Travel Disasters
02-Jan-03
This is not the promised Travel Disaster list that I talked about previously. Oh, no. This is the list of disasters from our 3-day trip to Lake Tahoe this New Years.
Update: Pictures from the trip are available here
Itinerary
Monday, December 30, 2002 - Wednesday, January 1, 2003
Destination: South Lake Tahoe, CA (across from Heavenly Ski Resort)
Transportation: Steph’s minivan
Notes: Planned breakfast of crepes at Ken’s house at 10, followed by an 11 AM departure.
At 8:45, when Brian was supposed to be here, John & I went to fill the car up, check the tires, and get some cash. We left a note on the door. As we left, John noticed that both the outside porch light and the inside entryway light were burned out. We had our pet sitter coming for those 3 days and I didn’t want them to break their necks. I decided if we had time, I’d replace the bulb.
We got back at 9:00 and Brian wasn’t there. I got the bulbs and a chair and proceeded to change the lightbulbs. Brian arrived at 9:03, while I was working on the one on the porch– the first one I changed. We have “safety” locks on our lightswitches– when locked, they won’t turn on (this is so you can change the lightbulb without shocking yourself). As I screwed the bulb in, it turned on, proving that the safety locks are shit.
I then went inside, closed and locked the front door (with John & Brian outside), and proceeded to curse at the light fixture after replacing the bulb. I found it irritating that the shortest person around was replacing the lightbulbs, especially because I was standing on tip-toe and not able to close the stupid light fixture.
Brian later snarked about the fact that I was so unprepared when he arrived, I was changing lightbulbs. Um, we found out they were burned out at 8:45? When did he think we would do this? Anyway, the whole 3 days was like that. It was like going on a trip with your brothers, and snarking lovingly at you the entire way.
We left at about 9:15 or 9:30, and figured we would be at Ken’s a little late, maybe 10:30. We were lucky, and pulled up at just about 10 AM, and snarked at each other about parking in Ken’s apartment’s lot. We did stop for mochas, though we just did the drive-thru mocha thing and drank in the car.
Brian also gave sucky directions to Ken’s house. I decided that I didn’t want anyone but John to give me directions, and announced such after breakfast.
We got in, and Ken had got a slow start that morning, so the crepes weren’t ready. I think we sat down to eat at about 11 AM, when we were supposed to be in the car and driving. Ken had a coffee cake already there, made a couple of fruit compote things, mimosas and bloody marys (nobody had the bloody marys), etc. etc. etc. It was. . . .too much. Most of us, I think, were more used to having a bagel and coffee, if anything for breakfast. But it was very nice of him to do it, and we all appreciated the hard work he put in, making orange compote and Waldorf salad from scratch and all. I would pretty much have opened a can and never would have made the Waldorf salad to begin with, but then, I also would have thrown a plate of bagels at everyone and piled into the car.
Ken’s luggage, despite the email John sent saying “soft sided bags,” consisted of a small square carry-one roller-type and a plastic shopping bag. Yes, a plastic bag. He claimed he didn’t have time to pack or get luggage or something. Um, excuse me? When you bought the clothes, you couldn’t buy a bag to put them in? Argh! The bag started falling apart in the parking lot and did not do well during the weekend.
We finally left at about 11:30 or so. Amazingly, there were absolutely no instances of missed exits or getting lost. For this, we can thank Ken’s over-planning instinct. The Yellow Folder had all the information and maps, directions, confirmation numbers, even the phone number to call for road conditions. It was very good.
We stopped outside of Sacramento to eat the sandwiches Brian had bought that morning. Decent– no complaints. I went to the bathroom, twice.
We then headed East on Highway 50. Somewhere around Placerville, I realized I really should stop for the bathroom. Especially as the rain was starting to turn to snow. We kept going, however, only stopping for John and Ken to install the chains on my minivan. Driving with chains is a real experience, let me tell you. But it was fine, and at least we weren’t sliding everywhere.
