The Bloody Quest Part II: Tips On Drinking Responsibly

1. Drink in the morning

Ask anyone in Vail where you can find the best Bloody Mary and the question will almost certainly be answered with, 'The Westside Cafe.” Not only is Westside home to morning cocktails, it's also a favorite local haunt and there's usually a waiting line, even on off-peak season weekends. The menu, which boasts 8 varieties of Eggs Benedict and a breakfast burrito that's bigger than my face, is excellent, the staff is friendly and unassuming and the coffee is always flowing.

The Westside Cafe is a 'morning after' paradise and the Bloody Mary fits right in. The drink is served in a glorious glass goblet, filled to the salted rim and comes with a hefty garnish and a Fat Tire sidecar. I've admired the drink before from across the table but never had my own because, well, drinking before noon never really seemed like that great of an idea. But given the train wreck that was Bloody Quest Part I, when my friend Alise and I thought it wise to drink at Happy Hour, I decided that I might as well give morning drinking a try.

Unfortunately, the Westside Cafe Bloody Mary can be summed up as such: DISAPPOINTMENT. Check it out: 

Ambiance Out of 5	Appearance Out of 5	Garnish Out of 5	Flavor Out of 5	Spice Out of 5	Overall Out of 10
5	4.5	Content: 4 Quality: 3.5	2	1	5
Westside is where the locals hang, nuf said.	This is a drink for the gods, the glass is huge, full of garnish goodies and comes with a side car	Varies but between us we got olives, corn, pickles, onion, bacon, spicy peppers and celery	Ahh the downfall…it just gets too watered down with all the ice! Needs more flavor baby!	On the plus side, there are 4 diff varieties to choose from: go with the Spicy and it goes up to 3	Only because we like Westside so much, but at $9.95, I’ll probably stick to coffee

So, in the end we decided to give the Westside Bloody an overall score of 5 out of 10, and that's only because it looks so cool, comes with a side car and you get to drink it along with some killer chai flavored pancakes. Plus, if you come in with your sweatpants, flat hair and bags under your eyes, no one thinks anything of it! 

 2. Drink with a meal

 A few days later, the Quest led us to Tavern on the Gore. It was an optimistically sunny March afternoon and we decided to sit on the deck and have lunch while we judged the bar Bloody. So in addition to a tasty sandwich and flavorful clam chowder, we also enjoyed a smooth cocktail, which, at a score of 7.5 out of 10, passed our quality test with ease. 

Ambiance Out of 5	Appearance Out of 5	Garnish Out of 5	Flavor Out of 5	Spice Out of 5	Overall Out of 10
4	3	Content: 1.5 Quality: 3	4	1	7.5
Sunny day, deck by the creek? Yes, please Tavern on the Gore	Tasty looking spices suspended in a thick looking concoction	Lime, olive, peppercini, no lemon! Alise is incensed!	There’s some definite cocktail sauce going on here, but it’s got flavor without over powering	If you like a Bloody, but don’t like em so hot, this drink is for you!	The high score only applies for sunny warm days when you can sit outside. $10 for a solid drink thumbs up

 

 3. When you've already had a couple, try sharing!

 Later this same week, Alise and I went out with a friend and ended up at the Ore House. Both a couple of beers in, we decided we should Quest the Bloody, but also knew that one more drink might not be the best path to an early night in and a vibrant morning the next day. So, we decided to split one. A good thing too, since the Ore House Bloody Mary was not that impressive. 

Ambiance Out of 5	Appearance Out of 5	Garnish Out of 5	Flavor Out of 5	Spice Out of 5	Overall Out of 10
3	2	Content: 2 Quality: 3	2	3	4.5
Ore House inh Good view of Bridge Street Local tourist meet up	Short with no salt rim, already not excited to try this drink	Olive, lemon lime. Alise is happy with the citrus, I wish I had a pickle	The drink is a bit rough with a bitter finish and horseradish flavor	It is spicy…I guess	The nice thing is at $7 we didn’t waste too much money. Thumbs down

The Bloody Quest: Part I

I woke up the morning after with the worst hang-over I have EVER had in my life. And this includes college, where I—though admittedly, was the nerd who spent Sunday afternoons working on extra-curricular science projects in the lab—also spent a considerable amount of Friday nights in an alcohol induced faze resulting in Saturday morning questionnaires to answer the supremely mysterious question, “What did I do last night?” 

A Few More Days of Peace

Walking down the streets of Vail Village during the busy season is a hazardous event. Swinging skis, sidetracked tourists, and temper tantrum throwing children are just a few of the obstacles one faces on the journey from the parking structure to the ski lift. Vail ain't no city, but the place does fill up. It’s a good thing it does, because in some way or another, that’s how we all find work. 

