Snowboarding? Day 1- Ouch!

It’s Day one of my honeymoon and I awake with my new wife at our luxurious hotel, The Vail Cascade Resort and Spa. We had made a good choice, the place is beautiful. The resort is very large and runs along side of the mountain, surrounded by woods and the stream. This place is first class all the way.

I had tuned my snowboard last night after dinner. I was excited to finally be hitting the slopes and trying out the sport with modern equipment. How hard can it be? I can skateboard on ramps as well as hills. I can boogie board and water ski. Hell, I was one of the first snowboarders and dared to challenge dead mans’ hill in my Brunswick Snurfer. I can do this.

Outside of our door you can hear other guest’s snow gear swishing by as they walk. The plastic waterproof material makes a somewhat annoying Swish sound with every step they take. It seems the hotel is up and ready to hit the slopes. We are not far behind them. I tie up my cool new boots, tuck my long board under my arm, and we are out the door.

Nanci needs to score her rental skis before we leave. Nanci has had some experience skiing, and has chosen to stick with the sure thing rather than brave a new sport as I have done. The hotel has a great pro shop that can accommodate her rentals at a reasonable price. We had done our research the day before. As Nanci finishes her fitting, I sit outside on a bench made from a large tree sawn in half. I’m watching how everyone else manages to get on the ski lift with the snowboard attached to their feet. I hate being the rookie.

The lift that will take us to the top of Vail Mountain is located right along side the pro shop and hotel. We purchase our lift tickets and make our way to the back of the line to snap our boots in our bindings. Nanci is ready to go.

It’s time to jump into the line and get on the lift. I had seen from watching the other snowboarders that you snap your front foot in the binding and leave your back foot to push you along, much like riding a skateboard. It seems easy enough to do, however the width of the snowboard and the fact that my foot is turned 90 degrees to the side makes me look like a retard participating in some new Special Olympic Sport.

Nanci and I manage to get on the chair lift with minimal stress. I was glad to have made it, although I almost pulled my leg off as the snowboard turned sideways on liftoff. We were now riding up the snow covered mountains. Nanci was very nervous about falling off, and looking down I can say that I blame her. We pull a lap bar down over our heads. This thing is worthless, but it seems to help her anxiety.

This chairlift will take us almost all the way to the top of the mountain. Vail is scattered with many lifts that will give you access to the various runs. Since our resort is located on the far side of the mountain, this lift takes us to the far right where we can ski down the main run and towards the middle for more options. I have checked my map and we will take the easy runs at first while we both get used to our chosen equipment. I’m not worried. This is going to be easy.

It’s time to dismount the lift. Luckily I had read how to do this online before our trip. Both Nanci and I slide down the small hill below the chair and come to a stop before the drop off down the main slope. Dozens of people whiz by us while a take a few minutes to lock my back foot into the binding. I’m ready to go.

Let’s go snowboarding. I place my hands behind me and give a mighty shove in order to rise to a standing position. Nanci has already started her way down the slope. Immediately upon my rising the snowboard began to accelerate down the hill. My balance was fine. Everything seemed o.k. I started to gain some speed. I’m going to need to do some turns to control this speed. I start to gently lean on to the edge in the hopes of performing a graceful turn. The board swivels but does not turn. I rapidly gain more speed as I head into the very large clearing and across the main run.

I desperately need to slow down and gain control of this snowboard or else I’m doomed to become a meat rocket plowing down the slope too an inevitable climax upside a white Aspen tree. I lean once again, this time with a little more effort, and nothing happens. Now my board is sideways sliding down the hill. The traction of this device now seems like that of a saucer that simply follows the contours of the hill on some predetermined route designated by gravity. This is bad.

I’ve traveled 50 yards and have gained an incredible amount of speed. I’m facing up the hill, my snowboard is sideways, and I’m traveling down the slope way too fast. Suddenly the back edge grabs the snow and I’m airborne flying backwards about 4 feet in the air. With a mighty thud I land flat on my back. My head smacks the packed snow causing a series of white and black flashes as I bounce down the hill finally coming to a rest. Ouch! What the fuck?

