Listening to: Soul For Real, "Every Little Thing I Do." We brought it back to the old school this weekend. Cranking the hits, singing along to everything, making up lyrics and hitting the last word of each line loud because that's the one you definitely know is 100% correct.The much anticipated Tahoe trip finally happened and it was fantastic. All around I'd give it a solid A for awesome, except for maybe the long drive back, which included not only sleet, snow, and rain, but me proving my manhood by successfully removing a stuck snow chain from the inside of Jon G's back tire. Wait, me proving my manhood is a good thing right? A+ weekend.
Apparently there was some speculation by our so called friends that between the two Jon's, we'd never make it home because we were not exactly the handiest of men. But my extra thin hands were perfect for reaching through the brakes and nabbing the dangling cord. Sometimes it's better to be a mouse than an elephant. So after a near miss of almost rear ending a Porsche Cayenne, and driving through a virtual snowstorm, Jon G and I not only made it back to the city safely but got in some great conversation time. Did you know he used to have blonde hair and an eyebrow piercing freshman year? I need some pictorial evidence before I can fully believe it.
Snowboarding itself is a terribly expensive pursuit. A weekend away, with lift tickets costing eighty dollars a day, renting a place to stay, and investing in equipment means kind of a lot of money. For my day and a half of boarding, the trip was like three hundred. If we all could surf or something, that would have been so much cheaper. But snowboarding has mass appeal and getting away for a weekend and holing up in a cabin is a classic getaway. The promise of a fire and good company ain't bad either.
I was pumped and hyperexcited the full day before, with my energy waxing and waning as I tried to keep expectations low but morale high. Awhile ago we decided to institute a "Every Man Left Behind" policy when snowboarding since nothing's worse than having to sit around waiting for less experienced boarders. It's the best when you can just ride, chair lift, ride, chair lift, non-stop. I've been pushing for my place on "Team A," the best riders of our group, knowing in my heart that I belonged. Some doubters felt I wouldn't be able to keep up with Team A standards. Whatever. Let's call these doubters "James," just for kicks.
While life isn't all about competition, a bit of healthy ranking and competition is always good, especially for sports. Going in, I knew James and Lynn were better than me. I was damn positive Dann was better (although the mystery of how good he was, and if he was better than James, was intriguing) but thought that maybe I'd be able to sneak my way into the fantastic four -- the perfect number for one shared chairlift. My boarding nemesis, Jimmy, couldn't make the trip so I figured I was due my spot on Team A.
Well, as it turned out, I'm only Team A if we expand the definition. I forgot how good Victor was. He's low to the ground, he's fast, and he's stylish. Better than me for sure. Heck, after Alex decided to unshackle himself from George after she got tired during Day One, I think he turned out to be better than me. Luckily I changed the definition of Team A to include six riders and it was universally agreed that I was capable of keeping up with the five of them. Dann might even have said that I was better than he thought, which means either he was highly doubtful beforehand or maybe slightly impressed afterwards. I'll accept a combination of both answers.
The weather on Saturday was gorgeously warm, fantastically bright, and overall a perfect boarding day. We all boarded as a group for most of the day and there was hardly any waiting at all, which was great. Team A and Team B were hardly separated by much even if I like to make a big deal about it. Sunday's weather was rainy and snowy but served as a nice contrast to the ideal conditions the day before. When you can't clearly see the snow, it sometimes frees you to ride truer. At least I feel that way.
The thing about snowboarding is that sometimes it's so cold and wet sitting on the chairlift that you want to just give up and stop. But then the fun run down refreshes you and gives you the strength to sit on that lift again. It's a constant push-pull of "I'm done" and "One more run!" Until your legs give out though, and you start falling for no reason. That's when you know to pull the plug and head inside for hot chocolate. Umm, hot chocolate.
Our cabin was surprisingly roomy. Three levels, two bedrooms, a loft with four singles including a bunk bed. It was a perfect sleepover setup. We had a food fest. I bought thirty six eggs but someone sneakily traded it out for only twenty four. Dann insisted we get all the ingredients for puppy chow, which turned out to be harder said than done. But damn that puppy chow was addictive. Victor brought up marinated Korean style pork chops and then proceeded to pump out perfect chop after perfect chop on the grill. James kicked in with buttery roasted vegetables, Jon G made the inspired decision to buy six chicken pot pies from Ikeda's, and we had a feast all night long.
And oh the alcohol. Lynn is a legend for her drinking ability and she just kept pouring and pouring shots. Jon G and Steve had a bet to see who could stay up until three AM. Steve passed out by ten. Jon G passed out an hour after. That's what happens when you start drinking so early. I had quite a few and felt amazing, not even a headache or flushed face to show for it, despite not having Pepcid AC around. I think it was the singing.
For a solid hour and a half, we cranked up the stereo and had a guys sing-a-long to Ne-yo, Shai, Usher, and you know, the jams and the hits! There might have been some dancing too. I wished all the people who couldn't make it this weekend had come, because singing at the top of our lungs and dancing in that little cabin in Tahoe rivaled any great night out in the city.
I could go on but I'll just let the pictures and the video speak for themselves. It was a near perfect weekend, only made imperfect by how short it was. Just one more run?!?