And do we ever find it.

Vail is not a cheap place to live, and since jobs are scarce 3-4 months out of the year, people make up for it by becoming veritable workaholics when jobs are aplenty. It’s not uncommon to have three or more gigs throughout the winter. Personally, I’ve never been a fan of having more than one employer—but even I seem to pick up those second jobs like a bad habit, because, that’s just how we make it work.

I'll sleep when...the snow melts.

But for now, the lazy fog of shoulder season has yet to lift. The streets are empty, the restaurants are slow, and there’s rarely a wait for morning coffee. Yes, our pocket books are slimming but it only takes 3 minutes to walk the entire length of Bridge Street! Which is fortunate since, once you arrive at the bar near the end and realize they have about as much going on as my great aunt’s house on pinocle night, the extra time is needed to run back to the bus before it leaves for home.

Don’t worry, this ghost town won’t be dead for long. The lifties arrive this week and the mountain opens soon after. Better enjoy the break now, the odds are, in a couple months we'll be thinking of this time fondly.

Homesick

It's not a feeling I experience very often and mostly it's because, I wonder, where is home?  I haven't lived in the same place for more than 10 months since I left my parents' home. And though I've been in Vail just shy of two years, I seem to move residences with the season, and the transient nature of the community makes it seem like a new place every year. You don't even qualify for local status until you've been here nearly a decade, so I've agreed to call this place home-base, but reticent to call it home.

Yet that is what it is.

Like most workers in a mountain ski town, I use the off-season to visit friends and family around the country. I'm fortunate to get to go to some awesome places, and I recently returned from New York.

It was beautiful. I went hiking through real fall leaves, the kind that actually crunch under your feet and turn colors other than aspen yellow. I canoed on a clear glass lake, ate an organic farm to table dinner at a candle lit picnic table--yes, it was that ridiculously idyllic. 

It was a great week.

But I was ready to come back.

I thought it was the trees I loved but in the forests of New York, with all its dense diversity and canvas painted scenery, I realized it was the mountains; they have a way of folding you in, holding your feet solidly to the ground even when your eyes wonder up and up to steep crags, jagged riffs.

I leave again today for Minnesota, where the scenery this time of year is nothing, in comparison to last week in New York. In the flat and open space between the small Midwest towns I'll drive through, I suspect I'll miss Vail even more, and though I'll enjoy my time with my family, odds are I'll harbor a thought with smooth content, the desire to come back home.

Snow Dancing in September??

I am out in the village some afternoon last week when it starts to snow—those big wet flakes that turn to slush as they hit the ground and make great snowballs for chucking at your friends. I smile. Who doesn’t like the first snow? A lady comes outside of a shop near the international bridge and starts spinning in lazy circles. She is waving her hands around and screaming in delight. My smile slips.

For the love of God, woman, it is too early for this kind of behavior.

Too early in the season, I mean.

Here’s the thing my snow freak friends: I know you want your powder already, but we could still have a solid month of good hiking left. We’re forward people thinking up here, and I like that, but let’s take a moment and enjoy the season we are STILL IN. The first day of autumn was only a week ago and it’s going to stay around until November 22***. I am going to put off snow dancing until then. In the meantime, why don’t we grab a sweater, take a walk in the backyard and watch what happens when the gold of the aspens meets the gold of the sun going down behind the hills? It’s very nice, and if you post a picture of it on Facebook all your friends will be jealous.

If you’re thinking of starting snow rituals already, just stop. You are only pissing off the gods, who probably don’t like greedy ski bums. We don’t need snow for another 6 weeks, all right? Petition them at THAT point, otherwise we might end up with eight feet in October and nothing more until February.

But, don’t worry, this will be my third winter here, and the past two years were nothing but lame shortcomings compared to seasons past…I’m thinking that means the odds are it’s gonna dump. 
  

***Actually, winter starts December 21, however, the resort opens on November 22, so I'll give you the earlier date on that technicality

Sorry Babe, It's a Powder Day

Sometimes on a good snow day I purposefully seek out a friend who skis slower than me so that I can look down from some sort of high-road perch at all the snowboard rats and ski bums in this place that accept the saying, “There are no friends on a powder day,” providing justification for them to ditch anyone who can't keep up on the mountain.

It's not that I've never lost someone on a run and then hopped on the lift without them, but the blatant attitude of, “no friends on a powder day,” suggests that there is a measurable division separating our relationships from an activity we love. We shouldn't have to decide between the two, but often we do.

Maybe it's because I feel this way and I subconsciously attract friends with similar attitudes, but I seem to know an awful lot of girls in this town who really really like skiing, but aren't so obsessed with it that the idea of living somewhere without a mountain in the background is impossible. These women might rather, say, have a lazy morning in bed, than wake up in the dark and cold to catch first chair.

