tales from a non-skiing ski weekend

If ever there was a weekend to perfectly exemplify our travel style, this past weekend in New Hampshire was it. True to form, we made a plan, confirmed the details, and abandoned ship immediately upon arrival.

I swear we left with the best of intentions.

The plan: Drive to New Hampshire Friday night, enjoy a day of skiing & a night of red wine and Italian food on Saturday, and conquer another half day of skiing on Sunday. Full disclosure: we never deliver on that half day, but we always plan for it as if this just might be our year.

The reality: None of the above, with the obvious exception of red wine and Italian food.

Here is how things went awry…

1. We discovered the worst waitress in America. Stemming from an absurd dinner stop this summer that was straight out of Deliverance (in Connecticut, no less), we can no longer just eat dinner anywhere. We demand an experience, and we decided to cash in at P.F. Chang’s in Farmington, CT. “Ask, and you shall receive” is no joke, kids.

Our experience came in the form of a gum drop of a waitress. If you go to the P.F. Chang’s in Farmington and an over-zealous waitress talking louder than is socially acceptable tells you her name is Stacey no less than three times, do not be dissuaded. Stick around and wait for the magic to happen, as it did for us:

• After placing our order, Stacey looked horrified that non-vegetarians would order tofu. Stacey knew we weren’t vegetarians because her response was, “Is one of you a… vegetarian?”
• Stacey grimaced at K for revealing he grew up in Texas–after an absurd amount of prodding on Stacey’s part to reveal where we each grew up.
• Stacey stared at the hubs for an awkwardly long time before frowning and informing him that he “has a very unique look.” When I said, “You mean handsome?” (with fire in my voice, naturally) Stacey replied, “Uh yeah, that’ll work. I guess.”
• After we ordered water three times to no avail, Stacey said “Y’all better drink it if I’m going to do the extra work to bring you water.”

Rather than jab a chopstick in Stacey’s eye, we turned her into a “what WILL she do next?” sort of game… but weren’t sad to say goodbye.

2. Because of our choice to have a longer dinner, we hit near whiteout conditions in Vermont, which meant a 1 AM arrival in New Hampshire. Once K got us to New Hampshire safely, things continued to spiral out of control when our tiny little rental car got stuck at the bottom of the hill up to B’s parents’ house and we had to walk the last 200 feet in the snow, with all our luggage and groceries. The snow trudging meant that a glass of victory wine celebrating our arrival was necessary, which THEN meant a 3 AM bedtime because one glass of wine turned into I-don’t-know-how-many beers. Standard.

3. Six hours later, we rose to our alarm clocks, not so ready to take on the day. What I’m saying is, suddenly snuggling inside seemed much more appealing and zero desire to ski + 100% desire to day-drink = no thank you, slopes. Mathematics!

K surveyed the scene and after a quick debate on whether we REALLY just drove five hours to New Hampshire only to abandon the ski plan (by quick debate I mean a lot of “well, what do YOU want to do” and a Best Out of Seven coin flip that told us FIVE TIMES to go skiing), it was settled. We would go buy a lot of beer and a lot of cheap sleds–and at a New Hampshire Walmart, no less! Guys, this was the real deal.

There were snow angels.

 There were sledding races.

There was Cruel Intentions (THROWBACK), serious afternoon naps, and a crazy little cat named Saucy.

There was another year of overstaying our welcome at Three Tomatoes.

And another year where we didn’t even entertain that Sunday half day of skiing come the next morning.

The real lesson here: lazy traveler or not, when you hit a domino effect of absurd experiences in a short amount of time while traveling, make sure you’re with people who can roll with the punches (and that you’re one of those people). I can think of plenty of people who would have taken the front end of this trip and turned it into an automatic downer of a weekend–the #2‘s of this world, mostly.

When it comes down to it, there are few people–and no other types of travelers–that I would have rather had with me on a Saturday morning in New Hampshire, debating the pros and cons of skiing vs. day-drinking.

xo!

the romantic