Four-course meals every night... My own smiling ski guide to take me out into the backcountry every day...
... only to return to the hot tub which has even more stellar mountain views than my room. Meanwhile, mail went unopened, bills went unpaid and the ongoing bureaucratic snafu that is my life continued without me, while I -- sans cell phone and laptop -- soaked blissfully unburdened as it all piled up at home.
Well I'm back now. But too damn bleary to do anything halfway productive so all I can really do is gaze upon my photos and remember the good old days yesterday when I was skiing in Utah (yes, that tiny dot is me.)
You'll be happy to know no thunderstorm materialized in Salt Lake City as I flew in. However, I am sorry to report that there is not a safety bar to be found ANYWHERE at the Alta Ski resort. This made for some tough times for this not-so-intrepid-wanna-be-travel journalist who was running low on Xanax.
But I only spent half of one day riding those those metal deathtraps before realizing I needed to hoard the Xanax for the return flight (in case of more so-called thunderstorms), so on Friday afternoon I threw in the towel and took a freakin' nap. The next two days I spent getting to the mountain tops they way humans are supposed to: ON FOOT.
xo,
Rebecca