I believe that we all have a little human energy meter inside our bodies. You can see this invisible indicator whenever you watch a boxing match and the loosing boxer takes a wicked upper cut straight to the chin. You can see this indicator drop substantially. This first impact decreased my indicator by 25%, not a good start.

Over the next 2 hours I would become a victim of what I now call “NewSnowboarditis”; the horrible condition that is the direct result of taking the chair lift to the top of the mountain without first learning how to ride a snowboard. I was caught in a horrible vortex of repetitive pain. It was my destiny to travel a maximum of 35 yards, gaining incredible speed while swiveling out of control and finally impacting with the snow in some nightmarish reenactment of a sports bloopers gag reel. Each collision would lower my personal energy meter further and further until I was far into the negative and operating on pure tenacity. Damn it! Where’s the bottom of this fucking mountain?

Nanci had found her ski legs early and was having no problem carving nicely controlled paths down the slope. She would ski in front of me, swishing to a nice stop about 70 yards or so down the hill, a safe distance clear of any possible impact zone, yet in perfect position to the view the carnage that was sure to follow.

Here comes the carnage, and once again I would desperately try to gain control of this evil contraption that was causing parts of my body to hurt that I had never even felt before. Please God, just let me make it down this fucking hill. He didn’t care; he loved every glorious moment of this testament to human ignorance. Later that night God and his arc angles would hit the Tevo of life and replay the day long highlights of my contorted demise down Vail Mountain.

About half way down the mountain I had come to a rest, or shall I say, I cart wheeled to a stop, ironically perched at the beginning of a specially designed advanced run for snowboarders. This run had rails and jumps and looked like it was designed by a video game programmer. As usual, I sat their on my sore ass for several minutes as I tried to regain the oxygen and will power needed to arise and once again plummet unto another flesh pile 30 yards or so down the hill. I was breathing very hard. My ass hurt. I sat there.

Suddenly a snowboarder came sliding to a perfect stop right next to me. He sat down for a minute. He was confident and well learned in the ways of the snowboarding Jedi. With a quick motion he lifted his goggles to the top of his wool hat, looked over at me and said “Great board man! What a great day for snowboarding!” He had obviously not seen my advanced human cart wheel spiral that landed me in this ironic position. Like him, he assumed I was perched in preparation of taking on this advanced run. In fact, I was panicking, trying to figure out how to guide the damn snowboard far away from this run and continue down the catwalk that I was originally on, and make my way towards Nanci and another Kodak crash. I needed some help and this guy was surely an expert.

I swallowed my pride, or perhaps it was a small piece of my liver than had rattled loose. “Hey man, how the fuck do you turn these things?”

He looked at me and smiled. He understood. All snowboarders must pass through this baptism of pain and humiliation that I was experiencing. As a testament to the many people that I would later meet on the slopes, he was cool and friendly and quick to offer assistance.

“Turn your board sideways, and try just riding down on the side edge, practice rocking your weight until you find your balance. It’s all in your toes. Once you find your balance on the edge, you’ll get it.” And with a smile he was off down the run.

I took his advice and managed to slide the rest of the way down Vail Mountain on the back edge of my snowboard. Sure, I crashed many more times, however by the time I made it to the bottom I could actually turn. Well, I could turn sometimes, mostly just to the right.

Nanci and I called it a day and we retreated to a small outside restaurant to lick my wounds and enjoy a nice refreshing beverage. She looked at me with the pitiful eyes of a woman who had seen the horror first hand. She was concerned. “are you o.k.?”

I was o.k., and damn glad to be at the bottom of the hill. I had gained an amazing amount of respect for the snowboarders who make it look so easy. Every muscle, every bone, even my guts hurt. My head had impacted so many times with the snow that the term “headache” didn’t even begin to describe the swollen feeling of my brain. I felt like a soldier back from the war, older, hardened with a million mile stare, more respectful of life.

We retired back to our room and rested before dinner. Nanci’s co-workers had purchased her a day at the famous spa located in our resort. Tomorrow she was going to spend the afternoon soaking in weird oils and getting pampered by the staff. I have another plan.

I WILL SNOWBOARD. I WILL NOT FAIL. I WILL TRY AGAIN. I fell asleep.

Bang! I'm Married.