This, however, is not the choice their boyfriends would make.

And it's not like boyfriends are cheerfully calling out, “Come with me, we can do this together!” as they brew an extra cup of coffee. It's more like, “I know it's our anniversary babe, but we got 12 inches last night...I'll give you 6 later,” as they run out the door.

So how do we, the women who are super AWESOME but not crazy adrenalin junkies, respond?

1. We try to make it a couple's activity: 

But...usually we aren't exactly on the same page speed wise, and if you've ever had to wait for your visiting gaper friends and family to get down the hill you understand that isn't sustainable.
The other day my friend Gwen was commenting on her boyfriends inability to wait for her on the slopes, “My goal this year is for us to ride together once or twice, like actually together, not to just sit on the same lift for a few runs.”

Good luck, I say to her.

2. We fake enthusiasm, and not just for snow sports, people here are also crazy about their summer near death activities: 

My friend Hannah's boyfriend wanted her to enjoy mountain biking as much as he did, so they bought a new bike for her this season.

How does she like it?

“It terrifies me,” she confesses one day over lunch. Not in a good way.

3. We stick around, even when we are sooo over this dinky tourist ski town: 

“Everyone knows the only reason I'm still here if because of him,” Jenny admits,  “Everywhere else we've looked at is too far away from the mountain.”

And Jenny loves riding, she really does, just not to THAT point.

There's only so much a girl can put up with, and some of my friends have decided to ditch the dude and try out the "real world" that exists beyond this snow globe.  I imagine they'll find there the truth of the matter is that hobbies, and interests of all kinds, can drive a wedge through a relationship if you let them. Musicians hit the road, triathletes push through arduous training schedules, and career minded breadwinners stay late at the office.

In Vail it just happens to be the mountain in between. 

But is it really?

            Remember Jenny, who claimed to stay here just because of her man? 

They broke up a couple months ago.

She's STILL here.

Isn't that odd.
Maybe we like it more than we admit?

I read your blog, would you like a job?

It seems to me there are two ways of looking at employment. The mindset of my parents, 

“If it were fun, it wouldn't be called work,” 

which—though I'm certain in giving me this advice my parents hold my best intentions in mind—is a genuinely awful way to view the world, and contrasts greatly with the second, 

“Do something you love and you'll never have to work a day in your life.”

which I am going to go ahead and agree with, taking the measurable risk of revealing my naive and optimistic nature to all. But seriously...

 There is no need to be miserable 40 hours a week.

Fortunately, finding something to do for that 40 hours in the Vail Valley is easy. An hour ago I opened up the Vail Daily and perused through no fewer 80 job postings, many I am qualified to fill just because I know how to smile and can read, and despite the fact that we are headed into the off season.

Granted, I make no promises about the quality of these jobs. In fact, most are probably awful soul-sucking positions that pay only enough to support an individual from paycheck to paycheck, but they are there, and they are easy to get. Look a little harder (i.e. forget the paper and make some friends…it’s not what you know after all…), and it is possible to find a few real gems: work that doesn't steal your soul, and pays enough money to cover rent, new skiis and Fireball shooters for free outdoor concerts. 

What else do you need? #checkwithmeintenyears

I am certain these gems exist because I was employed in one for the first year I lived here. I worked as a pastry cook and spent most evenings enjoying limited responsibility, minor supervision and completing tasks such as baking cookies, eating crème brulee, and decorating plates with chocolate sauce. I often went home wondering, 

“Am I really getting paid to do this?”

For the hitch-hiking, dumpster diving traveler I was upon arriving in this town, it was a pretty sweet gig.

Unfortunately, in the past two years my enthusiastic attitude has seasoned into “good natured” kitchen bitterness and instead of heading into work early to create new ice-cream flavors, I now put off the clock-in time for as long as possible, even if all I'm doing is lying prone on the locker room floor desperately working up the motivation to put on my chef coat and walk upstairs.

This will not do, I decided. 

I put in my two weeks, at which point I will have plenty of time to research job potential in this town and then post about it on the internets for all you readers (by which I mean, the few friends who actually skim through these entries after they accidentally click on them from my facebook updates).

So you have that to look forward to.

What else am I going to do? Well, follow dreams and stuff writing America's best new cheap paperback novel to sell out of the trunk of my car (actually, I can't afford a car, but just go with the imagery for a moment).

I’ll also be teaching yoga, an equally profitable endeavor.

You're right, Dad, Vail is not the best place to be a starving writer and yoga teacher...

...I know the odds, and don't laugh when you see me pouring your coffee in two months, but I'm going to go ahead and imagine it, some lucrative offer falling into my lap, along with the opening, 

“I read your blog, would you like a job?”