A hop, skip and a stumble to Sun Valley, Idaho as the gang that couldn't ski straight started our 57'th consecutive trip.
Eliot, Robert, Arthur, David, Steven and Carl joined up with Jeff in a fogged-in Salt Lake, and then a short jump to Hailey. The stewardess had to tell us to shut up so she could do her spiel. Excuse me, flight attendant.
Rich arrived later, and we watched the keystone cops ferry his luggage all over the tarmac as they tried to handle 3 actual planes at the same time. Still no skis for Rich.
Got lost on the way to the ski house, what do you expect with this bunch yelling at each other. We asked directions, and ended up in an opulent mansion. Hope it's the right place. Way to go, Eliot !
We feel lost without the docs, especially Tom. Actually, Joe is kind of useless, like the rest of us. Had dinner in downtown Ketchum. Tomorrow the slopes.
The boys stampeded on to the slope at 9 AM and stumbled off around 1:30. Rich had the most adventures, lost the most equipment, and fell off a lift the most times. He claims Steve pushed him. Steve says evidently not hard enough.
Not a lot of snow here, but they make it and manage it well. The lodges are plush and the employees polite, except for those who don't speak a word of Eastern English. "Do you have any mulled wine?" "What ?" "Do - you - have - any - mulled - wine ?" "What ?" "MULLED WINE !" "What ?" "WINE !!!" "No we don't got no wine."
It's a sign of the times that the boys spend more time discussing whether or not they're color coordinated than whether or not they're skiing well. At left, three coordinated colors at 9000 feet.
Dinner in Ketchum at a restaurant recommended by Rich's wife. Nice call, Melody.
Another sunny day on the slopes. Conversations on the lifts bring back the ghost of testosterone past. Everybody cruised, nobody bruised.
A little mixup as to which restaurant for dinner, solved with the miracle of cell phones. Pizza and chicken sandwiches. After David took a sip of Rich's beer, Rich asked delicately about the possibility of AIDS. No, said David, just feline distemper.
Somebody wondered whether we could get to the end of the week without a brawl or two. "You don't understand," said Eliot, "none of us actually like each other. It's just that we're too stiff and sore to take a swing."
David stayed home (see left), it was a nice day, everybody else hit the slopes.
After three days here Carl figures he's got it knocked, and does one last run off a black diamond. Off the lift, lost both skis, and executed a record-breaking butt slide down the entire slope.
Master chef Robert and sous-chef Eliot prepared a record-breaking butt slide, no wait a minute - it was dinner. We are content.
Fond farewell to our good friend Arthur Whatshisname. Carl took him to the airport, took an exercise break, and took a nap for the rest of the day while Jeff and Robert did some snow shoeing and the rest of the boys hit the slopes. Until the slopes hit back.
Fog and some of that white stuff from the sky - what's it called? We couldn't take it and called it an early day, went back and watched Captain Kangaroo.
A great dinner at the Pioneer Saloon, where the waitress claimed she caught the trout, grew the potatoes, and picked the berries. She certainly shucked the corn.
We started the day with a bump in the night - a snow plow backed into Eliot's van while Eliot was in the shower. "I'll never take a shower again," says the main man. David and Eliot took the van back to Hailey for a quick exchange, and Eliot headed for the foggy slopes while the D wimped out and stayed home.
The boys came back later, tired but happy. Master Chef Robert prepared another epicurean feast, eat your heart out Tom, who needs you anyway.
We've had some gripes that this Web page is boring. In truth, we have been toning down the content so as not to worry our readers, but we are now persuaded to reveal the actual facts:
Eliot has become a nun. At first, we tried to talk him out of it, but then we realized how fetching he looked in his habit, especially on the slopes..
Rich was arrested for inappropriate behavior in the Ore House. "I thought they were Cockney" he told the local gendarmes. He was released on bail to Eliot's personal recognizance. "What a fetching little nun" said the police sergeant.
Robert has decided to devote the rest of his life to the Monica Lewinsky rehabilitation foundation. Jeff took a bath in the local sulfur springs, and has sprouted a full head of yellow hair. David has proposed marriage to an Idaho Baked Potato (nice eyes). Steve made a citizen's arrest of a jaywalking 11 year old, coerced a confession, and was appointed honorary mayor.
Carl slept through all the above.
This should shut Tom and Nancy up.
Fond farewells to Steve and Robert as Eliot drove them to the airport for an early departure. The rest of us hit the slopes for a partly sunny day, and perhaps the best conditions of the week. Rich characterizes his own skiing style as "elegant chaos." Eliot says that's true, except for the elegant part.
Dinner in a Mexican restaurant, good spicy food and virgin margaritas. After which, we watch TV and discuss some of the outstanding attributes of female tennis athletes.
Today Eliot and Jeff are being joined by their better halves for another exciting week in fun-filled Idaho. Insert potato joke here. Rich and Carl are going home to their better halves. David is half-heartedly wholesome, but he's going home anyway.
It's been an interesting time, in the Chinese sense. People stop us in the street and ask us whether 2 lawyers are better than 2 doctors. I personally think that this is an opportunity for a good joke, but I don't know any. Oh wait, here's one:
Why did the IT consultant cross the slope?
To get away from all those Republican doctors and lawyers.