39 years of the bachelor life and I’m proud to say that my friends have been right all along; I truly am the luckiest man in the whole world. I married Nanci.

The flight into Eagle Colorado was beautiful, watching the terrain pass below the jet confirmed out choice of performing the ceremony high in the Rocky Mountains. Sure, my family would rather swallow molten lava than bless the event, but who give a fuck? Not me, if they won’t back my decision then to hell with them and their shitty attitudes. Nanci looks amazingly happy.

10:45 am, and the plane touches down at the Eagle County Airport. I love the rustic architecture and cabin like exterior of the airport. Man, how do the pilots manage to navigate the mountains? Nanci and I quickly secured the rental car, a small economy number that barely holds the snowboard bag, and we head off to the county courthouse where we will pick up our license for the upcoming ceremony.

Inside the old courthouse the clerk is pleased to take our information and fill out the short paperwork. Fifteen dollars and 30 minutes later Nanci and I head down the winding highway on our way towards Vail Colorado. The plane is simple, find a good spot in the mountains, climb up, and marry ourselves in front of God and whatever hawk might choose to witness.

We stopped at a rest area overlooking a shallow river and wide stretch of mountains. It wasn’t the spot for the ceremony, but a worthy visit for some photos and a chance to catch our breath. The ground is dry and rocky, but the mountains are covered in the white powder that I plan on conquering first thing in the morning. After several silly posses we are off on the final leg of our journey.

We pull off the highway into the town of Vail Colorado. We had made the 45 minute trip without choosing the location. No matter, we still had a couple of hours to kill before check in time. I suggest we drive through the town and maybe a local spot will present itself.

The town of Vail is unbelievably beautiful. The real estate industry is booming and many luxury homes have been built along the hillsides and river. We drive long ways through the town, spotting several possible locations above the homes in the hills. An amazing frozen waterfall stretches for hundreds of yards up the side of the mountain and while it looks like a romantic location the treacherous climb was unanimously unappealing.

At the far end of town the road comes to an abrupt end. The signs show a hiking path covered in several feet of hard packed snow that winds alongside the river and up into the mountains. I suggest that this might be the way to go. Nanci changes into her chosen white sweater. She looks amazing! I grab the video camera and double check the rings in my pocket as we head up the path.

The snow is deep but the path packed hard from heavy use. Ski tracks are everywhere along with some large dog tracks. The trail leads down alongside the river and under the huge bridge that carries the highway towards Denver. I suggest that a nice spot along the river would be nice and we leave the trail and make our way into the ravine. Bad move.

The snow is deep and unpacked. Several times I found myself up to my waist in powder. This doesn’t seem to be a good idea and we cut back up the river in an effort to regain the trail about 200 yards upstream. The river runs along side us and the view is incredible. Water winds through rocks of all sizes, babbling along it’s way through snow covered arches. The journey back to the path takes us longer than we would have liked and snow is now soaking into my leather hiking shoes. The price I paid for them earlier in the year now seems a good buy.

We catch the trail up stream and once our feet hit the packed powder on the wide trail we laugh about our bad decision to leave the trail for the river. The highway is no longer visible, nor the town or any homes. We wind our way up the steep path, short on breath but excited. We know that we are close. Two boys on cross country skis are hauling ass down the path on their way to Vail. They ask us how much further as they race along. It’s peaceful. The sky is rich and blue with only a few white clouds floating far above us. We hike about one half mile further up to the top of the hill that overlooks the whole ravine. I suggest to nanci that this is the place. She agrees.

We married ourselves high atop the Rocky Mountains, deep in the blue sky, witnessed by the wind. I’ll never forget how beautiful Nanci looked as she told me her vows. I am a lucky man, the luckiest man in the world.

The Original Snurfer, or My Day on Dead Mans Hill

It’s Monday morning and I have only 24 hours left as a single man.

It’s weird; I have heard many guys talk about getting nervous or having second thoughts, especially the closer they get to D-Day. I feel fine. I’m completely calm.

Nanci had to go into work today, the kids are in Florida, and I have the house to myself. I’m going to take it easy, pack up my gear for the big trip to Vail, and watch a little TV.

