FROM 1/4/08:
art of the reason I have essentially never traveled by myself abroad is simply because I have never desired to do so. Truthfully, I do not even desire to do so now. I would prefer the company of friends and loved ones, but, in light of the fact that these same people often do not have the same interests or opportunities that I do, I will have to make do. The reason for this feeling, I believe, is because of how profoundly isolating foreign travel is. A different language, a different culture, a different people, and a different location thousands of miles from home force the idea of separation on you. In small quantities this feeling is not bad, and can even be enjoyable in a way, but I have generally felt it to be a downside when it comes to international travel. Not that it'd prevent me from doing it, but I certainly don't like traveling far far away *because* it makes me feel different than other people.
To drag this thought on a bit longer, I think this sense of "aloneness" is only exacerbated by the fact that foreign travel is usually accompanied by a feeling, at least for myself, of adventurism -- a form of romanticism. It is exciting, new, and adventurous -- even if in a relatively controlled and unadventurous sort of way -- and it generally serves to both increase your basal adrenalin secretions and awaken your senses ever so slightly. How could you not want to share this experience with someone then? Certainly words will never suffice and pictures, though lovely, are only pictures. It is because of this romantic adventuristic spirit that I feel the sense of isolation has been only all the more prominent for me. Not that I feel lonely -- that is certainly not the case -- and not that I am unhappy with my experiences so far -- by and large these first few days are going great -- it is just that I acutely feel the desire to be sharing in my travels with others. I've noticed that marigolds seem to be the flower du jure in Dubai as they are planted in great beautiful numbers all along the city's main thoroughfares, but no matter how much detail I may go into explaining this fact and no matter how great my photos of these long, stretching lanes of flowers may be, the image I create and the image I am experiencing will never match. A shame.
All that ho hum aside, life in Dubai is good. The trip did not start off entirely well as my first flight from San Antonio to Houston was almost subverted by my own silliness as I tried to check in at the Southwestern kiosks for a Continental flight, but after some gentle correction I was on my way. The Emirates flight was packed and the 777 we flew on was huge. I found my way to my economy class seat, dutifuly put up my luggage, and then did not move for 13 hours. For all the restrictions in movement, though, the individual television screens just about made up for it. I watched some Simpsons, some Scrubs, some Transformers and Balls of Fury (both fairly terrible movies), and played a variety of video games so that, despite not really sleeping at all, the flight went by relatively quickly. This was even with the extra hour added on to defrost the pooper which had apparently somehow frozen over (in Houston of all places.) The highlight of the trip, however, was the food. Perhaps because it is generally never served on domestic flights anymore, or perhaps I just get excited about stupid things, but in-flight meals have always made me happy. It is almost kind of like eating around a campfire. The food is not usually anything great, but the experience is.
My night in Dubai was uneventful as it was late, I had already eaten, and so simply checked into my room and went to bed, but the following day, today, has been busy. After giving myself a brief pep talk to get myself out of the hotel room and into the world, I left the hotel and immediately went to the small neighborhood market across the street. Breakfast today would be a box of fig newtons -- or the Arab equivalent at least -- some water and a granola bar. Not terribly satisfying to say the least, but not knowing what was safe to eat of the local fare I was generally terrified of the local restaurants. Not terrified so much as generally completely unwilling to eat there. I will have to ease into that.
My travel strategy, when it comes to places I am unfamiliar with, is generally a goal directed wandering. I pick some places I want to go, figure out a basic route, and head in that direction. As I frequently am unable to figure out road signs very well -- in foreign places or at home -- I am usually content with simply heading in the right direction. As such I wandered completely past my first destination, the Dubai Museum, and instead into one of the local souks which, for today's culture fact #1, are Arabic open air markets specializing in one particular class of goods. Dubai is known primarily for its gold and spice souks, but I stumbled upon its silk and cloth souk. Being as Friday is a weekend day and apparently the weekend day of prominence (kind of like Sunday in the US) most the market was closed. Oh wells, it just so turns out I have all the silk and cloth I needed anyway. Myeh.
