money on us, thank god for those first credit cards. We were cheap bastards and attempted to find a "free" place to stay in Kelowna.
The ski resort, Big White, was roughly another hour or so outside of town. The weather was shitty with low visibility. We searched around Kelowna for some overnight accommodations such as dorms. We found a couple promising places, but decided against staying in town. Instead we got a wild hair and said we would forge on, driving up to the ski resort in a virtual white out.
We made it to the snowy resort in one piece, think The Shining. We ditched our belongings in the car and chowed down some food at the first bar we spied. The next order of business was to find an abode to for the night. Well, that came after we threw back some brewskis in the bar while hearing that damn Tom Cochrane, Life is a Highway, song ad nauseum. We mingled in the bar, flirted with the ladies, and continued to get drunker and drunker. See Canada’s drinking age is 19 so we felt so cool… for a while.
Unfortunately the two drunk hornballs, us, still didn’t have a place to crash. We decided to look around the village for somewhere we could curl up and rest for a few hours before hitting the slopes in the morning. We gained access to one of the village hotels and seriously contemplated sleeping in a stairwell. Wiped out, we crashed there for about five minutes and then opted out on this plan. We hunted some more, but nothing turned up. Therefore we took our sorry asses back to the tiny Toyota Corolla and attempted to sleep in the car. Yeah, sleeping in a car at a ski resort in the mountains isn’t always the best idea.
It was the worst night of sleep in my life. I was so damn cold I put my coat on backwards, placed flannel boxers over my head, and socks over my hands in an attempt to stay warm. The windows were all foggy and so was my mind. The two of us kept asking each other if we were sleeping. We were so miserable from the long day of driving, the alcohol in our system, the cold, and raging hormones. I think the longest I slept that night was about 20 minutes.
Around five in the morning, exhausted.. yet ready to take on the mountain, we decided to venture out of the tiny sedan since sleep wasn’t on our side. We wander over to the hotel and chat with the front desk clerk. She told us (I can’t remember if it was a man or woman, so let’s say woman) a room was available. Scott and I looked at each other with a slight smile and sleep on our minds. She told us we could have had the room for essentially two nights had we stopped in after midnight. It was nice of her to share this information, but the news stung us hard. Why didn’t we think to inquire about this instead of the stairwells? I guess we weren’t as wise as we thought. (oh, it was a male hotel clerk and not a woman… it’s coming back to me now.)
We took a three hour nap and then hit the slopes that morning. I have never skied so much in one day of my life. We made sure we would get the most bang for our buck. We started skiing at 10 am and didn’t really stop until about 10 pm. Life was awesome and I slept like a baby that night. Oh the memories. This was without a doubt the most memorable trip I ever took in college and still brings a grin to my face as I attempt to relive it.
Many of you asked about the pint glass grab and I’m here to deliver. Take a look at that photo very carefully. See how her right index finger comes up over the rim of the green Solo™ cup? That’s unnatural and a dead giveaway of someone who will test your limits. I’ve done extensive research on cup/glass grips and the results are conclusive –> anytime the index finger is over the rim of the beverage container, you should automatically distrust said person. You will have to take my word on this one, plus look at the angle of her wrist. So odd I tell you.
TODAY’S RULED OUT BABY NAMES: Davenna, Randria, Markina, Bobette, Johnlisa, and Paulina.