Friday, January 1, 2010

Road Trip to Tipsy People

After 15 hours in the car, we made it to Mammoth Mountain just in time to bring in the new year.

The rain and fog and dark eerie feeling of black pines and neverending forests dissipated as we crossed the border into California. Hm. But to be fair, that's kind of like saying every time it's freezing, so much for global warming.

Each border stop asked about produce. It's funny to think an apple traveling south from Washington could be a problem. We did have a bunch of canned jams from Canada. If there's a fruit-related outbreak in San Berdoo, you'll know who might be responsible . . . brother-in-law.

Cary got out of a ticket and laser beams from his wife's eyes.

So, needless to say, even though a shower and a warm bed were calling, Cary and I hit the village. After being turned away from bars at capacity and invitation-only coffee shops--and turning down a $100 cover charge for five minutes to countdown--we got grace from the Westin, whose kind staff let us in no problem for some free food, champagne, and dancing. There were even horns, hats, and crowns scattered about for our use. It didn't matter everyone was at least 10 years older than us. So 2010 began with Cary and I remembering how horrible we are at dancing and not caring, and people watching. Which can pretty much be summed up as tossed watching. The bathroom posed an interesting place. A guy helping a girl pee, the towel lady threatening to call security, and some chicks so tipsy they couldn't explain exactly how addicted to coke their friend was and how much she needed them all in the same stall. I was happy to sit and listen.

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