Pass the Ale!!!
Came back from Sno Camp on Saturday. That was an experience. Six of us and our luggage packed into the wicked sweet Conway mini van that Lael has been commandeering since last summer. That is one amazing vehicle, and will remain in my memory into my old age. With Lael behind the wheel of that thing, you'd think you were riding a 2k4 Mustang, tearing up its urban playground and laugh at the losers who choose the baby slide and get sand down their pants. Yeah, it's that good. But I digress. I'd say that we fit almost perfectly into that van. So I didn't have to have anyone touching me the whole ride (flashbacks to Manchester Missions Trip: Zack....sweating).
We didn't realize that the most exciting and eventful part of the whole endeavor would be in the first few hours of the trip, in which Lael mistook the brake pedal as a clutch for about 3 seconds while going 75 Mph down the highway. Longest 3 seconds of my life.
After I found out that we were not going to be turned into a fireball in a ditch, the funny part came when, moments after recovery from initial shock, Lael pulled over to the side of the road. "Checking for tire damage?" we inquired. "No, James has to pee", twas his reply. At least now I know that if I have to get to a bathroom fast, Lael is the one to see.
The other group was great. Lots of old faces from last year, and some new, and all very interesting. I've come to the conclusion that just about all of them (I say "just about" for liabilities sake) are insane to some degree or another. This is not a bad thing by any means. Far from it. It makes for a VERY interesting time and great conversation. Examples include the elite Gah Gah competitors who can be identified by their protective hand coverings (Last year it was old spare socks. This year it seemed to be the more sophisticated glove type apparatus), the "Knights of the Round Table" who could be heard shouting "More ale!!!" (which tasted strangely remenicent of apple juice) and, of whom, one downed almost a whole serving jug and then proceeded to reverse engineer the digestive process for the next half hour, the people who decided that every single ball-like object (including some non-ball-like objects) in the gym needed to become a flying missile, which warranted every 3rd party in the room to be on constant alert, and the pseudo-random attacks where one or more people, with absolutely no warning at an absolutely unrelevant time would abruptly decide to slide tackle, flip, plow into, or any other attack thought up by man, an unsuspecting victim which usually led to a furball which included multiple previously unengaged onlookers.
Yeah, it was fun.
The schedule structure was such that it allowed a lot of "hang out" time, which was very good. We spent a whole lot of time just sitting around talking, playing music (whether it be me on my Violin, James on guitar, or Lael on piano ;P, or any combo of), throwing balls, or tubing. Tubing was awesome, especially when we got the whole group together (plus a few others) and went down in one huge run. That was excitement that, for some odd reason, compelled one to laugh somewhat uncontrollably.
A literal L-O-L, if you will. Not that it was of the kind of insane laughter you might see an evil scientist engage in, but it was just pure fun. Cackling, as James described it.
Being the perfect tubing hill it was, the walk back up was rather long and tedious, seeing as they did not have a lift or tow of any sort. Yet it was worth it. So was the exercise. I don't think that I have ever sweat that badly at 20 degrees out. Especially after my tube came loose after a sour landing off of a jump, and I had to sprint half way down the hill and deliver a high power flying kick to the tube which was rolling down on its side.
So all was good. Even the food at the dining hall, save for the omelets. Something about them was .... off. Maybe it was the fact that the cheese appeared to be sprayed on in a thick spread, or the fact that every single one looked exactly the same, as if punched out of a press. Either way, it did not quite taste right. Thankfully, there was a wide selection of food available which allowed me to bypass the omelets safely.
Good times, good times, Sno Camp...
We didn't realize that the most exciting and eventful part of the whole endeavor would be in the first few hours of the trip, in which Lael mistook the brake pedal as a clutch for about 3 seconds while going 75 Mph down the highway. Longest 3 seconds of my life.
After I found out that we were not going to be turned into a fireball in a ditch, the funny part came when, moments after recovery from initial shock, Lael pulled over to the side of the road. "Checking for tire damage?" we inquired. "No, James has to pee", twas his reply. At least now I know that if I have to get to a bathroom fast, Lael is the one to see.
The other group was great. Lots of old faces from last year, and some new, and all very interesting. I've come to the conclusion that just about all of them (I say "just about" for liabilities sake) are insane to some degree or another. This is not a bad thing by any means. Far from it. It makes for a VERY interesting time and great conversation. Examples include the elite Gah Gah competitors who can be identified by their protective hand coverings (Last year it was old spare socks. This year it seemed to be the more sophisticated glove type apparatus), the "Knights of the Round Table" who could be heard shouting "More ale!!!" (which tasted strangely remenicent of apple juice) and, of whom, one downed almost a whole serving jug and then proceeded to reverse engineer the digestive process for the next half hour, the people who decided that every single ball-like object (including some non-ball-like objects) in the gym needed to become a flying missile, which warranted every 3rd party in the room to be on constant alert, and the pseudo-random attacks where one or more people, with absolutely no warning at an absolutely unrelevant time would abruptly decide to slide tackle, flip, plow into, or any other attack thought up by man, an unsuspecting victim which usually led to a furball which included multiple previously unengaged onlookers.
Yeah, it was fun.
The schedule structure was such that it allowed a lot of "hang out" time, which was very good. We spent a whole lot of time just sitting around talking, playing music (whether it be me on my Violin, James on guitar, or Lael on piano ;P, or any combo of), throwing balls, or tubing. Tubing was awesome, especially when we got the whole group together (plus a few others) and went down in one huge run. That was excitement that, for some odd reason, compelled one to laugh somewhat uncontrollably.
A literal L-O-L, if you will. Not that it was of the kind of insane laughter you might see an evil scientist engage in, but it was just pure fun. Cackling, as James described it.
Being the perfect tubing hill it was, the walk back up was rather long and tedious, seeing as they did not have a lift or tow of any sort. Yet it was worth it. So was the exercise. I don't think that I have ever sweat that badly at 20 degrees out. Especially after my tube came loose after a sour landing off of a jump, and I had to sprint half way down the hill and deliver a high power flying kick to the tube which was rolling down on its side.
So all was good. Even the food at the dining hall, save for the omelets. Something about them was .... off. Maybe it was the fact that the cheese appeared to be sprayed on in a thick spread, or the fact that every single one looked exactly the same, as if punched out of a press. Either way, it did not quite taste right. Thankfully, there was a wide selection of food available which allowed me to bypass the omelets safely.
Good times, good times, Sno Camp...
posted by Cyphoid at 2:11 PM
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