I earlier today I scored a cool new rolling luggage bag to compliment my new snowboard. About a month ago Sports Authority had a huge closeout sale on of their snowboard gear; boots, bindings, boards, and bags. I picked up a Sims Ritual board, 167cm, with K2 bindings, and Sims boots. The grand total was less the $170 for all of it. I couldn’t believe it. For about the same price as renting the gear, I got all new gear that I can use again and again. Now all I need to do is learn how to snowboard. Maybe I should say, I need to learn how to snowboard again.

I was actually one of the first snowboarders. At 39, that might seem pretty odd, but it’s true. When I was a kid living in Barrington Illinois, I found a “Snurfer” in somebody’s garbage while taking my usual walk downtown to Osco for a candy bar. At first I thought that this odd looking device sticking out of a garbage can was a water-ski, it looked exactly like one. It was made by Brunswick and had multicolored brown laminated wood with a white nylon rope fastened to the tip. Little white plastic bumps that reminded me of cleats stuck up from two separate places where you would put your feet. The tail section was gently molded into a slight bow, similar to the hull of a boat, with a 6 inch metal blade creating the contact point at the very bottom. This was a very cool score for a young kid, and even though it wasn’t winter yet, I took it home and put it in the garage, proud of my new oddity.

Several cold months past by and finally the first snow arrived that was deep enough for sledding. I anxiously grabbed my new Snurfer, threw it over my shoulder, and began the long walk for Dead Mans Hill. I think every town has a Dead Mans Hill. Our Dead Mans Hill was about 100 yards long, very steep, with a wicked lip in the middle that made for some seriously dangerous jumps. The whole hill is covered in oak and maple tress, so veering off the narrow cleared path that runs straight down the center can get you killed.

It didn’t take long for all of the kids in the neighborhood to come and check out this odd ski that I was going to brave down Dead Mans Hill. They all thought I was crazy, and looking back, I’m pretty sure they were all right. Of course, I kept my cool and acted the fearless champion daredevil.

After a great deal of show and tell it was time to put my money where my mouth is and ride this new contraption down the narrow snow covered path the laid before me. I would be a hero if I could pull this off, and there was no turning back. I looked down the steep hill with the confidence of an Olympic Ski Jumper. The large group of kids stepped backwards away from me and the hill became deathly quit. A smaller group had gathered about half way down the hill, right at the peak of the natural lip that would surely launch me and my Snurfer skyward. Everything was in place, it was time.

I wrapped the white nylon cord that attached to the tip of the Snurfer around my wrist like a professional bull rider. There was no way it was going to get loose. I dropped the board to the ground and put my left foot on the forward area of white plastic cleats that rose up from the wood. I slid the board back and forth a couple of times to see how fast it would glide. It had no friction. This was going to be a very fast ride. I knew the minute that I lifted my right foot to the back of the board that gravity and the incredibly steep slope would take effect and my quick descent would begin. I took a deep breath and bent my knees. I held my right arm behind me, raising my hand as if to give the signal that I’m ready. I lifted my right foot to the board and instantly began to accelerate to an amazing speed. I barely managed to place it on the back cleats. I was off.

The wind rushed by my ears. I pulled the nylon rope tighter and bent my knees to an almost crouching position. The trees were blurry as they whizzed by on either side of me. I could barely hear the cheers of my friends as the board skimmed across the top of the snow faster and faster. My eyes began to focus through the tunnel vision on the upcoming jump. This is way too fast. O my god. Stay calm. My balance was perfect. The board was amazingly fast. My speed kept increasing faster and faster. Jesus. Here comes the jump. Get ready.

I’ll never really know how fast I was going when my board hit the jump that day. Over the next few years my friends would compare the great launch to a rocket ship blasting off into warp speed. To me, time stood still. It was as if God had hit the slow motion button so that he could enjoy every sadistic microsecond of this amazing event.

The short ramp of the jump went by in a blink, and with it the slicing sound of the snow under my board had disappeared into an eerie howl of wind as I took to the air. The ground seemed to simply fall away as I continued my ascent. Higher and higher I rose, climbing further into the tree tops and farther away from the descending slope of the hill far below me. My eyes grew wider. The howling slowed. I was reaching the peak of my incredible trajectory and I knew that descent was immanent.