After traversing the silk souk for a brief while, I continued along the shoreline of the Dubai Creek passing what was possibly a hundred different empty tourist dhows which I had heard are a fairly popular means of getting across the creek, but as they were all universally empty I decided to defer a leisurely river cruise till a later date. Now particularly hungry and not finding many in the way of appealing looking restaurants I ventured into a nearby Carrefour hoping to find a food court. It turned out not to be an Arabic minimall, though, but an Arabic Walmart complete with a thumping electronics department, cheap hair salons, a handy optometrist, and a one hour photo. After briefly watching some foreign gentleman play some sort of race car game on a Playstation 3 for a minute I got myself a sandwich and moved on.
My last destination, really the only intended one I have actually made it to so far, was the Grand Jumeirah Mosque. I made it there right as the imams were calling for prayer, and not knowing how they would react to a foreign gawker with a camera, I decided to wait across the street till it was all over. I'd like to say it was a remarkable experience watching hundreds of men in unison bow to pray while the speakers blared overhead, but it wasn't. Perhaps because I am familiar enough with what they were doing to be indifferent, or maybe because I had seen it on television so many times before, but for whatever reason I sat down and lost myself in thought while they continued to lose themselves in prayer.
Well in the interests of time, both for the reader and my internet cafe bill, I will bring this to a close. I am not entirely sure how interesting or entertaining this entry is as it has mostly been mildly edited stream of conscious, but hopefully with more time in Vellore I can edit things down a bit. Or at the very least learn to write less.
Now for a two hour walk back to the hotel!
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
India Trip: Formal Dress with Sandals
FROM 1/2/08:
At 2:30 this afternoon I will be in the air on the first stage of a multistaged trip to India. Neat.
Although I am not generally one to show much in the way of emotion aside from an occasional goofy smile, I do feel that I'm getting there. Feeling it. A bit excited. A bit anxious. A lot unsure of what to expect. Even though I will only be by myself for a few days and only in Dubai, I have only been by myself abroad once before for a day in Berlin, and I imagine things are a wee bit different in the UAE. Well, actually, I imagine they're remarkably similar with just a different tongue, dress, and slightly different mannerisms, but the fear of the unknown nevertheless makes me contemplate otherwise. We'll see soon enough I suppose. If this turns out to be my second and only entry feel free to assume I've been abducted and am somewhere in Saudi Arabia or Yemen.
On a more scientific note, we will be conducting a short series of experiments while in India. Specifically, does doxycycline *really* make for good antimalarial chemoprophylaxis? The sample size will only be three, there will be no placebo control, and blinding is impossible, but I think we may be able to get a publication out of this. Our second clinical trial will unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately depending on your view of things, have an n = 1, but I am fairly confident it's a novel research question. We get to see if storing oral vaccines needing to be refrigerated instead briefly at room temperature will affect the quality of host immunity generated. The end point in this study will be whether or not Rachel gets typhoid or not. What fun science is!
And on a final note, amongst all the packing and running about preparing for this trip I was pleased to note that on the CMC site the expected dress is "formal" which consists of, "a short sleeved shirt, a pair of trousers, and sandals/shoes." Truly India is an enlightened nation to have finally cast off the oppressive rule of closed-toe footwear. I think I may like this place.
At 2:30 this afternoon I will be in the air on the first stage of a multistaged trip to India. Neat.
Although I am not generally one to show much in the way of emotion aside from an occasional goofy smile, I do feel that I'm getting there. Feeling it. A bit excited. A bit anxious. A lot unsure of what to expect. Even though I will only be by myself for a few days and only in Dubai, I have only been by myself abroad once before for a day in Berlin, and I imagine things are a wee bit different in the UAE. Well, actually, I imagine they're remarkably similar with just a different tongue, dress, and slightly different mannerisms, but the fear of the unknown nevertheless makes me contemplate otherwise. We'll see soon enough I suppose. If this turns out to be my second and only entry feel free to assume I've been abducted and am somewhere in Saudi Arabia or Yemen.
