This year, one of my regrets was not heading to the snow. There were a great deal of factors that inhibited my goal of punishing the cold crisp slopes with my snowboard named “Woodrow Wilson”, but in all reality, it was inevitably my own fault for not being proactive in following my own needs and desires at that moment in time. Sure, you might think; “hey jerkface, get over it!, it’s only the snow! It’s cold, wet, hard when compacted and a waste of money!” and my reaction to that would be two things; 1) amazement of how specific your thoughts are and 2) how you couldn’t be any more wrong!
Last year a few friends and myself embarked on a snow trip that was later to be recalled as epic, and even further than that, maybe possibly recalled as the best trip to date! The snow fields of Thredbo were constantly fresh with powder and amazing runs, where I felt my skill level get shaken up and improved quickly and easily. I felt like I was in my element, just like everyone else. The group just clicked so easily; each good day of sweet snow action was followed by hilarious fun nights. Who can resist nights of drinking, playing UNO and sass talking with no regards to anything at all? I don’t think any reasonable human can.
So this leads to the final night of the epic trip, which had your humble narrator speaking in tongues and walking around like a zombie, it was a night I would like to call:
Peach schnapps and the 9 foot curtain battle.
A wild draw four was hurled down at the table, followed by a hearty yell of “drink motherfucker, you got fucking owned!” this came from a young grrrl by the name of Montana, who was sitting next to Dans Pies and Eds. This yell was aimed at me, as this night my luck with the cards ran out and I had a whole team of friends wanting my head on the chopping block. Maybe it was my own fault, since every night before this one I won a fair amount of games and avoided the punishment that came with coming last, a double shot of peach schnapps. Maybe it was the sight of a sober Spanish punk each night of the epic snow trip that made my good friends team up and destroy my ability to remain sober. Either way, I was in trouble.
Round after round of UNO was played, and each time I met the same fate, a double shot of sickly sweet peach schnapps. It was going to be a very long night indeed. Eventually we stopped playing cards and figured out what we should have for dinner, and since it was the last night we were at the snow together we thought about heading out into the cold to the local RSL club to enjoy a steak. Montana, Dans Pies, Eds, Ceydaaaa and myself all loaded into two cars and rolled to our destination, by this point my face was truly numb, I was loud, accident prone and hilariously drunk. We arranged to meet up with some other friends while we’re there and settled in for a few hours.
We ordered our meals and made trips to the bar, getting more evil spirits to fuel the rocket ships of our boozer buzz. Inside this large establishment was an indoor BBQ, next to the arcade machines and near large windows that contained larger curtains. We positioned ourselves here for convenience, warmth and a chance to kick ass at Daytona USA. I kept jumping up and checking out the food that was getting cooked and playing a few rounds of Daytona, whilst then returning to my chair.
My chair at this point kept sliding underneath the 9ft tall curtains and each time I sat down I could feel strain from the curtains that were constantly drifting over my seat. And in my drunken state I thought, “FUCK! HAVE TO MOVE THIS FREAKING CRAPPY CURTAIN!” and instead of just pushing it aside, I decided to pull at the curtain and rip it from its rails… this went on for an hour. So imagine between bites of my brilliantly cooked steak, sips of my beers, loud rants to friends; I was pulling at this huge freaking curtain permanently damaging it from its rails! And all this was about as quiet as a riot in a prison block! My friends at this point were beginning to be a bit concerned that security will be called and we would have to pay for damages, so we all just up and left back to the lodge, leaving behind a large curtain system strewn across the floor disconnected from its rails up above.
So this epic snow trip ended with drunken destruction. I’m sure the bar staff eventually found the damage and cursed the day that they handed some schnapps to a Peruvian beanie wearing punk… but in the end, it was a brilliant night, and I wouldn’t change a thing. Except maybe my hatred towards those curtains.