There Will Be Parte Dos
Hm, this seems like it should’ve been posted quite awhile ago. Oh well.
We continue our story later that night after a shower and other necessary functions after day one of snowboarding.
Hey look! It’s the Oregon-USC game on a giant plasma! Awesome! Oh no, they’re not hitting anything! Oh wait now they’ve decided to storm back with two minutes left to completely overpower the Trojans and tie the game with a second left! And now they just gave up and lost. Blech.
S’mores seemed to be a reasonable way to drown the sorrows of watching Daniel Hackett bank in two crucial threes. Notice the focus.
I’m putting on a brave face. Between what a day of snowboarding did to my body and what another blown Duck game did to my heart, I was in shambles.
The next day, this time we went to Homewood. Oliver looks the part. Me, not so much.
From the beginning, it didn’t seem like it was going to be my day. I never thought I’d long for the days of a gondola, but nothing makes you miss a gondola like taking an eight minute lift ride in heavy snow. I’ll admit it, I was scurrrrrred.
So for obvious reasons, I quit. I did one “Beginner” run, that I still maintain was no such thing. We only did a half day anyway, so it wasn’t a gigantic quit, just an ordinary-sized one.
Homewood is just a front for a mountain of lies. My supposed beginner run has temporarily derailed my dreams of snowboarding superstardom. If and when these dreams play out, I’ve decided to give myself the nickname of “The Flying Bran Muffin.”
After the mountain…
Here’s Jeff (Asian) eating some Sun-dried Tomato and Basil Wheat Thins. This may have been the best part of the trip for me. Any time you can come back from a vacation claiming a new cracker in your repertoire, it’s at least a moderate success.
View from The Chalet. I wouldn’t say we lived in the lap of luxury for a couple days, but we lived in the lap of luxury for a couple days. We cocoaed, ate hummus, overpriced pizza, mozzerella sticks, and almost died from Oliver starting a fire in his fireplace that sent smoke and fumes to the upstairs part of the house.
Chandelier.
Oliver brushing his teeth. You’re welcome for such an inside peek at my life.
Our steed for the drives to and from Reno and Tahoe. I played no part in digging it out because I was too busy fearing that we may be snowed in until April. Turns out everybody else de-snowed the car in about six minutes. Oops.
The Chalet, itself. Honestly, we were just grateful that Oli didn’t burn it down. For serious.
Jeff made this. I’ll be honest, it’s just as funny now as it was then, which, for the record, is very.
Clearly, Jeff (Asian) didn’t have the energy to stay awake during the drive back after crafting such a magnificent snow-peen.
I dominated a video blackjack machine in the Reno Airport. And then I lost a dollar. And then all flights were cancelled. And then we checked into a hotel whose name is also surely the name of a gay bar somewhere.
I give you, The Peppermill! Jeff and Oli gambled more, I watched briefly before slipping into a terrible bed for a three and a half hour nap. I will say this: Reno is the single worst place I’ve ever been to in the world.
You can go to hell, Reno.
No more snowboarding for at least 2008.
