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March 02, 2006
SkiVo
Since arriving in New York after grad school, I've become part of a few rituals or traditions that make March and early April the best month of the year. The two best in particular are things I look forward to literally all year long, things that provide a carrot at the end of winter's stick and have me looking forward to next year's version even as this year's is coming to an end. The first is the auction draft for our Fantasy Baseball league (which is as of today only 30 days away!)... that's the single best day of the year -- screw Christmas or my birthday or the fourth of July.
The other tradition I've really come to love is our annual ski weekend at Killington. Every year in March, Tim and his wife, the Doc and Mrs. Doc, and about a dozen other good friends and I go in on a four day skiing and steam-blowing-off weekend in Vermont, renting out one of these houses and spending a Thursday through Sunday on the slopes, at the spa, in the hot tub, and out and about in Killington. (Okay, all you western US skiers, I know Vermont doesn't compare to Aspen or Tahoe or the Wasatch, but it's what we have on the east coast and it's a great time, so I don't want to hear it.)
This year's trip is this weekend. I'm not there.
I'm leading a new project at work that is right in the middle of crunch time right now, and there was no way that I was going to be able to skip out for two work days in the middle of the critical point. So while everyone else piled into SUVs and four wheel drives and headed up to the mountain this morning, I was working. (It just had to snow today and remind me of what I'm missing, didn't it?) And damn if I'm not really wistfully missing being there with my friends right now. So here's my replay from years past... my SkiVo, if you will.
Upon arrival this afternoon, everyone would first have gotten unpacked and settled in... by 6:00 or so, someone would have grill duty and be grilling up some burgers and dogs and veggies and chicken while half the party hung out in the 7 person hot tub and the other half gathered in front of the fireplace and watching the big screen. Tonight would be all about the hot tub and the partying; they'll all be up until at least 1 or 2, consuming many cases of beer and several bottles of wine among the 16 people in the house, and generally behaving like high schoolers whose parents are away for the weekend.
Tomorrow, most everyone will be up by 8:00 am, and they'll be on the mountain for some of the first runs of the morning. One or two always hang back and just enjoy the chance to read a book or not have four year olds calling from the bathroom and asking to be wiped, but most everyone's on the mountain for a good part of the morning. We have lunch at the Peak Lodge at the top of the mountain (food is mediocre, but you can't beat the view), go for a few more runs, and then usually everyone's back at the house by around 2:00 or 3:00. As many as can fit wedge into the hot tub, while the rest play pool downstairs or watch a DVD or play a game of some sort. Friday afternoon is usually the one night we'll head out on the town: dinner at the Grist Mill, then drinks and live music at The Pickle Barrel before coming back to the house (usually for more hot tub ugliness).
Saturday morning - up by 8 or 9 and back on the mountain again, although some of us have been known to come in early and head off to The Spa At The Woods. After an afternoon of pool and hot tub and usually college basketball on TV, we started a new tradition last year: Saturday night, it's the ladies' night off, and the boys cook dinner. Last year, we decided on seafood, and I dare say that between grilled salmon with dill, lobster claws, pan-seared scallops, and a few veggie and potato sides we whipped up, we boys did ourselves proud. I mean, we feasted that night. Would have been fun to see what we came up with this year. Sunday everyone gets in a few last runs on the mountain before having to vacate the house by noon, and then it's on the road again home to New York and points south.
All in all, these are four of the best days of the entire year. Great friends. Great food. Great times. Hot tubs. And this year, I'm not there. Because of work. But I'm not bitter or anything. At all.
In case they got Net access up in that house yet and any of you are reading this, Tim/Doc/respective missuses, I hope y'all are having a blast and living it up like Hasselhoff. Go to 595 for me, boys.
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Comments
Sorry you're missing the fun... I know how much you all look forward to it.
Posted by: Shari at March 3, 2006 11:57 AM
Sorry you're missing this weekend.
Posted by: curmymom at March 3, 2006 11:53 PM
Man, that sounds awesome. I can smell the hot dogs and hamburgers and feel the uncomfortable "There are too many of us in the hottub". Don't worry, yo, soon enough you'll own a place in VT or Tahoe and you can remember this sacrifice year.
Posted by: thebeav at March 4, 2006 01:17 PM
Thanks everyone. I'm actually really down about missing this -- which is stupid, but it's gotten to me. We've gone in 2000, 2003, 2004, 2005... it almost doesn't feel like a real March unless the ski weekend's happened.
Except that it did happen, I just couldn't go. And I think that I have found something worse than not getting invited to the party that all the cool kids are going to: getting invited, and having to say no. Not being there sucks. Waaaaaaaah.
I might try to organize my own trip for like November or something. Just because I'm not letting 2006 go by without going skiing in Killington.
Posted by: Curmudgeon at March 4, 2006 05:55 PM
