Not today…
The drive down to Portland was a mere 3 hours and contained only a handful of agitated minutes as I hit the inevitable city traffic and got mildly lost on some sort of ferry ass road. I will forever associate Portland with green steel bridges as the city seems to be held together by those ugly bastards. When the light pours through the beams and criss crosses on the road in front of you, it makes driving a bit more difficult for the depth perception impaired. I felt like I was driving in the Frogger game. Aside from that, however, the drive was a breeze and it reminded me of my years in Gainesville, which were largely spent on the road, getting out of Gainesville.
I was immediately greeted with hugs from my new and exceptionally cool friends and this put me right as ease as I have found that people who make it a practice to hug are generally good people indeed. More people should hug as they meet, as they part, and sometimes just for no reason at all. I’m so used to my Florida friends who hug (at the very least) incessantly, and I always find it amusing when I run across people who are obviously quite uncomfortable with the whole endeavor (lighten up!) One beer and one smoke later and we were on the road. After a stop for supplies, a few turn arounds, and numerous attempts at navigation, we arrived at the cabin o’ goodness. Lovely conversation (who farted?), many, many beers, and one late night foray into the hot tub and we called it a successful night.
The morning came a bit too early, I don’t think I was hungover yet, I was something like still drunk. But one coffee, a large energy drink, and a few smokes later and all was right with the world once more. After seventeen layers of clothes were applied, we were ready for the mountain. The ride up was quiet as we were busy checking out the scenery and sorting out the liquids that were still doing their sweet and sickly dance round our livers. At this point, I still hadn’t decided whether I would be partaking of the action, I hadn’t really given it much thought, I was just happy to be there and in good company. About .2 seconds after arriving and checking out all the lovelies (chicks with braids and beanies are hot) in their snow gear, I decided I would give it a whirl. Boots and board in hand, we headed out to snow. About .2 seconds into our lesson I was sure I had made the wrong decision.
Let me just state for the record, that snow boarding is not easy for those who were born without an ounce of grace. And if you know me at all, you know this applies. However, we had a kick ass instructor who insisted we were all naturals. Sometimes it’s okay to be lied to. The winds were wicked and the slope was more ice than snow. This makes stopping quite difficult, but it makes gaining speed very very easy indeed. And as you’re flying down the hill, faster, faster, you realize “Fuck…I’m going to have to stop sometime” and down you go. Ass first…if you’re lucky. The instructor told us that getting on and off the lift was the most difficult part of the whole lesson. I, and my ass, disagree with this, but I will say that I rocked the whole lift thing. I’m a damn pro at that! Many, many spills later and our lesson was done. We headed inside for a well earned meal and a much appreciated beer with some more friends. It was, in fact, the best damn beer I have ever had. We earned every drop of it! We let the food settle and the beer convince us that we should go back out again. We made two more trips down the hill and ended up in the Emergency room. One broken wrist (not mine), a long wait, and a very fashionable sling later and we were back to the apartment, showered, and ready to drink. Fucking troopers, I tell you.
We went to bar one where we were assaulted by very strange construction workers who wanted to talk about the impending apocalypse. We quickly decided to move it on along. And so we settled down at bar two, whose name I have of course forgotten by now. We drank away the aches and pains of the day and cheered loudly as we watched the fantastic moves of some stellar boarders on the bar tv. We have much more respect for the sport and felt a kindred like connection with the athletes….especially when they wiped out. “Hell yea man…we feel your pain!” And we did. A lot. Especially in the ass-region. There was karaoke, confidential bathroom talks, jager bombs (what were we thinking?), and all sorts of associated nonsense.
Somehow we ended up a house party with a group of barely 21′ers. I have no idea how that happened, I take no responsibility. But we had fun, naturally, and after a bit of socializing, we called it another night for the good guys. Food and sleep and waking up to being fairly immobile….good times, good times.
My thoughts on the way home:
a) Andrea – Colleen – Dan :: You rock like no one’s business
b) Fuck my ass hurts
c) I wonder when I can come back down again
d) Boarding rules!
e) Damn my ass hurts
f) I needed this weekend getaway
g) “Not today”
h) Um, my ass really hurts
i) I really must come down again soon
j) Wait….did I mention that my ass hurts
k) It was worth every ache and pain (….and then some….)
RAWR!