On a more scientific note, we will be conducting a short series of experiments while in India. Specifically, does doxycycline *really* make for good antimalarial chemoprophylaxis? The sample size will only be three, there will be no placebo control, and blinding is impossible, but I think we may be able to get a publication out of this. Our second clinical trial will unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately depending on your view of things, have an n = 1, but I am fairly confident it's a novel research question. We get to see if storing oral vaccines needing to be refrigerated instead briefly at room temperature will affect the quality of host immunity generated. The end point in this study will be whether or not Rachel gets typhoid or not. What fun science is!
And on a final note, amongst all the packing and running about preparing for this trip I was pleased to note that on the CMC site the expected dress is "formal" which consists of, "a short sleeved shirt, a pair of trousers, and sandals/shoes." Truly India is an enlightened nation to have finally cast off the oppressive rule of closed-toe footwear. I think I may like this place.
India Trip: Opening Statements
FROM 12/25/07:
To whom it may concern,
This is my official India blog written as mandated per conditions agreed to upon reception of the Paul Brand International Medicine Scholarship. I hope it's awesome.
Here's what to expect:
January 2: Fly to Dubai, United Arab Emirates
January 3-5: See what there is to see in Dubai
January 6: Fly to Chennai, India with eventual arrival at Vellore
January 6-26: Participate in elective at Christian Medical College
January 26: Fly to New Delhi
January 27: Train to Jaipur
January 29: Train to Agra
January 30: Train to New Delhi
January 31: Fly back to the States
Exciting Bonus Feature: A brief discussion of a tropical disease of my choice. Who knows, it may be visceral leishmaniasis!
Yeah a basic itinerary is all I got as, well, I'm not sure how the rest of these posts are going to work out. Hopefully poignantly thought provoking yet witty and concise?
We'll see!
To whom it may concern,
This is my official India blog written as mandated per conditions agreed to upon reception of the Paul Brand International Medicine Scholarship. I hope it's awesome.
Here's what to expect:
January 2: Fly to Dubai, United Arab Emirates
January 3-5: See what there is to see in Dubai
January 6: Fly to Chennai, India with eventual arrival at Vellore
January 6-26: Participate in elective at Christian Medical College
January 26: Fly to New Delhi
January 27: Train to Jaipur
January 29: Train to Agra
January 30: Train to New Delhi
January 31: Fly back to the States
Exciting Bonus Feature: A brief discussion of a tropical disease of my choice. Who knows, it may be visceral leishmaniasis!
Yeah a basic itinerary is all I got as, well, I'm not sure how the rest of these posts are going to work out. Hopefully poignantly thought provoking yet witty and concise?
We'll see!
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Eat Peanuts Weekly Unto Death
Although the great majority of children with egg and milk allergies outgrow their ailments by three years of age, an even larger majority of kids with peanut allergies will never escape them. For the 5 - 15% or so who are fortunate enough to have their immune systems calm down long enough to appreciate the vitamin E rich satisfaction of chunky peanut butter many will later have their allergies reemerge. The solution? Continuous dosing with peanuts. Allergists, or at least the allergists I know, recommend weekly peanut ingestion for those lucky enough to have their peanut allergies resolve so as to ensure that the body never again pauses to think whether peanut peptides are foreign and hostile or not. Not having any peanut allergies myself, I gotta say: sounds nutty.
Speaking of nuts, this week I took part in two vasectomies. Turns out they are remarkably simple procedures and, in the Air Force at least, take place while the patient is entirely awake. First they cut you open, then they find the right structures, clean 'em off, and clip, snip, cauterize and you're done. The incision itself is only maybe two or three centimeters long at most and doesn't even need to be sutured or glued close. Moving on...
