Timbro’s Worst First Day Ever (part 2)

There comes a time in every person's life when they genuinely feel as if they were born to lose.  Some people get this feeling all the time, and some people get this feeling as a direct result of some shitty experience or another.  I am a member of the former group.  I have a lot of "worst days ever."  Here is volume one.

Read part one so you are not blowing it.

After a victorious, but very long walk to the parking lot, I met up with my crew, who were already suited up by this point.  Unfortunately, I had to head back to the other lodge to pick up my pass, so I cut those dudes loose, and said I would meet up with them shortly.  I fired up the mini, put on some good tunes, and headed over to the main base.  I noticed that the traffic heading to the HRM lot was getting pretty thick, but didn’t really think much of it.  When I rounded the corner to the other side of the hill, I was met by two traffic attendants who said that the main lot and all the annex lots on that side of the mountain were completely full, and that they weren’t allowing any more cars up that way.  I turned around towards HRM, ubiquitous feeling of defeat in tow.  As I rounded the corner going the opposite direction, I saw another line of standstill traffic that was miles long.  Fuck my life.  Fuck it right in the ear.  I had to wait 50 minutes to end up in the same lot that I had just left.

So I get out of my car, put on all my shit, and wait in another huge line to hop on a shuttle to the other side.  The line looked like something you’d find out in front of a Bruce Springsteen concert at The Meadowlands. After I watch about six shuttles come and get filled up with pissed off weekenders, it is almost my turn.  At this moment a “mountain ambassador” walks up to the line and yells “Attention!  Anything that you want to do at the main lodge, you can do at this one!  This includes pass pictures, pass pick ups and day tickets!”

Well, shit.  Good thing I’ve been waiting for a useless shuttle for the past half hour.  I walk into the lodge, and see another huge line of people waiting for customer service. I had nothing to do but stare at the wall and listen to stupid people’s even stupider conversations.  After another half hour, it was finally my turn.  Despite my near insanity, I politely asked to get my pass.  I was hastily and rudely told that I would need to go to the other side of the mountain to get my pass.  I told her about what the ambassador said.  She didn’t care.  No pass services on this side of the mountain.  Instead, I received a one-ride voucher so I could take the lift up on this side, ride down to the other side, and get my pass there.  Fine.  Whatever.  Give me the fucking voucher.

I walked over to the HRM lift line, which was fucking huge, and tried to kill time by sending sexual innuendo-laden text messagesAfter another 30 minute wait, I was on my way up.  I made it up and back down to the other lodge in record time, and without consequence.  Good form.

I carried my board inside, went to pass services, and nearly started crying. The line here was absolutely outrageous. It made the Sprinsteen-esque shuttle line look a normal queue at the grocery store.  It was fucking massive. Wal-Mart-on-Black-Friday massive. Kurt-Cobain-coming-back-to-life-for-one-day-and-performing-a-one-off-Nirvana-concert-under-the-Space-Needle massive. Only-one-computer-on-Earth-has-free-porn massive (credit farmer). You get the idea.  But I was stuck.  My car was on the other side, I was told my lift ticket was only temporarily good, and I wasn’t about to wait in the shuttle line again.  I was going to get my fucking pass.

As I made my way towards the end of the line, an ambassador offered me a cookie.  Already massively distrustful of her type, I apprehensively agreed to a yummy cookie.  I was promptly told that I may only have one, as if I had some sort of cookie-aholism that would cause me to steal all her cookies, raise hell, quit my job, and move in to my parent’s basement.  I took the one cookie, and it sucked.

I waited in this line for two hours.  Two hours.  Two hours of my life were wasted listening moronic conversations about sororities, make up, and cute outfits.  Two hours of nothing to do but wait.  Two hours of wishing I had another cookie, even though they sucked.  Two hours of wishing I was in bed scratching my ass like I should be.

I eventually made my way up to the counter, got my picture taken, received my pass, and went outside.  I waited in line for a half hour.  Again.  When I got to the top, I realized that I was already late to meet my friends to head home, and had to go straight back to the lodge that I started at.  Someone asked me how my day was, I kind of made a joke out of it, but just under the surface my blood was boiling.  Critical mass. Tipping point.

One the way home we stopped for some pizza.  I got the shits again.  I held my cheeks together for 30 minutes again wishing that I were anywhere else.  I got home, dookied again, and realized I was twenty minutes late for work.

It was the worst opening day ever.

4 replies
  1. jb
    jb says:

    Oh God, that was awesome in a manifesto of the damned sort of way. I’d like to say been there done that but I’ve never had a day that bad. But I did nearly shart once at Breck. It was either from the OZ life on the inside landing I took in the pipe or because I was at Breck.

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