Mortaine’s Blog

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The rest of the travel disasters are here.

Update: Pictures from the trip are available here

Wednesday, January 1, 2003
Location: South Lake Tahoe

We had planned to meet at the hotel at 9 in the morning, hoping to get a good day of skiing in before we had to leave. Brian in particular wanted this, because he had only had a half-day on Tuesday. Because the suite only had alarm clocks and telephones in the outer room (not the bedroom), I was the one waking up to answer the wake-up call. Yes, me. The one who could give a flying fuck what time we get up, since I wasn’t skiing. Ken had me set the wake-up call for 8:45 in the morning. There’s no fucking snooze bar on the wake-up call, so I was up at 8:45, thank you very much. We were going to meet at 9.

Yeah, right.

John & I got up at 8:45 and used the bathroom, packed, put away the hideabed, etc. Packed more. Packed more still. At about 9:15, 15 minutes after we were supposed to meet for breakfast, I finally heard Ken and Jill moving in the other room. That was how the rest of my morning went– Ken was just moving sloooow. He didn’t even pack until after breakfast, basically in the 30 minutes before checkout (by which time I was ready to kill him).

Now, in his defense, Ken was hung over like hell. He threw up after breakfast, making that two of our little band of five who had spewed their last meal. Disaster #4: Ken

Anyway, Jill hit the slopes after breakfast, with plans to meet at the room at about 2:30 to pack the car and go. For some reason, we thought check-out was 3 PM.

It’s a good thing we checked (at 11AM, mind you)– checkout was at noon. And despite asking twice, we were unable to get them to say that we could check out late. So, between 11:05 and noon, we packed the rest of the things and carried everything up to the lobby, where Brian fell asleep on the couch, watching our belongings.

By the way, that’s where I did the thing that I shouldn’t have done. I was so fed up with Ken’s slowness, the fact that I was basically watching the day creep away from us, the fact that I still needed to get the car out (which, as you will recall, takes 30 minutes), and load it. The fact that both Brian and Ken were almost acting as though they expected me to pack for them. Now, I’ll load the car by myself if I have to, but I do not pack anyone else’s things up. Brian hadn’t finished packing in the morning– so, no. I’m not going over there after everyone goes to the slopes to pack your things and check you out of your hotel. No. I’ll load your things into the car and check you out, but I don’t pack other people’s things.

So, I was all fed up and frustrated and feeling generally a little rushed. And I decided to speed things up by doing the “last sweep” of the room. I checked the bedroom and didn’t see anything, checked the bathroom– clear, checked closets, checked the entry room. Grabbed the folder and left. I met Ken in the hallway, told him it was clean, but that he was welcome to check it if he wanted.

He should have checked. I should have been more careful in my sweep.

We went up to the lobby and started loading the car while Ken checked out. I drove Brian over to the resort while everyone walked, dropped him off (ignoring the nasty people in other cars who were assholes as I tried to drop a skiier off– who would have expected that at a ski resort?), and decided to drive into town to buy a pencil. Really, I needed to get away from the hotel for a bit, just to drive around, and maybe see some pretty views. If nothing else, I needed a pencil so I could sketch– I brought sketchbook but forgot the pencil.

So, I found a Raley’s and pulled in. I found a spot, parked, and walked over to the grocery store. Believe it or not, the only thing I bought was a mechanical pencil (.7 mm lead, in case anyone wants to know). I went out to the car, got in, and proceeded to try and find the exit.

There was no exit. The exit was blocked by about 5 cars. I couldn’t get out. There was just the entrance. Should I drive up the wrong way?

Across the parking lot, I spotted a plowed path in front of a real estate building– impossible to see if it fed out to the street, but it was wide enough for a car, so I figured it was probably a poorly-cleared space for cars to exit. I went over, eased the car over the low ridge of the snowbank (only on one side– it was a tight squeeze because of a car parked pretty close in), and drove forward.

Almost into the crosswalk. I was on the fucking sidewalk. Shit. I am a good driver– I do not drive on sidewalks. And believe me, there was no room to turn around. I would have to back up.

Which I did, mostly. With some amused and confused pedestrians wandering around me. Unfortunately, the greyhound-mobile only has front wheel drive, so reverse doesn’t always have as much control as forward. I kept ending up too much into the small snow pile (it was maybe 18 inches tall, maybe less). Just on the left, mind you. Tires spinning all over the place, not moving, not going where I wanted to, and I was terrified of coming free suddenly and skidding across the 10 feet to the nearest parked car.

Nope. Instead, I eased over the snow pile and one of the audience members pointed to my snow chaiins (which sounded horrible during this experience). I asked if it was off– he said yes. I get out– sure enough, something is wrong because the chain is all over the place. And I have no clue how to put it on, but it only took John and Brian a couple of minutes in the snow and rain, so how hard could it be? At least it was warm out. I dismissed the bystander’s offer for help (stupid stupid stupid) and proceeded to get the instruction book out for some help.

Yeah. Right. Disaster #5: Stephanie

It was soaking wet. At one point, as the left knee of my jeans was soaking in icy cold water and I dropped the blingual instructions, I thought “Why the hell isn’t this documentation laminated? And why does it only have instructions for putting the chains on?” Because I needed to get them off, assess any damage, and then hopefully put them back on. But the tech writers had taken the time and space to provide these instructions in several languages, including photographs (which were absolutely essential), but hadn’t spared any space for how to take the damn things off. They never asked themselves “Under what conditions will the user be using this product or document? Will it be cold? Dark? Wet? Outdoors? Will they be seeking this information, or have it thrust on them? Will they have prior experience with this type of product? Will the same user who puts them on also remove them?” No, because if they had, they would have to acknowledge the fact that the instructions should have been laminated, even if it cost $1 more per document, and that the user might pay someone to put their chains on (we saw people doing that for $50 and up), but might think it’s easy enough (or just dry or warm enough, if weather conditions change so they’re not needed anymore) that they can remove them on their own.