Senioritis is becoming particularly strong. I can remember fondly the days of third year when I would be embarrassed, guilty, and disappointed with myself if I did not adequately prepare for a part of my medical duties. When asked if I had read for something that I had not read for I would have admitted my error and followed it with a string of sincere apologies and construed excuses. This week when I was asked if I had read about the vasectomy procedure, however, I just replied, "no," and we continued walking down the hall. This is my last rotation before residency starts up in June. Three months of relative idleness sounds edifying.
Most of the residents and staff physicians have been nice I must say. With few exceptions it has been an extremely pleasant experience to work family practice at Andrews. One of those exceptions is an awkward sort of woman who looks at me funny way more often than anyone should ever be looked funny at. Half the time I haven't even the slightest clue what brought on that particular contortion of facial features. I am admittedly not the most openly friendly person when working with senior physicians, so perhaps I just bring the weirdness out of her, but good lord woman at least look goofy when the person you're looking goofy at isn't looking directly at you. Fortunately or unfortunately that is about all I have to say with regards to my clinical experience here.
Completely unrelated to anything I have written about previously. It seems whenever I hear Senator Clinton speak she is emphasizing her resolution and toughness against the endless onslaught of Republican hate and slander. She alone can take on the GOP beast. It appears to be her primary defense against the mesmerizing powers of Senator Obama's inspirationally vague oratory. I fear she isn't being blunt enough, however. Americans need simple phrases like, "yes we can" and "I like Ike"to be brought around. That's why I think her campaign needs to create a poster in the course American style. Have her in one of her many professional yet feminine dress suits standing behind a lectern with both hands in the air waving two middle fingers; a headlining caption reads "F--- Republicans!" and maybe a "2008" at the bottom for good measure. At the very least it'd save us having to hear the same sound bites over and over again.
Speaking of nuts, this week I took part in two vasectomies. Turns out they are remarkably simple procedures and, in the Air Force at least, take place while the patient is entirely awake. First they cut you open, then they find the right structures, clean 'em off, and clip, snip, cauterize and you're done. The incision itself is only maybe two or three centimeters long at most and doesn't even need to be sutured or glued close. Moving on...
Senioritis is becoming particularly strong. I can remember fondly the days of third year when I would be embarrassed, guilty, and disappointed with myself if I did not adequately prepare for a part of my medical duties. When asked if I had read for something that I had not read for I would have admitted my error and followed it with a string of sincere apologies and construed excuses. This week when I was asked if I had read about the vasectomy procedure, however, I just replied, "no," and we continued walking down the hall. This is my last rotation before residency starts up in June. Three months of relative idleness sounds edifying.
Most of the residents and staff physicians have been nice I must say. With few exceptions it has been an extremely pleasant experience to work family practice at Andrews. One of those exceptions is an awkward sort of woman who looks at me funny way more often than anyone should ever be looked funny at. Half the time I haven't even the slightest clue what brought on that particular contortion of facial features. I am admittedly not the most openly friendly person when working with senior physicians, so perhaps I just bring the weirdness out of her, but good lord woman at least look goofy when the person you're looking goofy at isn't looking directly at you. Fortunately or unfortunately that is about all I have to say with regards to my clinical experience here.
Completely unrelated to anything I have written about previously. It seems whenever I hear Senator Clinton speak she is emphasizing her resolution and toughness against the endless onslaught of Republican hate and slander. She alone can take on the GOP beast. It appears to be her primary defense against the mesmerizing powers of Senator Obama's inspirationally vague oratory. I fear she isn't being blunt enough, however. Americans need simple phrases like, "yes we can" and "I like Ike"to be brought around. That's why I think her campaign needs to create a poster in the course American style. Have her in one of her many professional yet feminine dress suits standing behind a lectern with both hands in the air waving two middle fingers; a headlining caption reads "F--- Republicans!" and maybe a "2008" at the bottom for good measure. At the very least it'd save us having to hear the same sound bites over and over again.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Blackouts and Broken Hips
I believe shining boots lies somewhere between ironing clothes and paying bills when it comes to terrible ways to spend a Saturday night. And yet that's what I find myself doing. Washington DC is nice, but when you're an introvert and are there completely by yourself there turns out to be a lot of dead time to fill. Thankfully my boots can always use a good shine.