Then started the real problems. The road conditions were bad, and with chains on you can only go 25 mph, max. I don’t totally remember the sequence, but we passed a deli on the left and I decided not to stop for the rest room. Big mistake– it was about 2 more hours before we reached plumbing again.
There must have been an accident or something that wasn’t reported on the radio, because traffic stopped. For an hour. People got out of their cars, infuriating me, and went to play in the snow. It infuriated me because I had to pee so much, my bladder was actually distended. And we were parked for an hour.
After we started moving again, we were moving very slowly. I realized that I wasn’t going to make it. We were going less than 10 mph, and Ken said that Tahoe was “just another 3-5 miles.” Well, that’s 30 minutes or so, at the rate we were going. We pulled off and I ducked behind a snowdrift. Note: This is Disaster #1: Stephanie
I got back into the car and “ahhhhed” for about an hour. My bladder had been so full, now that it was empty (and I was rehydrating again), the muscles were actually cramping a bit. Kind of like having a sore muscle.
Anyway, it turned out that less than 1/4 mile up the road was the Information Center, where we could have pulled off and gone. It was maybe 5 or 10 minutes from where we stopped. I wasn’t sorry, though. I don’t think I could have held it any longer.
We drove on to South Lake Tahoe, the weather and traffic just horrendous. Not only was it snowing hard, but there were too many people on the road. We missed Pioneer Trail, the road we wanted to take up to the hotel. We did get up there with few difficulties, though by that point, directions were somewhat vague. We checked in at about 7:30 PM. Total drive time, excluding the stop for lunch: 7 1/2 hours.
Yeah. Ken had said it was 4 1/2 hours. I don’t know what fantasyland he was living in, because the return trip was only about an hour shorter.
The hotel has valet parking. Not only that, they require you to give them your car keys. Um, excuse me? You want to take my car keys? Yeah. And they had 1 valet for the 40 or so people, some assholes, who wanted to check in and leave their cars completely blocking the driveway while others are waiting to get in on the icy sloped driveway. That was, in fact, true all weekend. You would go to get your car out, would wait 10 minutes just to find a valet, and then another 20 minutes while they went to get your car, and then they whined about how nobody was there in the freezing cold to actually claim the cars they’d brought out (because they’d gone to wait inside 10 minutes ago).
Anyway, we checked into the room, rested a bit, then went to rent skis and have dinner. Dinner was first on the agenda, as we were all quite hungry. We ate at a sushi/chinese food restaurant. Service was terrible. We waited about 20 minutes for a table, until we finally agreed not to have the all-you-can-eat sushi bar. I was so hungry, and so of course my food was the last to be served. Sigh. At least I got to eat the worst Miso soup I’ve ever had (since when does Miso come with mushrooms? and cold?) and edamame while we waited.
We rented skis (Ken and Jill) and snowboards (John and Brian), securing the equipment with John’s credit card. I was amused by the cool hats at the ski rental place, and was sorely tempted to buy one, as I had forgotten head protection (I have a crocheted hat from Carol, but it’s pink, and I can’t find the purple one, so I tend to “forget” it).
We then took Brian over to his hotel to check in. His hotel was down the block from the Nevada state line, and the area had a decidedly “Fort Lauderdale” feel to it, especially at 10:30 PM on December 30. Ken and Jill and John and I were exhausted, so we left him there (to meander to Nevada and gamble or mack on the ladies at will), and drove back to the hotel to go to bed.
Ken and Jill took a hot tub bath while John and I hit the hay. This was one of those times I broke the “take a hot bath right away” rule while traveling. John and I slept on a pretty uncomfortable hideabed in the foyer area. This suite, though quite spacious for a couple, was a bit cramped and lacked privacy for 2 couples. Really, there are better “we’re sharing with a couple of friends” suites. But it was free for us and a very wonderful gift from Ken, so I don’t complain.
