Typical Whistler
Julia says she has never had a bad night up at Whistler. I believe her, I haven't either.
We got out of town in the rain, Friday afternoon, and as tradition dictates stopped in Squamish to take in the Chief and the McDonald's fireplace. Such a strange McDonalds. Julia is one of my friends that I never keep in touch with, but we fall right back into knowing each other as if we'd never left. I guess that is the friendship that comes after 21 years.
We swept out the door around nine, after four beers to start the evening off. I should have sensed trouble as I sat around in the cab feeling far too sober. Three martinis at dinner later, we wandered through the village between points 'A' and 'B', past a few bars, and along to point 'C' before coming back to where we'd started to reassess. Of course it didn't take long.
He owned a bar in Seattle, as did a few of his friends. They were up in town for a bachelor-party style weekend. We benefited. Julia feigned disinterest at his offer of shots. Of course we traipsed into the bar after a few minutes, it was getting cold outside and who turns down shots?
The night progressed, and we continued to drink and led them back to another bar. I had given up after the Irish Carbomb. I was into superiority mode, and one of them was buying it... expressing his belief that I was the most incredible person he had ever met. I agreed that I probably was. That's how it goes sometimes. Also ran into an old non-friend, whose number now sits on my ratty number sheet (must get a phone book for Vancouver!) and who will apparently be calling me soon. Julia is convinced he wants in my pants, I agree, but don't see why that should prevent us from hanging out.
When the lights came up we staggered out of the bar, thankfully there was no repeat of our previous escapades, and we made it to the cabstand without falling down any stairs. Success! Home met us with warm food, water and a soak in the hot tub, we crawled into bed around four.
Yesterday we were far too hungover to do anything but watch movies and moan. It rained, and we decided to head back to town once our headaches subsided. Twenty-eight hours in Whistler were, as always, amazing.
Last night I was planning a night in with some pay-per-view movies, but my plans were interrupted by msn. Sweet sweet internet, I am back up and running on my own machine, with my music. The melancholy tones of Dashboard are keeping my dreary morning company as it drifts into the afternoon. Last night was a typical Vancouver evening: early, sober. My breakup with Montreal continues, and I am exhibiting all the signs. Obsessive behaviour, sadness, the urge to find something to fill the void. I spoke to him this morning for the first time in a long time, or what feels like a long time. As we were arguing over the spelling of holy, I suddenly realized that we might never fight in person again, and a wave of sadness swept over me. How much did I lose when I left?
We got out of town in the rain, Friday afternoon, and as tradition dictates stopped in Squamish to take in the Chief and the McDonald's fireplace. Such a strange McDonalds. Julia is one of my friends that I never keep in touch with, but we fall right back into knowing each other as if we'd never left. I guess that is the friendship that comes after 21 years.
We swept out the door around nine, after four beers to start the evening off. I should have sensed trouble as I sat around in the cab feeling far too sober. Three martinis at dinner later, we wandered through the village between points 'A' and 'B', past a few bars, and along to point 'C' before coming back to where we'd started to reassess. Of course it didn't take long.
He owned a bar in Seattle, as did a few of his friends. They were up in town for a bachelor-party style weekend. We benefited. Julia feigned disinterest at his offer of shots. Of course we traipsed into the bar after a few minutes, it was getting cold outside and who turns down shots?
The night progressed, and we continued to drink and led them back to another bar. I had given up after the Irish Carbomb. I was into superiority mode, and one of them was buying it... expressing his belief that I was the most incredible person he had ever met. I agreed that I probably was. That's how it goes sometimes. Also ran into an old non-friend, whose number now sits on my ratty number sheet (must get a phone book for Vancouver!) and who will apparently be calling me soon. Julia is convinced he wants in my pants, I agree, but don't see why that should prevent us from hanging out.
When the lights came up we staggered out of the bar, thankfully there was no repeat of our previous escapades, and we made it to the cabstand without falling down any stairs. Success! Home met us with warm food, water and a soak in the hot tub, we crawled into bed around four.
Yesterday we were far too hungover to do anything but watch movies and moan. It rained, and we decided to head back to town once our headaches subsided. Twenty-eight hours in Whistler were, as always, amazing.
Last night I was planning a night in with some pay-per-view movies, but my plans were interrupted by msn. Sweet sweet internet, I am back up and running on my own machine, with my music. The melancholy tones of Dashboard are keeping my dreary morning company as it drifts into the afternoon. Last night was a typical Vancouver evening: early, sober. My breakup with Montreal continues, and I am exhibiting all the signs. Obsessive behaviour, sadness, the urge to find something to fill the void. I spoke to him this morning for the first time in a long time, or what feels like a long time. As we were arguing over the spelling of holy, I suddenly realized that we might never fight in person again, and a wave of sadness swept over me. How much did I lose when I left?
posted by Care @ 6:00 p.m.
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