This isn't to say things haven't been interesting since I have been here. Last Sunday afternoon we had a half day blackout marathon for what seemed to be the entire Clinton, MD area. No lights, no heat, no hot water, no tv, and, after an hour or so, no functioning laptops or cellular phones. After sitting around for a good couples hours ran its course I retired to bed at a youthful 7:30 pm. The power was restored sometime around 2 or 3 in the morning as heralded by the sudden start up of my hotel room heater. On the plus side getting up at 7 never felt so great.
And then a few days later we had a mild icing over which led to an inglorious fall. It was a shame no one was watching as though it wasn't a good exaggerated cartoon fall there was a good second or two of desperate struggle to remain aright before I twisted and fell on my side. Thankfully I still have pretty good T-scores so my hip walked away with some mild bruising instead of a complete shattering. I'd say I'm too young for prosthetics, but, well I already have some. Needless to say in addition to being uneventful it has been cold. Cold's nice though every once in a while.
So that's mostly life right now. Throw in some diabetics and seniors with back pain, and that's fourth year. I guess I'll end this post with a shrug. *shrug*
This isn't to say things haven't been interesting since I have been here. Last Sunday afternoon we had a half day blackout marathon for what seemed to be the entire Clinton, MD area. No lights, no heat, no hot water, no tv, and, after an hour or so, no functioning laptops or cellular phones. After sitting around for a good couples hours ran its course I retired to bed at a youthful 7:30 pm. The power was restored sometime around 2 or 3 in the morning as heralded by the sudden start up of my hotel room heater. On the plus side getting up at 7 never felt so great.
And then a few days later we had a mild icing over which led to an inglorious fall. It was a shame no one was watching as though it wasn't a good exaggerated cartoon fall there was a good second or two of desperate struggle to remain aright before I twisted and fell on my side. Thankfully I still have pretty good T-scores so my hip walked away with some mild bruising instead of a complete shattering. I'd say I'm too young for prosthetics, but, well I already have some. Needless to say in addition to being uneventful it has been cold. Cold's nice though every once in a while.
So that's mostly life right now. Throw in some diabetics and seniors with back pain, and that's fourth year. I guess I'll end this post with a shrug. *shrug*
Friday, January 11, 2008
A Series of Unfortunate Incidents and a Wedding
A few weeks ago on December 30th my little brother got married at Garvan Gardens in Hot Springs, AR. It was a lovely day for a wedding and a lovely wedding it was. It was also all for a quite lovely price. Unfortunately things often only come cheap with large sums of cheap, or in this case, free labor, and when you get amateurs running you frequently get a little bit of chaos thrown in as well. Such was the case with the wedding of Adam Tyler Crabtree and Ashlee Beverly Hilliard. Despite the fact that it appeared to go off relatively error free, the errors and difficulties were mostly just beneath the surface. Shall we begin?
The story begins with 5 people and a dog squeezing into a 5 passenger car with multiple pieces of luggage, multiple Christmas and wedding presents, and a substantial wedding dress.
They would have taken a van, but the vans were sold out that day. They would have gone the next day, but the wedding couple forgot to get a wedding license and needed to get there as soon as possible.
They then drive about 16, 17, or 18 hours from Denver, CO, to Little Rock, AR in pouring snow and raining sleet.
There is no room to move, no vision out the back window, and the dog periodically tap dances on the back seat passengers' crotches.
They arrive safely and the next day proceed to prepare, preparing all day and spending only two hours at the local Michael's.
