I will get to the bus story shortly, but first I'd like to address the matter of what a Mexican thinks when he walks into a ski resort. Like I said yesterday, this is an event very much akin to walking on the moon for the first time, and getting to meet all the crazy people there. This brings me to my one recurring thought about the weekend.
You people are all insane.
Seriously. What the hell is wrong with you? The temperature gauge on top of the mountain actually read -30, and the wind was making -60 degrees. These temperatures are such that the difference between Celsius and Fahrenheit is rendered moot. And there you are, willfully getting up at the crack of dawn to go hurl yourself down a mountain onto frozen water at literally thousands of miles an hour.
You people are all insane.
At some point, Green walks in, looking like Frosty the Snowman. He takes off his astronaut helmet and goes, "This is awesome, I can't close my eyelids." Right. This isn't awesome, you whacko. You need medical attention.
In fact, everyone at the ski resort needs some sort of Valium. Skiers. Any activity that requires that much preparation, this much equipment, and that much of a hassle can't possibly be natural. I mean, astronauts don't need nearly as much preparation to get into their suits. Meanwhile, I'm sitting there in my Banana Republic overcoat and jeans, bewildered and scared, looking like Osama bin Laden in a McDonald's.
Thankfully, no one crashed into a tree, or drunkenly wandered up into the mountain, or crashed through a glass door (thanks, flying kegstands!). The ski trip, therefore, was an unqualified success.
But, like I said all weekend, and believe ever more strongly now -- you people are all insane.
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