Tube City, A Photo Essay

So, I've told you before how awesome my company is, right? Well, to celebrate a milestone they gave us last Friday off and took us up snow-tubing at a local ski resort. The awesomest part, though, was the OPEN BAR.

Some explanation is needed to fully appreciate the chaos that it was. I work with mostly boys. Crazy, adolescent, and very competitive boys. We broke every single rule and paid dearly for it. To start things off, here is the beautiful mountain. Yes indeed, it was a beautiful day. Beautiful and 6 whole frigging degrees. (-38 degrees with the wind-chill factor.) NEGATIVE 38 DEGREES. My world tends to hover between 40 and 75 all year 'round. This was quite a shock to my poor little system. Nevertheless, we tubed in pure ice. It doesn't look steep in the picture, but HOLY CRAP IT IS.

You really must pay attention to the signs in these pictures. One sign reads "No Loose Clothing, No Long Hair Exposed and No Scarves." Signs, Bah! I had on an unzipped coat, a scarf, my long hair blowing in the wind and an elf hat. (A snowboarding hat.) Up the rope tow I went. At the top, you are supposed to roll to your side off of the tube, then grab your tube and go down the hill. Well, my hat got caught in the rope tow, took it off my head, then the wind blew my hair around the rope tow cable, and around, and around and around it went. The rope tow is a constantly moving cable. The rope tow drug me by my hair up the mountain and bashed my head against the metal wheel pulley. I have never been so scared in all my life. I have never screamed so loud in my life. The rope tow took a chunk of my hair for a souvenir. That tuft of hair went 'round and 'round the rest of the day as a tidy little reminder of how much of a total and complete utter idiot I am. I also had a nice little goose-egg on my skull. No matter. A-tubing-I-will-go.

In the photos, you'll see me skidding to a stop in the ice, looking much like the Michelin Man (or the Pilsbury Dough Girl, whichever you prefer) with my four layers on, but also looking ever so girly in my forbidden pink scarf. Next, we have the "Please Stay Off the Walls" sign. But where's the fun in that? The operators called my coworker Phil's accident, "The best crash we've seen all season." Everyone survived, some of us were just more maimed than others. Phil has a broken rib, and I have a bald patch and a throbbing head. After all of our painful fun, I had many coffee nudges. Alcohol saves the day, again.