By the way there isn't enough champagne.
By the way you just drove over a cement parking hazard.
By the way your younger sister cannot make it due to blizzards in Wisconsin.
By the way your older sister with her broken foot will be late. As will your poor visioned grand mother and your air sick cousin.
But things get done and late that evening it is time to set up the reception hall.
But where is the reception hall?
Oh, locked up and in the middle of nowhere.
Unload the supplies, move tables here and there and then back again, and at 11:00 pm we are done. The next day will be wedding party festivities!
Like paintball!
Wait, some people don't want to go so there's only 8 of us. Wait we're running late the girls don't have time there're only 4 of us. Wait, dude doesn't want to come he stayed at the hotel there's only 3 of us: my brother, myself, and a friend of mine from high school. Maybe see a movie instead? "I am Legend" it is!
Oh the dog puked in the car.
Time to pick up the plates and silverware!
But the silverware is dirty, and the wine glasses are wrong.
Time to pick up the wedding dress!
But we're late for the rehearsal, let us attend!
Thankfully the rehearsal is about an hour and a half away. Plenty of time to relax and reorganize. And get lost.
If everyone gets lost it's not so bad, though, right?
Rehearse quickly sans the groom's family and one groomsman, and back to the city.
Finally unload the plates and silverware. Finally find more champagne. Finally fix everything up at the reception hall. Finally get some sushi and watch the Aggies lose in the Alamo Bowl at the local hotel. Tomorrow's a wedding!
After Scooter and Matthew pick up the cake, buy some ice, retrieve some heaters, and drop it all off at the reception hall that is.
Bridesmaids and bride get there on time, but the groomsmen and groom a little late. Thankfully someone remembered to pick up the tuxes.
No time for photos though!
Oh, that's curious, Seth's tux didn't come with shoes.
Play the piano without them!
Oops, the groom's dad did not go down the aisle with his wife. Run!
But... at last... we have a wedding. They laughed. They cried. Ashlee repeated 5 minutes of vows. They were married.
And the reception?
Equally glorious.
If you weren't a groomsman or the mother of a guest at least. Someone's got to clean the plates and put out the wine glasses and place all the chairs and tables away.
And just when you thought it was all done, it's back to the hotel where the bridge and groom are spending their wedding night to drop off forgotten items, pick up opened presents, provide them with some wet but unwashed laundry, and make sure the groom's family remembers to pick up the dry cleaning that the groom hadn't remembered to retrieve.
The end!
I'd like to say good times were had by all, and I believe they were, but they were a busy good times. A very busy good times.
And that's all I got to say about that.
Congrats!
The story begins with 5 people and a dog squeezing into a 5 passenger car with multiple pieces of luggage, multiple Christmas and wedding presents, and a substantial wedding dress.
They would have taken a van, but the vans were sold out that day. They would have gone the next day, but the wedding couple forgot to get a wedding license and needed to get there as soon as possible.
They then drive about 16, 17, or 18 hours from Denver, CO, to Little Rock, AR in pouring snow and raining sleet.
There is no room to move, no vision out the back window, and the dog periodically tap dances on the back seat passengers' crotches.
They arrive safely and the next day proceed to prepare, preparing all day and spending only two hours at the local Michael's.
By the way there isn't enough champagne.
By the way you just drove over a cement parking hazard.
By the way your younger sister cannot make it due to blizzards in Wisconsin.
By the way your older sister with her broken foot will be late. As will your poor visioned grand mother and your air sick cousin.
But things get done and late that evening it is time to set up the reception hall.
But where is the reception hall?
Oh, locked up and in the middle of nowhere.
Unload the supplies, move tables here and there and then back again, and at 11:00 pm we are done. The next day will be wedding party festivities!
Like paintball!
Wait, some people don't want to go so there's only 8 of us. Wait we're running late the girls don't have time there're only 4 of us. Wait, dude doesn't want to come he stayed at the hotel there's only 3 of us: my brother, myself, and a friend of mine from high school. Maybe see a movie instead? "I am Legend" it is!
