Passing The Time At A Ski Resort Bar

Safety first, even at the Ski Lodge bar...

I found myself sitting at the bar of a ski lodge on Saturday afternoon in West Virginia. Most folks were there to enjoy an afternoon of outdoor winter fun, participating in snow skiing, snowboarding, and whatever else crazy people do on mountainous snowy slopes to pass the time. I have zero interest in getting involved in any of that crap. I've trudged through and driven in enough snow in the past to last a lifetime. So, I decided to hunker in at the bar to pass the time. There were 2 middle-aged ladies manning the bar during the afternoon, 2 frumpy looking gals with big knockers and frosted blonde hair - you know the type. They were really slow with their service - pitifully slow. I had to wait almost 10 minutes at times for a lousy draft beer to come my way. During the course of the afternoon, I made the acquaintance of a nurse from Charlotte. She was also at the ski resort not skiing. She was there passing the time while her friends and family took part in fun-filled snow activities, like all the loons out that day. Anyway, this nurse from Charlotte was a sister named Tanya and she too got a little annoyed at the shitty service the 2 buxom bartenders were providing. Tanya got into the vodka shots pretty early in the day, so she was feeling it a bit. At one point, Tanya became so irritated with the slow service at the bar that she informed me that the 2 white gals behind the bar were working on CPT. She giggled a bit and asked me if I knew what CPT meant. I had a thought or 2 but decided not to offer an opinion about what CPT meant. Then Tanya informed me that CPT was short for Colored People Time. I responded by telling Tanya, "That's some racist shit right there." Tanya found that amusing, being that she was black and all. Later Tanya told me about a conversation she overheard in one of the ladies bathrooms at the ski lodge. Evidently Tanya witnessed a Vietnamese woman chastising her son about something or other in the can and expressed some concern that this Vietnamese mom would take an 8 year old into the women's room at a ski lodge. I asked Tanya, "Did you catch the son's name?" She responded, "No, why?" I said, "I'm thinking it might be Hung So Low. That would account for why an 8 year old needed help using the bathroom. I mean if the kid really was Hung So Low, wouldn't it stand to reason that he might need a little help in aiming his piss into the toilet. And who better than dear old mom to aid this youngster?" At that point Tanya had fallen off her bar stool in fits of laughter. She couldn't disagree with me though. My theory had some validity.

Speaking of the bathrooms at this ski place in West Virginia, I ventured into the men's room near the bar several times myself during the day. On one of those occasions I found myself at a urinal located just to the right of a stall. I only mention it because while standing at the urinal for around a minute, I heard these wild cries coming from some man in the stall to my right. Whoever this guy was, he was in great pain on the shitter. He was crying in agony, loudly moaning stuff like, "Ooohhhh fuck," or "Aahhhh!!! Uugghhh!!!" I went back into the bar and informed some of the folks about my experience. One of the guys I was there with accused me of exaggerating what I'd heard. About an hour later, I went back into that same bathroom and noticed a sign on the stall where the gentleman was screaming that said - Closed For The Day. I didn't peek inside to see what had occurred to cause the staff at the ski lodge to shut down the stall for the day. But I had some thoughts on what that stall might look like. Flash forward another hour, that same guy who insisted I was telling a bit of a tale about what I'd experienced in the can, came in from some quality time on the slopes. He needed to piss, seeing as how he'd been drinking all day between trips to the slopes. This kid used the same bathroom near the bar that I'd been using. He came back a few minutes later and he was screaming at me, "D, holy fuck, D!!!! I looked into that stall that said Out Of Order. There was shit everywhere!!! Even on the fucking walls, D!!!" I said. "A, why would I  make up a story about a guy in agony in a bathroom stall. And B, what in the world possessed you to look inside the stall? That's some sick shit right there." The kid in question couldn't disagree with me. So, instead of disagreeing with me, the kid ordered a 7 & 7 and drank it quickly. I couldn't blame him. I'm not sure what the protocol is after seeing 2 hour old shit all over a bathroom stall, but I'm guessing that a fast drink isn't a bad start...

Earlier I mentioned the Vietnamese woman and her son in the bathroom, with that in mind, I've always thought it would be cool if Hope Solo, goalkeeper for US Women's Soccer, had a son and named him Hung. Hung Solo. It probably won't happen. I'll grant you that. But I can hope. Can't I?