We had planned on hitting the road at 5:30, seeing Eek-a-mouse the night before helped delay the start to around 7. Groggy eyed and hung-over we were on the road, luckily Grandpa was staying in Breck and was there early enough to snag a good spot.
We pull into the lot just before 9:30 thanks to oversized parking lot that is I-70. We get right down to business. As I’m pouring the first round of car-bombs a PB’er gets tossed in my direction, reflexively I grab it pop the top and take a sip, perfect breakfast. After the second round of car bombs it was time to cook, 48 pack of sausage, check, 5lb slab of bacon, check, PB’er in hand, check. A sausage wrapped in bacon, a beer, and many shots of Jamerson (grandpa slurs his speech after a few and can’t help but add the r so now we all do) later it was time for the first, and what would be the last, run of the day.
We were riding up the Lenawee lift with Grandpa and some unsuspecting random skier who thought it would be safe to ride with us. Little did he know we have the maturity of 12 year olds when drinking and skiing together. It starts off innocently enough, he hits my ski with his pole once, and I hit him back, this escalates quicker than instant oatmeal. Basically it was the ‘your-it’ scene from dumb and dumber but on a chairlift. I swear the guy next to us was ready to jump off half way up.
The ride down was a roller coaster of confusion speed and two crashes, luckily non-injured. But I don’t think the people I ran into appreciated it too much. No more runs, time to get back to camp, fire the grill back up crack a PB’er and pass the Jam-o around. We didn’t come to ski today anyway.
We pull into the lot just before 9:30 thanks to oversized parking lot that is I-70. We get right down to business. As I’m pouring the first round of car-bombs a PB’er gets tossed in my direction, reflexively I grab it pop the top and take a sip, perfect breakfast. After the second round of car bombs it was time to cook, 48 pack of sausage, check, 5lb slab of bacon, check, PB’er in hand, check. A sausage wrapped in bacon, a beer, and many shots of Jamerson (grandpa slurs his speech after a few and can’t help but add the r so now we all do) later it was time for the first, and what would be the last, run of the day.
We were riding up the Lenawee lift with Grandpa and some unsuspecting random skier who thought it would be safe to ride with us. Little did he know we have the maturity of 12 year olds when drinking and skiing together. It starts off innocently enough, he hits my ski with his pole once, and I hit him back, this escalates quicker than instant oatmeal. Basically it was the ‘your-it’ scene from dumb and dumber but on a chairlift. I swear the guy next to us was ready to jump off half way up.
The ride down was a roller coaster of confusion speed and two crashes, luckily non-injured. But I don’t think the people I ran into appreciated it too much. No more runs, time to get back to camp, fire the grill back up crack a PB’er and pass the Jam-o around. We didn’t come to ski today anyway.
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