Oh the dog puked in the car.
Time to pick up the plates and silverware!
But the silverware is dirty, and the wine glasses are wrong.
Time to pick up the wedding dress!
But we're late for the rehearsal, let us attend!
Thankfully the rehearsal is about an hour and a half away. Plenty of time to relax and reorganize. And get lost.
If everyone gets lost it's not so bad, though, right?
Rehearse quickly sans the groom's family and one groomsman, and back to the city.
Finally unload the plates and silverware. Finally find more champagne. Finally fix everything up at the reception hall. Finally get some sushi and watch the Aggies lose in the Alamo Bowl at the local hotel. Tomorrow's a wedding!
After Scooter and Matthew pick up the cake, buy some ice, retrieve some heaters, and drop it all off at the reception hall that is.
Bridesmaids and bride get there on time, but the groomsmen and groom a little late. Thankfully someone remembered to pick up the tuxes.
No time for photos though!
Oh, that's curious, Seth's tux didn't come with shoes.
Play the piano without them!
Oops, the groom's dad did not go down the aisle with his wife. Run!
But... at last... we have a wedding. They laughed. They cried. Ashlee repeated 5 minutes of vows. They were married.
And the reception?
Equally glorious.
If you weren't a groomsman or the mother of a guest at least. Someone's got to clean the plates and put out the wine glasses and place all the chairs and tables away.
And just when you thought it was all done, it's back to the hotel where the bridge and groom are spending their wedding night to drop off forgotten items, pick up opened presents, provide them with some wet but unwashed laundry, and make sure the groom's family remembers to pick up the dry cleaning that the groom hadn't remembered to retrieve.
The end!
I'd like to say good times were had by all, and I believe they were, but they were a busy good times. A very busy good times.
And that's all I got to say about that.
Congrats!
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
All Dressed Up and Nowhere to Go
I have generally always felt that skiing and snowboarding were luxury items reserved for the landed elites when not otherwise engaging in polo, yachting, or a good fox hunt. Undoubtedly fun, but also undoubtedly expensive, and, as such, hard to defend in an already resource lopsided world. This was all before I smoked the crack pipe of winter mountain adventure, however, and now that I have I can more easily embrace self-indulgence. Skiing, it turns out, is not just fun, but very fun. Perhaps addictively so. I have and continue to rationalize my participation in such activities with the fact that costs have always been significantly reduced by free housing complements of Paul's family, but who am I kidding? I'm rich and I may as well not pretend otherwise.
The socioeconomics of skiing aside, my third and latest skiing trip the week before Christmas was notable for my final surmounting of the black diamond barrier. Last year I barely made it through blue-blacks -- bouncing my way down Frosty's Freeway on my back -- but this year I deftly descended a groomed black -- Cinarron was it? Cinnamon? -- with no problems. In my controlled chaos way of skiing at least. We also did two double blacks which sent me tumbling, but even when the tumble lasted the better part of a minute and involved several somersaults and an extended slide on my back it was a better experience than the accursed Frosty's Freeway. All my bravado aside, I cannot say I have ever felt a compelling need to constantly push myself to the limit with skiing, and so it was nice to ski joust and generally fool around on some greens and blues as well.
There was of course more to our trip than just skiing; we snowshoed as well! After paying heavy fees and acquiring the tacit approval of the mildly disgruntled majority we donned some shoes, Megan donned her ear flap cap, and we were off to see the waterfall. The waterfall never really materialized thanks to a thick blanket of snow, and Liz and Rachel had to turn back for sugar related issues -- it would seem Liz is a very stoic hypoglycemic --, and my snowman was a complete failure, but overall in the measure of most snowshoeing trips I'd say the trip was a success. Everyone had a good sweat at the very least.
