Five o'clock AM the alarm went off,
but it actually didn't wake me up. My body had just awakened me two
minutes before. Let's just say I was excited. The plan for the day
was simple. Matthew, Melissa, and I were going with Mr. West to
Whistler and were going to spend the day skiing (me snowboarding...).
Shower was taken, long-johns put on, backpack was packed, and we
boarded the car.
The roads were wet but not icy and we
made good time. A light rain was falling, but it didn't dampen the
sense of excitement in the car. We laughed and talked about the blast
that we had had the previous year when we had done the same thing
(with a little bit bigger group). Soon the excitement calmed and we
found ourselves taking personality tests and laughing at the validity
(or the lack thereof) in the outcomes. After about an half hour, the
personality testing became more sporadic. It wasn't because we were
falling asleep; we were just watching the road for the rocks that
seemed to be everywhere. We would round a corner to find the road
littered with rocks between the size of small pebbles and the size of
cinder blocks. Mr. West would skillfully maneuver through the maze
and, just when the road seemed to be perfect again, we would hit
another rock slide. Each time, there seemed to be a larger and more
formidable supply. Finally everything seemed to be good. We had past
the sections of road that were known for rocks and personality tests
were in full swing again. Mr. West had just started the arduous task
of giving his answers on Matthew's personality when we rounded a
corner to find a rock about a foot cubed right in our flight path. We
swerved to left. I thought we had missed it but no... Bang! For the
next few seconds we crawled slowly forward in silence, but soon
grasped the reality that the front right tire was flat.
“Practical night was last,” I
said. “But this is practical morning,” said Mr. West. So there we
were, lit only by a small headlamp and the ominous flashing of our
hazard lights. Liss searched the shoulder to find a rock to hold the
back tire. But the resource that had been in abundant supply just
seconds before had vanished. Eventually she found one, then in less
than half an hour we were back on the road again. The car manual said
that under no circumstances were we to go over 50mph on a spare tire.
That was kind of a bummer, but we soon realized that we wouldn't want
to go any faster than that anyway. It was snowing and the roads were
icy. At one point we were coming up to a bridge at probably 15mph and
the car just started sliding sideways. Not a good feeling. Mr. West
pulled out of the slide and we crawled on.
After about an hour of this, we
finally dropped off the high road and headed down into the valley.
The closest town was Pemberton, which was 45 minutes from Whistler.
Our plan was to stop there, change the tire, and grab a bite to eat.
As we drove along in the rain, we passed a hitchhiker. We figured we
could take him to Pemberton so we turned around and picked him up.
His name was Melvin and he looked like a Melvin... (I'll leave that up to your imagination.) He was a local and was hitchhiking to church
because the insurance on his car had run out (At least that's what he
said). He worked as a night-shift janitor ad a couple grocery stores in town. We explained to Melvin our predicament and he bluntly told us
that there was no tire place in Pemberton that would be open on a
Sunday morning. “But”, he said, “I can show you the best place
for breakfast in town.” We had to eat sometime, so we followed his
directions and found ourselves walking in the door of
Grimm's Diner.
The
best word I could use to describe the diner is Hick.
I'm sitting here trying to figure out how to best paint the picture
and I think the best bet is just to say it how happened.
When
we walked in, Melvin promptly walked to the far corner of the room,
picked a mug off the shelf, and filled it with coffee. Walking back
his seat, he said hi and made small talk with a couple of elderly
people sitting at a table, sipping on their own coffee. We stared at
the menu written in different colors on a chalkboard that was above
the counter. Country music played in the background as we ordered
three “pancake stacks” (four pancakes per stack) and a bowl of
hash-browns. Melvin was reading the newspaper and talking to someone
on the other side of the room about some random news article. People
came and went, but everyone seemed to know everybody. “This is
classic,” I thought. Eventually the pancakes and hash-browns showed
themselves. It definitely wasn't “the best breakfast” I'd ever
had, but it wasn't too bad. Melvin gave us a couple numbers to call
for people who might be able to change a tire, but nothing worked.
We left the diner
and dropped our dear friend Melvin off at church. He invited us to
stay with him, but we had a tire to fix and snow to carve, so we went
on our way. After a few more personality tests and me trying to grasp
that I was an extravert and not an introvert, we arrived at Whistler.
With no tire place open there, the plan was for Mr. West to drive on
to Squamish while Melissa, Matthew, and I would hit the slopes. We
put our gear on and headed out of the parking garage. We passed a
couple that were coming in. They told us that they were done for the
day, that the top of the mountain was closed because of 70mph winds,
and that it was pouring rain at the bottom. How nice... We went ahead
to the ticket counter to see for ourselves, and sure enough, it was
not a good situation. After a couple minutes, we unanimously decided
that is was not worth the money to ski on a day like that, so we
promptly got back in the car and drove to Squamish.
Arriving there, we
pulled into the parking lot outside a Starbucks to get internet so
that we could find what tire place was open. Initially, we just sat
in the car, but ended up going in, buying a drink, and staying for an
hour. While there, we came to the realization that the nearest tire
place that was open was past Vancouver, in Surrey. That was a long
ways away, but it had to be done. Along with that realization came
the epiphany that there was no way we were going to be back to school
that night.
So we called Mrs.
West and Fiona (who were still at FVA) told them to grab some stuff
for us, and had them catch a ride with Jeremy Brousson who was
driving down to Abbotsford that evening. The school's leaving to go
to Las Vegas for a concert tour on Tuesday,” we thought. “What's
the point in going back up to school for a day and a half and then
coming south again. With that, we decided that we would just go to
the West's house and catch the bus as it came by on Wednesday
morning.
So we had a plan,
but we were still driving on a donut tire. We loaded the car and
drove on to Surrey. We got to the tire place at 3:30 and were out of
there by four. We ended up having to buy a new rim and a new tire
because the rock had actually cracked the rim. But we had 4 normal
tires, so we were happy.
It was going to be
a few hours before we could meet Mrs. West and Fiona, so we decided
to go get some food to eat. We pulled into another Starbucks parking
lot and, from the car, got the directions to the nearest Olive
Garden. :) On the way to Olive Garden, however, we got lost, but
there was nothing to fear. We found another Starbucks, and from the
car got new directions. We soon found ourselves at Olive Garden.
Walking inside, we noticed there was substantial line and because we
were starved, we set the 30 min wait threshold. The wait was 30-45
minutes so we hopped back in the car, drove across the street and
went to Red Robin. It was a delicious new experience for Melissa, who
had never been to one before. How she had lived life up to that
point, I do not know...
After Red Robin,
we crossed the parking lot to Dairy Queen. We sat there eating our
Blizzards and watching the winter X-games. We witnessed the first
successful front flip on snowmobile. We also saw a failed double
backflip... not pretty. We all came to the same realization that
flipping snowmobiles was just plain dumb.
We
loaded ourselves into the car, feeling very fat, and drove across the
parking lot to Starbucks. That's right, Starbucks number four. From
the car we got directions to the Broussons' house, where we were
going to meet up with the rest of the West clan. We sat at their
house for a couple hours until they arrived, which was at about 9:45
PM.
Somehow we fit
everyone and everything into one vehicle and made drove off. We
arrived at the West's house after midnight, thoroughly tired.
Talk about a crazy
day! Sure, it hadn't turned out how we had planned but it had still
been a blast. On top of learning that I am an extravert, I learned a
valuable lesson: even if your plans fail, with a positive attitude,
you can always have a blast! We sure did. And of course there was an
extra perk: we got 3 days off of school!
