Oh where to start, what to tell you? The trip to Whistler is a long one. One flight to Anchorage on a nine seater (eek!), one flight to Seattle, one to Vancouver, snarky border guards and then a two hour drive up to the mountains. I knew this time not to expect any smiles or even the slightest suggestion of friendliness from those surly border folk. My friend got harassed for looking the wrong direction and my "lady" was not impressed with my "fly by the seat of my pants" mentality. No tickets? Don't know the name of your hotel? You must be a moron and we will treat you like one.But, Mr. Ritter had arranged a car service for us and that was a nice experience, especially on the way home when we got to see the Sea to Sky Highway during the day. And also because I got to feel like a baller when we stopped at the gas station and were witnessed getting out of a town car with an actual driver. Because all ballers stop at Petro Canada for their souvenir shopping. Big pimpin, spendin' G's. Ok, I don't think my brain is working well enough to continue writing right now. Off to bed and I'll do another installment tomorrow after a little more sleep. For now I'll just say it was an amazing weekend and I'm a very lucky person.
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