And finally there was also much card playing. Specifically, the playing of Nertz. Normally card playing doesn't make for a very exciting subject to write about, but it is in this case because Drew and I were an unstoppable Nertz playing forced to be reckoned with. I imagine this was due more to Drew's prowess than my own, but I will nevertheless take equal credit for it. We rock. Undefeated. Booyah.
We also played some seemingly fabricated game involving player-selected famous persons -- or in our case mostly cartoon characters it seemed -- but as no one knew who El Cid was I don't want to talk about it. One fact I learned from the game, however, is that in some circles Xena: Warrior Princess was a show about lesbians. You decide!
Finally, finally, what truly set this ski trip apart from all the others -- aside from the lack of any in car brawls -- was our trip through northeastern New Mexico. More specifically it was the fact that we, or rather I, ran out of gas and our minivan puttered to a stop in the middle of nowhere just outside of Las Vegas, NM. In my defense I don't believe we passed a single gas station in the preceding hours before our unscheduled stop, but regardless an extra hour was added on to our trip in the acquisition of more fuel. We tried to get help from the local trailer home folk, but aside from a brief chat with a friendly Australian Sheepdog no help was to be found. This was probably for the best, however, as according to a cop Drew and Angie got a ride with the locals would have sooner sold us to coyotes than have sold us a gallon of gas. Oh wells, what're you gonna do?
The socioeconomics of skiing aside, my third and latest skiing trip the week before Christmas was notable for my final surmounting of the black diamond barrier. Last year I barely made it through blue-blacks -- bouncing my way down Frosty's Freeway on my back -- but this year I deftly descended a groomed black -- Cinarron was it? Cinnamon? -- with no problems. In my controlled chaos way of skiing at least. We also did two double blacks which sent me tumbling, but even when the tumble lasted the better part of a minute and involved several somersaults and an extended slide on my back it was a better experience than the accursed Frosty's Freeway. All my bravado aside, I cannot say I have ever felt a compelling need to constantly push myself to the limit with skiing, and so it was nice to ski joust and generally fool around on some greens and blues as well.
There was of course more to our trip than just skiing; we snowshoed as well! After paying heavy fees and acquiring the tacit approval of the mildly disgruntled majority we donned some shoes, Megan donned her ear flap cap, and we were off to see the waterfall. The waterfall never really materialized thanks to a thick blanket of snow, and Liz and Rachel had to turn back for sugar related issues -- it would seem Liz is a very stoic hypoglycemic --, and my snowman was a complete failure, but overall in the measure of most snowshoeing trips I'd say the trip was a success. Everyone had a good sweat at the very least.
And finally there was also much card playing. Specifically, the playing of Nertz. Normally card playing doesn't make for a very exciting subject to write about, but it is in this case because Drew and I were an unstoppable Nertz playing forced to be reckoned with. I imagine this was due more to Drew's prowess than my own, but I will nevertheless take equal credit for it. We rock. Undefeated. Booyah.
We also played some seemingly fabricated game involving player-selected famous persons -- or in our case mostly cartoon characters it seemed -- but as no one knew who El Cid was I don't want to talk about it. One fact I learned from the game, however, is that in some circles Xena: Warrior Princess was a show about lesbians. You decide!
Finally, finally, what truly set this ski trip apart from all the others -- aside from the lack of any in car brawls -- was our trip through northeastern New Mexico. More specifically it was the fact that we, or rather I, ran out of gas and our minivan puttered to a stop in the middle of nowhere just outside of Las Vegas, NM. In my defense I don't believe we passed a single gas station in the preceding hours before our unscheduled stop, but regardless an extra hour was added on to our trip in the acquisition of more fuel. We tried to get help from the local trailer home folk, but aside from a brief chat with a friendly Australian Sheepdog no help was to be found. This was probably for the best, however, as according to a cop Drew and Angie got a ride with the locals would have sooner sold us to coyotes than have sold us a gallon of gas. Oh wells, what're you gonna do?
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