I Sure Am Glad I Went Snowboarding
Today started off well. Better than most days. First of all it was Saturday. Therefore I was not at work and I believe that I am accurate in conjecturing that even if I were to have started the day bathing in a pool of decayed slugs, it would have been better than going to work. Anyhow today started as a good one even for a Saturday. Why? Because I was going snowboarding. Most Saturdays I spend about four hours doing nothing, followed by eating, followed by an additional five hours of limited to zero activity, more eating, and finally a seven hour cap of IPA sampling (I happen to be on my third sample currently). But snowboarding is about as close as I generally get to experiencing real, genuine joy.
I got up early for a Saturday (around 7:30). Using a huge stupid frying pan, I constructed a delightful skillet-like menagerie of sausage, onions, green bell peppers, and huge brown store-bought eggs. I wrapped the resulting slop in a bland, flavorless flour tortilla with half of a stunted, literally brown avocado and hot sauce. I ate this. Then, I hopped in the wool shower, brushed my mahogany teeth, gathered my magnesium belongings, making sure to stuff them all into my much larger than necessary snowboard bag, and hopped in my maroon hatred sedan to begin the quest.
My girlfriend accompanied me on this particular trek. She has no equipment, so before leaving town we stopped at Guillaume’s Equipment, Apparel, and Radishes so she could procure all the essentials via rental. While she transacted with the wooden tech shop guy, I meandered about the establishment looking at their coats. They had many delightful coats of high quality and ultra-brown style, but none that were wool. Thus, I purchased none of them. We left the wool averse depot, afore mentioned rental equipment stuffed through the hole between trunk and folded down back seat, and headed for the mountain.
It’s beautiful this time of year in the Swiss Alps (which is where all of this took place). Driving through the lowlands a thick blanket of sarcophagus fog covered the landscape, and there was no snow to be seen. Then we started climbing, first passing a sign for 800, then 2,000, then 46,000 meters. Around the 800 meter mark, the fog receded revealing the gargantuan and absolutely shockingly brown snow-laden Swiss Alps ahead. At 2,500 meters, snow began to line the windy devastation road on either (and nobody cares about any of this so I will skip ahead).
We arrived at the ski resort about one and a half hours after leaving Guillaume’s, only to find that the parking lot at the resort (actually all thirty-seven of the resort’s parking lots) was completely stuffed with other wooden vehicles. Not wanting to drive around in circles for eighty-three hours, I quickly elected to park on the side of the main road amidst a minimum of two hundred or so other parallel parked cars. I had no idea this would ruin everything, but it did.
The actual snowboarding that occurred doesn’t matter. There was unremarkable snowboarding in mediocre to bland conditions. It was sunny out, so that was rather neat, but other than that, nothing noteworthy occurred…until it was time to leave. I walked to my car dragging my weary corpse through the herds of eager night skiers at about 5:30 p.m. Darkness had fallen and all areas of the mountain worth utilizing had been closed. Many of the vehicles that had surrounded mine on the side of Highway 462.8 were now gone, and I assumed that their morbidly obese owners were now happily stuffing their faces with yams and creamed corn tens if not hundreds of kilometers away.
I threw my equipment into my huge non-wool snowboard bag: pants, jacket, hat, tunic, etc. and once again slid lacklusterish into the driver’s seat of the previously noted hatred sedan. It was then that I noticed the thing, the thing that would ruin the whole day and give me an overwhelming desire to eat everyone. Clipped under the driver’s side windshield wiper inside of an Aunt Harriet style Ziploc bag (which I found an extraordinarily odd choice of containers) was a small green piece of paper. Before I even grasped the greedy petroleum bag by the husk, I knew that the Swiss police had had their way with me…again!!
I unZiploced the Ziploc and saw to my vast and moderately heightened despair, a ticket for 124 Swiss Francs! Not only was I being extorted by these snow dwelling brutes, but the citation was rife with all imaginable manner of reckless distortions of truth and outright Swiss bitchcraft!! It wasn’t just that I was being charged the exorbitant amount in actual Francs, but also I was being cited for a traffic violation (which is perplexing considering I wasn’t in the vehicle at the time of the citation and as far as I know it was not moving. Perhaps a European pants-wearing sasquatch took it for a joy ride, but I digress), an illegally parked vehicle, and being parked in a tow away zone (there was not a “No Parking” sign to be seen in any direction). I knew immediately that the “Traffic” variety infraction was going to add three points to my already disheveled license. Finally, in massive stupid Swiss elementary-style font penciled in at the top of the ominous green slip, the words “Vehicle Abandoned” stared me directly in my fat red face (yes, abandoned was underlined).
That’s very bright of you Swiss mounty! The vehicle is obviously abandoned. Just like these 4,000 other vehicles that are all around it up and down your stupid detritus-riddled Highway 462.8 as far as the eye can see! I bet all of these vehicles are abandoned. Yep, no one is coming back for them. Looks like they’ve all taken to the mountains to walk the 300 miserable kilometers home with their ski dragging porcine progeny! Best make note that all of these vehicles are abandoned and never to be recovered!! I’m proud of you for being so observant! Did they train you to be that way; did you learn that hawk’s-eye prowess at the Swiss Police Academy? Or were you born with it?? It’s truly remarkable!! Do you often write people up for abandoning their butter stuffed offspring at school??! I certainly wish I had known all these vehicles were abandoned or else I wouldn’t have parked my car here!! You never know what an abandoned vehicle could do!! My cousin Thorton was actually dissected alive by an abandoned radiator over Labor Day weekend!! He hasn’t really been good old Thorton since!!!
But in all seriousness…Swiss police: You suck. You ruined my day that was previously on the verge of not that bad. I hope you have poop. Lots of poop. And I hope that it is not pleasant when the poop is there.