An Exception To Every Rule: Austrians are OBSESSED with Avicii

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.