Ski Trip

Leaving on what is loosely termed a ski trip along with a couple of other fellow Cialis enthusiasts (don't worry, we're not packing heat for this exercise). We do this, or try to do this barring personal or professional disasters at this same time each year; trekking over to one of the guy's vacay-home in New Mexico. Same drill each time which goes as follows:

1. Assemble and grumble during loading of equipment/baggage for about 15 minutes before actually leaving. Argue regarding the best route out of town. Complain about lack of coffee.

2. Spend roughly the first hour of the trip discussing business and family calamities and casting shared dispersions upon the forces of evil set upon upsetting our frail outlook on life.

3. Engage the first of several "Teaching Company" courses. Prior to this, a violent argument will ensue regarding the subject choice. Ultimately, the first will be something on religion, probably "Genesis" or something by Ehrman or Levine. After each 45 minute lecture, a brief period of reflective discussion will occur, followed quickly by a rapid descent into profane insults directed against the learned scholar in question or even the religious or social group profiled. Nothing is sacred, as we have learned--the author of the Gospel of John tends to catch a lot of shit, while the synoptics get off somewhat lighter. Mark was a dour bastard.

4. Make first stop in Ozona. Gas up and then hit the Dairy Queen next door. I haven't eaten a hamburger in about 3 months and I've thought about this moment for most of those days. Nothing spectacular about a DQ burger--it's just the delicious thought of shoving something horribly greasy and artery clogging into your pie hole with abandon. Really, there are worse things, but this is sort of a symbol of all that you tend deny yourself when you realize you're getting old and you have to goddamn take care of what goes for a body. On top of that, there will be a large order of fries and the biggest vanilla shake possible. I may even bring in a gallon jug and have them fill it. Sick shit, but there you have it.

5. Back on the road (God bless Texas and the 80 mph limit). More lectures, more dispersions upon professors and the shitbird who got high on goatweed and wrote Revelation. Seriously, what a tool.

6. Stop in Pecos. Unpile from vehicle, stand up, look around and marvel at the perfect wretchedness of the place. Really, really awful in a way that shames any South Texas hellhole. Regardless, make a run by the tamale place at the edge of town and load up on more grease.

7. Roll into New Mexico. Major deduct to that state for the reduced speed limits. Also, New Mexico law enforcement are notably humorless souls.

Eventually, we get there, grumble while unpacking and then make a joint assault upon the town's largest grocery, Lawrence Brothers which I have always preferred calling, "Mitchell Brothers." I don't know why but they have to accept it or I will refuse to buy their goddamn bacon. And, we buy a lot of bacon for this stay. Did you know that bacon goes well with Oreos? Three or four guys wandering through a grocery store is never a good thing for anyone. It will take them the better part of a year to get their displays back in order after we depart and restore the produce area to something less than a war zone. Hideous.

After that, it's pretty much eat, drink, curse, go to the bathroom, watch movies that your wife won't watch and then get up the next morning to repeat, except with skiing and/or golf thrown in. We'll do this for three days before heading back on a somewhat more somber drive on Sunday. Mondays afterward are hell but they're damn sure worth it. Adios.