For the record, my entire time in Austria Levels and Wake Me
Up by Avicii were alternating. It is safe to say the Austrians are obsessed.
Below is the extremely long account
of my trip. For the next 5 Days I will post an installment about the details of
my trip (you get to read about two days today, because the first day was so
incredibly boring it wouldn’t be fair to only post that today…)
So as I sit here writing about my
trip to Sölden
from the Innsbruck airport I am beginning to realize that I am taking a
significant risk, because the trip is not yet over and I could be leaving out
some intensely interesting details. I have made the executive decision that I
will continue to write and will update any actual readers by editing the final
installment of this post. I am not convinced that anybody actually reads my
blog post, unless I specifically tell him or her that I have posted a new one
by tagging him or her in a Facebook post. Well I will not be doing that for
this post, I will post a link on my Facebook but I won’t be tagging anyone. I
guess this will be a good test to see who actually looks at my blog (or
doesn’t).
I guess we
will start with day 1: Day one begins rather boringly. I wake up, study for my
midterm at 11:30. Go to class from 8:30 to 10, and then again from 10:15 to 11.
I then suffer through a grueling international business management exam where I
answer 25 multiple choice questions and write 4 (yes I said 4!) essays in an
hour in 15 minutes. I then sit through the longest feeling class I have ever
encountered (I don’t think it helped that it is a class on how to do and income
tax) from 1:30 to 2:15. I then sprint back to my apartment change into some
suitable travel attire, load the car, drive quickly to get my forgotten long
underwear and outlet converter. Speed to the airport just to get stuck in
traffic 2 miles from the airport, thanks to my handy travel companion Elfred,
my GPS, I took the carpool lane which saved my ass. Check in at the desk and
manage somehow to avoid overweight baggage fees on my 67lb bag. Stand in line
at security just to reach the checkpoint and be reminded that I cannot bring my
water in my Nalgene through so I am forced to chug it while everyone laughs at
me. Solid. While waiting in the airport I try to send an essay that won’t send
creating a large amount of stress for me and quite a spectacle for the other
travelers watching me struggle and curse at my laptop. Sweet. Board the flight
and sit next to a 50 something year old lady with a nice Rolex on one arm and a
Cartier watch on the other (2 watches, I kid you not) and a very nice Hermes Birkin
bag. If this hour-long flight had first class, she would have been sitting in
it. I’m not quite sure why she didn’t have a private plane. She seemed revolted
by my large backpack and ski boots. It didn’t help that the overhead was full
so all my shit had to fit under my seat. De-plane in Toronto and walk through
some very nice art sculptures to a place that sells poutine directly across
from my gate, stuff my face for 5 minutes and board the long flight over the Atlantic.
Much to my surprise, the flight is not full and I get a row to myself. Close my
eyes, day 1 is over. Not riveting, and not exciting in the least. The trip has
begun. Sweet.
Day 2… Land
in Munich. Feel sick. Dehydrated. Whoops. I always underestimate how shitty
long flights make me feel. Chug water. Attempt to communicate with a customs
agent on how to get to my gate. Fail. Walk to the wrong area. Walk back to the
right area. After I go through ticket check area at the gate I go down some
stairs and through a basement corridor that doesn’t look like its for
passengers and onto a bus. Ride on the
bus for a solid 15 minutes across the tarmac passed some sweet massive double
decker planes to a 20-passenger propeller plane. Now, I’m not scared of flying,
but this did unsettle me just a bit. Wait in the bus for another 5 minutes
while some guy gets out of a Porsche cayenne and boards the plane. Get on and
fall right asleep. Wake up as we are flying over a mountain. It looks pretty
close but I think to myself “its probably not really that close” then I see
some sort of antelope and I can make out the ridges on its horns it is so
fucking close! Now I’m seriously freaked out. I can’t stop thinking about that
darn discovery channel show about the world’s most dangerous airports. I’m
fairly certain that Innsbruck was not one of them, but I can only remember that
one with the beach next to it so I’m not quite sure. Luckily sometimes a rough
approach leads to a smooth landing. Deplane. Bus, to train, to Bus all the
while struggling with my massive ski bag. No seats on any of these vehicles.
Arrive in Sölden.
Score! Nap. Bib draw. I’m not quite sure that I can do this bib draw justice.
It will definitely be a test of my subpar writing skills. So picture a small
area about 10,000 square feet filled with people shoulder to shoulder. A ton of
people. Like I mean a ton of freaking people. The bib draw is pure awesomeness.
The announcers are speaking a ton of different languages and everybody is cheering
and drinking. There are cowbells and horns, buzzers and megaphones. Music the
whole time. Dinner after the bib draw. No English. Ordered some meat thing. It
was good. I then proceeded to have one
of the best nights sleep I have had in recent memory.
Please excuse the formatting difficulties, I swear it is trickier than it seems.
Thanks for reading! See you tomorrow!
