In a rare bout of spontaneity, Adam and I decided to bolt off to Whistler for a portion of the long weekend.
We didn't commit to the full three days, because:
1) Crowds make us insane
2) We didn't want to spend mad cash
3) I had lamesauce homework to do
My Friday was spent boozing it up at a co-worker's retirement party. I didn't make that much of a fool of myself (I think...), but I did stumble out of there smelling like I poured every alcohol in the world on my shirt. Poor Adam. He dutifully picked me up and drove me home. Apparently, I started talking about a shirt made out of "baby owl fur". Yeah, I don't know.
So he put me to bed and I tried to pretend that the bed wasn't tilting from side to side.
My Saturday was spent doing horrible homework for my Forensic Investigator course(WOW FUN)and returning the 32342 library books I took out the week before. I was also sweating out all of the debauchery from the night before, so I decided to soak up the remaining alcohol with some carbohydrates in the form of pizza.
After laying pretty low on Saturday, I was ready to go get my long weekend on!
So after visiting the most dis-organized Tim Hortons in the history of ever, we hit the road for a beautiful drive along the Sea-to-Sky highway to our destination.
Whistler wasn't as crowded as we feared and we happily wandered around the village. We spent that first day basically eating and taking pictures.
And, speaking of eating, I had the best caramel apple of my life there. Oh god, it was sublime.
I wish I was eating it right now.
That night, we had dinner at the literally-named "21 Steps". I gnawed on some prime rib, at creme brulee and basically rolled myself back to the lodge.
Speaking of which, the place we stayed was...eccentric.
It was a loft set up, with a living room, kitchen and bathroom on the main floor and a bed up stairs.
And I mean Up. Stairs.
Seriously, you basically had to get out rock climbing gear to get up there. I was terrified to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night because I didn't want to break my legs. Because then I would have broken legs and a full bladder. Which would suck.
The suite also had a fireplace and we skeptically purchased one of those ~easy fire logs~ from the front desk. It was essentially wood chips and glue.
And it refused to burn. It would halfheartedly ignite on one side and then Adam I would watch it fizzle out in about three minutes.
Our dreams of cuddling beside a roaring fire were not to be. Instead, we read our respective books and drank tea.
The next morning, we ascended BlackComb mountain via two chair lifts and rode the "Peak to Peak" gondola to Whistler mountain.
The Peak to Peak was both scary and interesting. And also scary.
I'm always vaguely suspicion of technology that cradles my life in its cold, metallic hands.
And this was no exception.
And Adam totally helped ease my fears by saying things like "If we fall now, we're plummeting over 600 feet!"
But the views were pretty! And it totally made me want to ski again.
I figured that I had just risked my life on the gondola, so I could totally handle strapping myself to two skinny boards and going hurtling down a mountainside.
We took much many pictures, so I'll let you enjoy some visuals:
Posing on a balcony
We're going up there?!
We abuse our bears in Whistler by sitting on them.
Tea + book = contentment
Adam on a chairlift. This is his "whee!" face.
Adam not on a chairlift. This is his "stop being paparazzi" face.