Jill, by the way, is great. We adore her. And she’s not standing over my shoulder, so I’m not being prompted or anything. By the end of the weekend, I found myself mimicing her speech patterns (I do that sometimes), which was kind of cool, though I hope it wasn’t annoying to others.
Tuesday, December 31, 2002
Location: South Lake Tahoe
We met for breakfast at the hotel at around 8:30. Actually, Ken and Jill and John and I had breakfast then. Brian arrived at about 9:15, late because he had to rely on the hotel shuttle, which sucked ass. He found himself running after it at 7:15 in the morning, missing it, catching the 8:15, and spending an hour while it stopped at every conceivable hotel, casino, and ski resort. I’m sure he was annoyed. I wish I had thought to go pick him up instead– it would have been faster and less hassle. However, after the driving from the day before, I was ready for a break from the wheel.
Everyone went off to ski at about 9:45 or so. The weather was very heavy snow and wind– about 70% of Heavenly was closed due to high wind conditions. At 12:15, I walked over to the ski resort with my laptop to see if I could set up in a restaurant or lodge area and type in my old travel journal while drinking hot chocolate and kahlua. No such luck. It was a total mad house. Insane.
I realized, when I wanted to go out to a cybercafe so I could check email, that I couldn’t find my car valet ticket. I checked everything, pockets of my coats, everything, and realized I must have given it to Brian with the change from breakfast.
I spent most of the day in the hotel room, on the computer typing up my old travel journal. I took a hot bath and read a short story. I curled up in front of the fire in the lobby and read a magazine until about 3:45. I was comfy. I was happy. I was not skiing.
At 4:30 or so, the lifts close and everyone was supposed to meet up. I walked over at 4 to see if I could find Brian and to look for food at the resort restaurant. I found him very quickly, standing at the bar drinking his second rum and coke. His snowboard was stolen at about 1:30 in the afternoon, when he was at lunch.
Grrr. Disaster #2: Brian We had a couple more drinks– I ended up having 3 Kahlua and creams.
Apparently, John had had a sandwich from the deli at Heavenly. As he was eating it, he said “this is the worst sandwich I’ve ever eaten.” This turned out to be true, and after he threw it up, he felt much better. Disaster #3: John
We met up with everyone at the locker and gathered various belongings and people. Walked back to the hotel and changed in the room. Brian pointed out that there were bad road conditions and the shuttle and taxis weren’t responding, so we decided to drive.
Ken and Jill showered. John changed into his clothes for the evening. I changed and checked email and LiveJournal (now that John had an internet connection for us). By the time everyone was changed and ready, it was about 6:45 PM. We had absolutely non-negotiable reservations for 8:00. Not 7:55, not 8:05. 8:00. At Caesar’s in Nevada. And Brian still had to change, and we still had to park the car.
We got to Brian’s a little after 7:00. He changed and shaved, but took long enough that we sent Ken in to move him along (it was 7:30). At about 7:35, we drove over to Caesar’s and valet parked the car immediately. We got directions to the restaurant (through the casino, of course), went up, and arrived at about 7:45. And waited for 15 minutes. I went to the bathroom a couple of times (my taco lunch was not digesting well) and remarked on how incredibly beautiful the women who were in there primping were. Brian admonished me for not bringing some of them out.
Dinner was exquisite. One of those experiences that you really wish you could capture in some meaningful way. Really amazing. I was so full, I didn’t know if I’d be able to move. I kind of went into food coma mode at that point, actually. Also, I had 2 glasses of red wine– a cabernet that Ken is wild about. It’s good, but it’s not one I’d necessarily remember. Just because it’s an expensive wine doesn’t mean it tastes better– I’ve had some excellent $8 wines from the grocery store that were quite good.
After dinner at about 11:00, we went across the street to a party Ken had gotten us tickets for. The crowd outside was incredibly huge and somewhat dangerous. The streets, now closed off, were packed. Some loser tried to piggyback into the casino with Brian, but security stopped him on the way in.