Sigh.

Anyway, I did finally get the chain off, checked it, fixed the rubber fitting, and put it back on. I actually did a pretty good job– in any case, it lasted until we took them off on our way out of town that evening. By then, it was after 1:30 PM, and I had promised to meet John in the lobby at about 3. I returned to the hotel. With my pencil.

I hung out in the lobby and sketched the mountain and wrote my thoughts about the trip and Tahoe in general. It was nice– I did that in D.C. in October as well– I made 3 sketches and wrote my thoughts out about the places in a little note-sketch book. The top half of each page is blank sketch paper, and the bottom half is college ruled composition paper. My sister made her art students use these for their art journals, and she bought me one about a year ago. It’s become my new travel journal, and is nice and lightweight. Also, I seem comfortable enough using a mechanical pencil on it, so I don’t really have to bring anything “extra” on my trips (just as long as I actually remember to bring the mechanical drafting pencil…)

Everyone met up at about 3 PM. We dropped off the skis at the rental place and then went to Brian’s hotel and checked him out. He still had the room until today, so our “late checkout” wasn’t such a big deal.

We then went to the police station for Brian to file his report (required in order to get the credit card’s insurance to claim it– my idea, by the way, that the credit card might cover a stolen rented snowboard). We knew to go to the sherrif, and we even had directions. We arrived at 4:55, only to discover that they close at 5 PM, and they had apparently gone home a bit early. Damn. Well, Brian had 48 hours to file the report, so he had a chance, at least, today, to do so.

Next stop: Pizza for dinner. This was my desire, really, though others were amenable. I wanted pizza. We decided on a Family sized with meatballs on one side and black olives + mushrooms on the other side. I am extremely picky about pizza, so we also got a Large. I was still in the “decided between types of pizza” stage when Ken ordered it with 1/2 “Bronx Butcher” (all meat– Brian wanted that) and 1/2 “The Californian,” which I was considering, because it was basically an artichoke heart/garlic/spinach pizza, which is something I can enjoy.

After the Family pizza came, and everyone was devouring it, and I was still waiting for a pizza I could eat (yes, my food was last again), I noticed some text on the menu board. I squinted and discovered that the pizza we’d ordered had all those good things, and pesto.

I hate pesto. If I’d been able to order my own pizza, I probably would have realized that it was on there, and would have ordered the pineapple and ham. But, no– Ken had ordered instead of waiting for me to make up my mind (John knows better than to do this, by the way).

The pizza came– I was too late to ask for a change in the order. And I ate it, because I was hungry and the rest of the toppings masked the pesto, which wasn’t as strong as other pestos can be.

We got on the road, finally. Took off the chains and got onto Highway 50, which we took all the way to Highway 5 in Sacramento before stopping for gas, bathroom, water, and a break. That’s also where I switched drivers with John, because I was pretty fatigued and needed a break. I dozed off several times on the way back, waking up as John kept complaining about the heat (I was freezing, he was overheating– argh!)

11:00 PM. Half an hour before we got to Ken’s house, I am awakened by “I left my keys in the hotel room.” What? Huh? The certainty was pretty awful, but it was also the kind of certainty I’m familiar with, even though I was hoping that the fact he’d been sick that morning might mean Ken had just forgotten picking them up.

Yeah. Disaster #6: Ken Sure enough, he’d left his keys there. He called the hotel– they’d never seen his keys, and tried to brush him off. He called the property management for his apartment and got an answering service. He eventually called a locksmith and paid $50 for the privilege of being let into his own apartment in about 30 seconds (but 30 minutes after he called). Sigh. He and Jill unloaded their gear and went, I hope, to bed.

John and Brian and I then went over Highway 17 at midnight. We arrived at about 12:45, loaded Brian’s truck with his gear, and waved good bye as he headed home. Brian’s is about 10 minutes from our house, so I’m sure he was fine getting home. We went in, huggled the dog, and checked the pet sitter’s logs. Everything seemed fine, though I did find the remains of a mess in the living room later today (it could have been carried in by my delinquient dog), and the pet sitter broke my cat’s food dish while washing it, but has already painted a new one for him. Oddly, the old dish looks like it was glued back together. I suspect actually that her employee, George, may have broken it, tried to glue it, and that they then decided to just replace it. Honestly, my cat’s dishes are special because we made them for him, but that’s the second incarnation of that dish– I already broke it once.

I then got into my PJs and crawled into bed to snuggle Allegro. I almost laid my head on the pillow, but then I smelled it.

Cat pee.

Yes, at 1:30 in the morning, we were tearing all the bedding off the bed and changing the sheets (we never seem to change the bedding during daylight hours). Allegro has lower urinary tract disease, which basically means he gets infections and pain and such, and we have to be careful of blockages. I got to take him to the vet today and get meds– he’s on antibiotics (in case of an infection) and anti-anxiety drugs (so he can be more mellow?)

Sigh.

So, that was the end of the trip. That was our vacation, our last one for a while, at least. Our next trip will certainly be a camping excursion. Oddly, it was still a fun trip. I’ve focused on the negatives here, but it was a great trip. Lots of fun, lots of activity, a fair bit of conflict but we never got mean with each other or anything. We had A Good Time.