Friday, November 21, 2008

Breakfast with the Hysterics

I was looking for a picture of Hot Chocolate the drink and this came up, I still think it works

Jesus, Mary and Joseph it's cold outside. Twas a good night in Boston sports as the Celtics won against the Decline Pistons. But instead of talking about sports this fine late fall morning, its time for a little Hazel Maes Landing Strip Theatre: (Basically the same thing as GHABBY's Tuesday Storytime, only funnier and less diabetic).
Last year Smarty Barrett and I won a Karaoke Competition at a local bar (doing renditions of Forgot About Dre and Aint Nuthin But a G Thang, will discuss this further in another storytime). Our prize for championing such an event was a private party at the bar, and two ski lift tickets to Sunday River in Maine. Well Smarty had no desire to ski, and I had been learning for most of last winter so I decided to have a weekend away with FutureMrs.HZMLS (she loves when I call her that). I reserved a cheap cabin near the mountain, and on a Friday night we drove up. Well call it naivety or just being stupid, but I had no clue that there was such thing as a "7-8 hour drive to Maine". I figured after driving that far I would be hitting Canada, but no, thats about how long of a drive it was from the North Shore to Inn at the Rostay.

How to describe the cabin? Tacky? No that would be giving the cabin's style too much credit. Gross? Nah, I think water stained wall paper and filth, and the rooms were in good shape. Horrifying? Bingo. The rooms still haunt my dreams, put it this way there was a bear motif in every facet of my room. Stuffed bear heads on the wall, bear wall paper, a bear rug, bear towels, even bear sheets. It seemed that this cabin complex had found some sort of white trash Martha Stewart, who was there to spread the Maine cheer of hunting and killing animals. Oh, forgot to mention the best part. We arrived there at 1am, and the place was closed. So the lovely manager just left a note on the office door saying the cabin was unlocked, luckily Ted Bundy never figured out this places security system or I wouldn't be here to regal you in the story. I fucking love Maine, it's the last place in the world you can leave a door open without fearing a terrorist or illegal immigrant will sneak in and murder you while you sleep.

So, after sleeping at the Inn we awoke at 6am to get a day of skiing in up at Sunday River. As we stopped to get gas, the attendant asked us, "Are you here for Parrot head weekend?" My heart stopped, I asked him to clarify. "Yeah every year Sunday River has a huge Jimmy Buffet weekend up here, and they play his music in all the cabins, and everyone dresses up. It's awesome!" Fuck, I hate Jimmy Buffet, and I especially hate Parrotheads. PH's are usually upper class older corporate types, that were too big of a pussy to get into the Grateful Dead, yet still want to "party". They usually wear Hawaiian shirts, some sort of stupid parrot paraphernalia, and most likely did four lines of blow after dropping their kid off at day care.

This was going to be an experience, I knew that much, but what was in store I couldn't have possibly predicted. I drove up to the main gate of the ski resort and the billboard had been changed to "WELCOME HOMO HEADS". Phew at least there were a few other people on the same wave length as me. But the gas attendant was right, the douchebags were EVERYWHERE. Zipping down the trails were Parrotheads with plastic margarita glasses fused to their helmets, parrot hats, and every possible Hawaiian shirt possible. They posed for pictures everywhere on the trails, and regaled with each other on the lifts about their favorite Buffet song, my favorite song is "NOTHING". After about 5 hours of skiing, and listening to "Volcano" and "Margaritaville" like 80 times in the lodge, we left the Parrothead hell hole. What is the purpose of this post? It's a warning to all of you, because these assholes are still out there. Make sure you double check websites before you visit ski resorts, because if you don't you may be sharing a chair left with an accountant wearing a purple hawaiian shirt and a fucking shark on his head. And on yeah, they will be back to Sunday River this year :
This annual festival is a weekend in paradise! All weekend celebrate with Jimmy Buffet cover bands, contests, prizes, parties, and more! Sunday, Pond Skimming kicks off the day, followed by our famous Key-lime pie eating contest. Help the Parrot Head Club of Maine spend a fantastic weekend, with skiing, parties, sun and more! And don't forget a Sunday River favorite: the Bust N Burn Moguls competition. Mark your calendar now for the party of the year!

Post Script: Feel like we need a little sports here in this post. Here is a video of Horse Dong getting absolutely destroyed last night agast the Bengals:


dAndy ManCandy said...

The fact that exery fucker there assumed you were a Buffet freak had to be the worst part.

Rocco said...

Sounds like fun to me!

2 more feet on the way down in EVL!

Anonymous said...

Oh dear. I am going to have to come clean. I love Jimmy Buffett and music. BUT. I don't do "Parrothead". I think I know where you are coming from. Growing up, our family spent all summer on the water, sailing, swimming, etc. JB is a good music to go along with that fun. In my first job out of college I lived in Virginia, and went to a JB concert. Everyone there was treating it like a party, not paying attention to the music, talking, going for beers, and I was there for the concert. Sounds like somebody's rant recently about sporting events...can't remember who's.
Anyways, I have meet local Parrotheads and they scared me. I am definitely not corporate.
Boatdrinks (a song I love of his!)