Then began the round of Ken and Brian trying to lead the party through the casino until one went off to the left and the other went to the right, and the rest of us stood there and waited for one of them to get some sense and come back. Eventually, we found it and went up to the party.
It was great. There was a good band, food and drinks (we were too full to eat, though), dancing, wonderful. For the drinks, Ken kept trying to get us to drink lots of alcohol. In addition to his tendency to overplan every minute, Ken’s experiences with drinking usually involves off-duty military personnel, so he has no idea how much is enough. Nor does he understand that some people do not like to be drunk. I enjoy drinking, but being really drunk, I’ve discovered, is not much fun. John’s stomach was still a little queasy from the earlier insult, so we took it easy and casual. When the waitperson came by and took drink orders, I said I was still deciding. I then went up to the bar and ordered a Shirley Temple. It’s non-alcoholic, but looks remarkably like the cranberry and vodkas that Jill was having, and since I was loosening up and having a good time, no one questioned it.
I did the same thing an hour or so later with a grapefruit drink, which I told them was a greyhound. I didn’t want to drink, but Ken really wanted people to be using the hosted bar that he’d paid for us to have access to.
Brian had about 13 drinks that night, I think, including the 4 rum and cokes from earlier.
Naturally, there were many pretty women there, though most were with dates. There was one girl who gate-crashed. She was cute but Jill pointed out that she was almost certainly a junkie. She also came right up to Brian (she totally singled out the single males in the crowd) and started talking to him. Let’s see, you’re a single guy at a New Years party and a cute girl comes up to you. Do you: a) stare at her blankly, b) talk to her and ask her to dance, or c) call security. Well, Brian did a. Another guy (who looked remarkably like a gate crasher as well) did b. And someone must have done c, because she was being escorted out when I left for a few minutes to use the restroom. I did later see her talking to some guy– she still held her beer close to her, and she had traded ski hats with him. Aw, how sweet. Junkie love.
At three minutes to midnight, we counted down and blew horns and drank champagne and kissed. And Brian was standing there off to the side, I don’t know, like he was going to go kiss a girl at midnight, but he never actually got close enough to do so. It was very frustrating to see him warring with his desire to meet women and his inhibitions to not intrude on someone else’s time.
There was a very pretty girl there who, as John said, “had some moves.” I really wanted Brian to ask her to dance, but he did eventually end up dancing with another girl. Again, though, he was still quite inhibitied. Even after the 12th drink.
At about 1 in the morning, we left Brian at the casino (hoping he would actually talk to a girl while we were gone) and headed back to the hotel. The streets were pretty empty, some revellers still out, but most of them gone. We drove back to the hotel, ignoring the hitchhikers (in some cases swerving around them as they chose to walk in the street instead of the sidewalk, and because they were actually going up to cars to stick their thumbs in front of the drivers). This was the height of the Rudeness of Others lesson I learned at Tahoe. We were on one of the side streets and swerved slightly to pass some pedestrian/hitchhikers. And the fucker actually hit my car. Yes, he took whatever jacket or thing he had in his hand and swung it at my car. It startled me and angered me, and it made me glad I didn’t have a weapon in the car, because I would have been tempted to use it. I know that he was using his jacket, of course, because he did the same damned thing to the car behind me. As John pointed out later, if he kept that shit up, it would only be a matter of minutes before he hit an SUV full of big, burly guys from the football fraternity. Also, John (so positive when there’s trouble or crisis) pointed out that we really shouldn’t feel too angry– after all, he was walking out in the cold all the way home, while we got to drive. I hope he froze his ass off and eventually got arrested. I really do.
Anyway, we got back, pulled the hideabed out and had to really yank to get the mattress fully out. We crashed hard and went to sleep almost immediately.
More later, including Ken’s disasters. I think Jill was the only one who got through the weekend without a disaster of significant proportions.