That’s how I felt after my 25-plus hour odyssey to get to Breckenridge this weekend. My original plan was to arrive by late afternoon on Friday. However, that didn’t work out (see “Note to Alanis”) and I didn’t get to my hotel until 2 am on Saturday. Another 20 minutes were lost looking for the night desk clerk, but then it was smooth sailing and I was asleep, sort of, by 4 am.
I woke up, again, sort of, at 7 to blue skies and a nose full of grief. The altitude, the remnants of my cold and the stank of the rental car combined to completely congest and disorient me. (Never underestimate the power of smell, and if you don’t know what I mean, read “Jitterbug Perfume” by Tom Robbins.) Add fatigue to that and, well, if someone told me I was at Woodstock, I think I would have believed it.
Saturday is lost in a haze. I know I ate, snowboarded for a few hours, made dinner and slept. But there was no edge to the day, no high or low point. At least the photos I took were a little more in focus.
Nice photos. So did you actually shred the “Devils Crotch”?
Comment by Joe — December 12, 2006 @ 2:02 am
Didn’t shred it because it was “that time of the month” and the creek was flowing at the end of it. Ew.
Comment by Monkey — December 12, 2006 @ 10:19 am
You used ‘stank” in two postings.
hee hee. hee heee.
Comment by Psycho — December 18, 2006 @ 4:52 pm