My Joyous Vacation
2005 goes out with a total whimper.
First, I have to say something totally irrelevant. I hate being interrupted when writing. And, magically, my dad has an impeccable knack of interrupting me when I'm writing... specifically for this site. Be it to lift something, examine a computer, have lunch, do the dishes... it always happens, and it is always irritating.
Not to mention that I have a really, really difficult time focusing on things, which is why these updates are fairly rare: They usually take around four hours to do, including all of the distractions on the Internet and on chat.
I just got home from west Massachusetts, where I stayed the last week, starting Christmas Eve evening. Why was I in west Massachusetts? Your guess is as good as mine. Did it suck hardcore? Why yes, yes it did, Bruno!
The hotel was mediocre. It made me think of a white kid's grandparents' home, which meant that it evoked homeliness... at least on the exterior. The interior consisted of a kitchen-living room combo and two bedrooms. There were three TVs in the area, though I only needed one to set up the Gamecube.
The Asian family arrived on Christmas day at noon. A father, distant cousin of my own, who didn't speak English. An animated mother who'd lived in New York for a few too many years. A son with hair that screamed "neopunk Asian", whose mouth hung open a little too much.
Living space is a blessing. I adore a hotel under one stipulation: It has plenty of space. This hotel didn't have all that much space - three, four rooms at a stretch - and it now accomodated seven people. Sleeping in the same bed as my sister has always sucked, especially on a couch, but this vacation, she was a total bitch. Never would she shut up, and frequently she'd turn the blanket to let in cold drafts of air. Her whining was comparable to that of Holden Caulfield. Is privacy a lost virtue? Well, for the three days during which they stayed, the answer was yes. Since my sister and I slept on the fold-out living room couch, our slumber was determined solely by when the others chose to turn in. And even so, there was constant banging from upstairs. It seriously sounded like Johnny Damon was1) playing DDR up there.
The kid... I don't think he had an English name. I winced as my sister and I had to patronize his limited English comprehension as we played cards. It was not an enthralling experience; it was more comparable to sitting at an Asian party for two days straight. The kid was actually surprisingly good at Mario Kart: Double Dash!!... and, per usual Asian parents, we played it very sparingly.
Swimming sucks. If there is anything I dislike more than snowboarding or skiing, it's swimming. Talk about a low fun to work ratio. In snowboarding, it's get dressed and wet and cold for an hour before going for two minutes down a hill whilst trying to avoid getting killed. The two minutes are usually decently fun. In swimming, it's get naked and wet with no gratification whatsoever. What. The Fuck.
Snowboarding wasn't really that bad. Except that on the first day, the woman who was fitting my boot seemed to think that I didn't understand English. She was just a tad too rough, and she would talk loudly and rudely. ... It turns out that her English probably wasn't all that great, since she kept yelling "raise your heel!" until I realized that what she meant was "raise your toe!". The car ride was dizzying. Seven people should not go in the same minivan. Beyond that, wiping out can be fun, but not if it's on pure ice, and especially not if you twist your ankle - and the snowboard. I have no idea how I managed it, but I succeeded in twisting one of the foot-seats from an outward pi/12 angle to an inward pi/4 angle.
Whatever.
Gaming on vacation was decent. After failing again and again to beat the final boss of Sonic 3 & Knuckles, my dad and I sat down for some nostalgic Sonic 1 by owning the first game. And forgetting to wait to unlock the next game.
*sigh*
Sadly... pathetically... the best part of this vacation was TV. I wish I were kidding, but I watched an insane amount of cable TV this vacation. Spike TV loves their James Bond marathons, and I do as well. I watched a good amount of the Roger Moore films, complete with terribly repetitive commercials. Never again will I look at the word "Hostel" the same way. And I never want to see a wrestling commercial again in my life. Actually, I didn't want to see wrestling commercials ever again before that, either. Pity.
And then there was TV shows. I actually watched TV shows this vacation. I was entertained for hours on end as my eyes idly darted across the screen: Whose Line Is It, Everybody Loves Raymond, Seinfeld, That 70s Show. It was bliss! Except that my sister was watching, and it's sort of awkward to laugh at sexual innuendo on TV while your sister asks you, "What's a whore?"
This was also one of the first vacations in which I returned home with a hell of a lot more stuff than with which I entered. I left with an insane amount of clothes. Or a lot for me. Perhaps some people buy that much monthly. Whatever. A sweater, a sweatshirt, two pairs of pants, a pair of gloves, a snowjacket, and snowpants. Seriously, who needs to bring clothes when you're supplied with an entire wardrobe to take home?
Funny thing about food. I eat Chinese food daily, so basically I feast every evening. But when Chinese people feast, things get ugly. Thank God the Asians only had "huo guo" once, and they only made black chicken soup once as well. x_X
So I was going to school from the front entrance for some reason. Jeff Yates and Dave Riley were there. A rather decent mix of people, which reminded me oddly, in hindsight, of band freshman year. I walked into the front entrance, where Wild Bill stood. Yates and I looked in confusion. I said to Bill, "Why aren't we coming in?"
A grin lit up his face. "You missed it!"
"What?"
"No classes today! It's the day before finals start!"
I stared at him, nodding, remembering that there was always a day off before finals began. How stupid was I? I laughed as I left in the June sun, reflecting over my junior year.
How were my SATs? Not that bad. How was Steege? Did I ever manage to recover?
The question hovered in my mind, when suddenly I wondered why Yates and Dave Riley were there. They had already graduated. Disappointed by this burst of logic, I woke up, disappointed.
Sadly, the above dream was one of the higher points of this trip.
Looking forward to a better 2006...
SD
Dec. 31, '05
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