Well ladies and gentlemen, it's official. I am back in the working world. I have no idea what I was thinking.
Two years ago, I ended up cancelling a last minute trip down to Las Lenas. Naturally, right when I cancelled the Santa Rosa rolled in and dumped huge. The depression was almost crushing. A month or so later, our dear friend Mr. Sobchak planted the idea in my head that would change my life forever.
"You must carry on the proud tradition of the house. Quit your job and move to Tahoe. SuPu did it last year, I did it this year, and it's your turn."
Hmmmm... My work schedule was winding down in December which made for a good time to leave on excellent terms; I had money coming in every month for a while; and my roommates were all moving out of our old house. Fate was knocking me upside the head. So I went into my bosses office and submitted my resignation with 3 months notice. I couldn't ask for a leave. I had just taken one a little over a year before for family reasons.
"No thanks. We'll give you a leave of absence."
"Uh, sure. I'll only be gone 6 months."
"How about we give you 8?"
I was in disbelief. So I took my leave, packed up all my belongings, and moved up to the Lake just in time for the annual late December/early January pounding. Nothing like waist deep insanity on New Years.
That first winter saw me ski many days with lph and some new kid from PA; and of course, my roommates Walter and Ms. Sobchak. Whether we had just gotten 3 feet of blower or had a week of sun, each day was filled with laughter, smilies, and endless memories.
And then there was that fateful Thursday morning. The day that would be forever known as Fat Thursday. Each and every turn was a face shot. I had never skied in snow that deep. So deep, you were floating inside of the snowpack...weightless...blind...choking... The subtle movement of your skis sent you up for air or deep into the white room. Bottom? There was none.
I also got to travel a bunch. Madness at the Utah mini. My first time at Snowbird and the Basin; I was sold on both for life. A long weekend in Whistler saw two days of blissful pow and a new eye for the mountains. And that last gasp hurrah in late April when hardrider called me around 8pm and we put together a last minute flight out to SLC the next morning for three days of glorious pow at the Bird. Of course, who could forget the Mammoth mini? I love that mountain, and the crew there makes it all the better.
So there I was, 5-6 months into the journey of a lifetime. This was the time I had planned on giving myself before I went back to work. But then my sister corrupted me, “Let’s go to South America.” But…uhhhh…ok. So another adventure was planned: a week in Lenas, then a week in Bariloche. To describe it requires a thread of its own. All I can say is if you haven’t been down there yet, go. You have no idea what you’re missing.
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