NYE 09 Part II

For Part II of NYE 09 D-Ron, Thug and I drove from Montreal to Lake Placid. From the moment we left it was a shit show.

D-Ron drives a classic 1970's Jeep, but for this road trip he borrowed his aunt's Pontiac, which was not in great shape but was better suited for a long drive in Canada than his thirty year old truck. I hopped in the car with D-Ron, and Thug drove in his car alone. Since Thug had the directions we followed him. Just as we pulled away D-Ron said to me "Oh, by the way, there's no windshield wiper fluid. That really doesn't matter because the wipers stopped working two days ago." I said "Is it too late to ride with your brother?" I would later regret not pressing this point further.

The drive from Montreal to the US border was the most chaotic of my life. Imagine trying to follow Mario Andretti through a foreign city, in a blizzard, with your windshield splattered with paint and you will have some idea of what we were up against. We were swerving and cutting across lanes at break-neck speeds with no traction or idea if there were cars around us. Several times I rolled down the window and stuck my head out to look for Thug's car. I would then point in a general direction and D-Ron would turn the wheel towards where I was pointing, without even checking to see if was clear. It was nuts.

When we reached the border I couldn't believe we were still alive. We pulled into a line behind Thug's car and I handed D-Ron my passport. For those of you who have never crossed a US border by car it looks a lot like a giant toll booth, only with guns and dogs. After a few minutes Thug was waived through and we pulled up. The border patrol guard was a female, and fairly attractive. D-Ron handed her our passports and said good morning, trying to set a positive tone. She leaned out of the booth, looked at me, and said "Remove your sunglasses and hat" in a very stern voice. So much for positive tone. The questions came in rapid fire succession. She would ask another question before we had finished answering the prior one: "What was the purpose of your trip? Whose car is this? Where do you live? What do you do for work? Do you have any alcohol or tobacco in the vehicle? When did you arrive? Where did you stay? What did you do in Canada? Did you meet anyone there? How do you know each other" As you can see, there are many ways to answer these questions. Did I meet anyone there? Lady, how many fucking people do you meet on an average day? Fifty? A hundred? Yes, I met people there! I didn't say that, but I was certainly thinking it. We just answered politely and bit our tongues.

After a few minutes the guard closed the door to her booth and picked up the phone. Still looking strait ahead D-Ron said "This isn't good". He was right, five seconds later two huge male guards walked over to our windows and said "Out of the car, sir." to each of us. They took the car keys from D-Ron and led us single file to a building 300 yards away that looked like a Soviet gulag. In the building we were led to a small area, separated, and told to empty our pockets onto a long stainless steel table. Out came my wallet, cell phone, camera, empty money clip, two beer bottle caps, and five Trojan condoms. The guard looked at me and I said "Safety first." He wasn't amused. He said "Turn all your pockets inside out" which I did. He said "Where's your money?", to which I replied "At the bar." Again, he wasn't amused, but I wasn't trying to be funny, it was the God's honest truth. I spent ever last cent I had at the bar the night before. He made me take off my coat, then went through all the pockets to make sure they were all empty. In one I had forgotten to remove a Chap Stick. He pulled it out of the pocket, held it up to the light like he was examining a diamond, then pushed it right to my face and said "What's this?". I said "Chap Stick. You know, for your lips." Without saying a word he dropped it on the table and went through my wallet.

While we stood there like idiots with our pockets inside out another, older looking, guard came over and started really questioning us in depth about our "business" in Montreal. Since D-Ron was the driver he bore the brunt of the assault and was getting really nervous. He began to babble, stutter, and was staring up at the ceiling while he talked. He was like Rain Man, I kept thinking "Ray, the ducks are over here, Ray! The ducks are over here." At the end of D-Ron's five minute soliloquy - Canadian travel and the International Hostel System - the guard looked at me and wryly said "Is he always like this?". I shrugged and said "Yeah, I really don't like him much." My sarcasm was rewarded with a quick "Where's your money?" from the guard, and I had to explain again how I spent it all. Though true, this seemed inconceivable to the guard who crossed his arms and said "Look, why don't you guys just tell us where the drugs are." D-Ron and I insisted that there was nothing in the car, but we were wasting our breath.

Long story short they detained us for about an hour. They disassembled the trunk, doors, and probably a good portion of the interior of the car. They also checked our bags and sent a drug dog through the car. Obviously, we had nothing so they found nothing, but it was tremendously unnerving. Finally the guards handed us a small yellow slip of paper that said "Clear" and told us we were free to go. I found it funny that a small Post-It note with the word "Clear" on it was all we needed now to leave the secure area. We just handed it to another guard and we were free to leave with the car. The good news from all this was that whatever they did during their search fixed the windshield wipers, which were miraculously working again!

Two hours later we arrived at the Courtyard Marriott in Lake Placid. We checked in and spent a few hours at the pool relaxing. After, we showered and headed to a place called Wiseguys for dinner. As the night pressed on a few groups of girls came in and a DJ set up a karaoke machine. D-Ron said "I have a great way of meeting these girls." He went over to the DJ then waived me over and handed me a mic. I turned to him and said "I don't sing. If I sing those girls will never talk to us!" He said "Stop being such a pussy. Just sing the words and pretend you love me." I said "WHAT?", but it was too late, the music had already started. I immediately recognized the music, it was the duet "I got you babe" by Sonny and Cher. In the end it was hysterical and D-Ron was right, the girls walked right over to us and introduced themselves. It was genius.

I started talking to this one really tiny girl who looked like Mira Sorvino, so I'll call her Mira. Mira was short, about 5'2", with blond hair and a very trim little body, even in ski clothes. Mira works as a fashion designer and lives in NYC.

We chatted for about thirty minutes, but D-Ron was giving me the signal that it was time to go. I don't know what his rush was, I exchanged numbers with Mira and we agreed to snowboard together the next day.

After Wiseguys the three of us made our way to some of the "hot spots" of the Lake Placid nightlife...both of them. We were drinking a lot with a base of little food or sleep, so at midnight I was toast. Without getting my coat or telling anyone I was leaving I poured myself in a cab and directed the driver to the Marriott.

I woke up early in the morning to a scene very much like the movie The Hangover. As I opened my eyes I was struck by three things: a) a girl tip-toeing out of the bedroom b) a giant patch of red vomit on the floor in front of me and c) the smell of burnt flesh. It took several hours to piece everything together. To make a very long story short, the girl was with Thug, the vomit was mine, and the smell was from D-Ron who set my right eyebrow on fire for pissing on his leg earlier in the evening. I am now missing a large section of eyebrow. Very Nice! I really didn't want to share that part.

We never did ski that day. It was too cold and we were too hungover. We just got in the car and left town. On the way out I sent sent a text to Mira explaining why we weren't skiing. I was surprised to hear that she was disappointed. More on her later.