You see, the Snurfer was an amazing invention oozing with potential that would soon come to be realized by thousands of avid snowboarders over the next 30 years; however it was not without a few minor design flaws that had suddenly become very apparent to me. It’s true, that while the little white plastic cleats that my shoes rested on would surely allow me traction for turning while on the hill, there was nothing to secure my feet to the board while airborne.

The death grip that my left hand had on the nylon rope was now pulling the nose of the board towards me and well away from back foot. My inexperience with weightlessness combined with the fact that my muscles were now petrified with fear was beginning to take its toll. Both feet were now well off the board. I began to descend at an alarming rate.

Again the wind rushed by my ears as I continued on the downward slope of my arc. I was dangerously high and there was nothing I could do about it now. My body was frozen in the same crouched position it had acquired before lift off. The rope was still in my hand, but I had no idea how far away my feet were from the one thing that might allow me to survive the impending impact that was quickly approaching. My eyes were wide with fear. My mouth opened but nothing came out. The ground was now racing towards me. There was nothing to do but wait for the impact.

It’s amazing how fast the brain can think when you’re in a state of extreme panic. Within the smallest fraction of an instant, 100’s of harsh impact scenarios were running through my distressed mind. I envisioned sharp broken bones penetrating through my violently ripped skin whilst my body cart wheeled end over end. What have I done? I don’t want to die. This is it. O god.

All though I could not see it, the very end of the tail of the Snurfer would be the first to hit the snow, scraping along like the angle of a large jet liner on touchdown. A split second later, and with a mighty thwacking sound my rear foot and then front foot squashed the remainder of the board unto the snow. My left hand was still holding the white nylon rope in a panicked death grip. My body frozen in the exact position I had assumed well before the launch with my right arm flying behind me like a cowboy in a rodeo. I was back on the snow, and with a mighty Fwwwish I was once again racing down the remainder of the hill.

I was going too fast and would soon run out of hill. My flight had caused me to gain an incredible amount of speed and I had never even thought to learn how to turn, much less stop. I held fast as I blurred unto the flat area at the bottom of the hill. There was no way I was going to stop in time before I would cross the street that was in front of me.

The road had been plowed the night before, and a slight pile of snow lined both sides of the street. In an instant my board and I were airborne as we lifted off the slight bank of snow. I quickly landed on the hard asphalt and slowly my board began to rotate counterclockwise. I had no traction on this surface. I was loosing my balance. I slid across the street sideways. Damn. Damn. I was too paniced to even look for the cars, not that it would have done any good.

The board and I grinded our way across the two lane road and crashed into the other snow bank. Smack! I flew up in the air, twirling and twisting from the harsh impact. Everything was blurry. I could see the world spinning around as I whirled about in the air. I abruptly stopped. Suddenly it was quite.

I remained motionless. Everything was dark. I knew that I had landed somewhere in the Church parking lot that was directly across the street from Dead Mans Hill. Why is it so dark? I waited for a rush of pain or even perhaps the warm dripping sensation of fresh blood. It never came. I sat up and wiped the snow that had caked up in my eyes. I was staring back up at the hill, the nylon rope still clenched in my hand.

Hooray! Hooray! That was so cool! My friends were all yelling and screaming as they ran towards me, their arms flailing about in the air. I rose to my feet and did a quick scan to check for broken bones. I was o.k., I had made it. I raised my arms in genuine triumph. I was a king. My Snurfer was still dangling from the end of the rope, in tact. She had made it, we both had made it. I held the board above my head with both arms and gave a mighty yell! Yes. Yes. Yes. That was excellent.

My friends all gathered around me in their multi-colored snow gear, yelling and screaming, patting me on the back, admiring the board in my hands as if it had mystical powers. They began to give me their extremely exaggerated perspectives on the mighty event. I held my head high and stared back up the hill. I had done it.

My friends would never know that it was pure fear that held my body in that cool tucked positions while in the air. To them it was pure poetry, natural skill and bravado. Who was I to deny them? My god that was cool. Let’s do it again.

Don't Tell Mom Your Getting Married until After You've Eaten

Dinner didn’t go as planned. Why should it? Nothing ever goes as planned.

Note to self: stop planning.

Mom offered to take my daughters and I out to a local Italian joint for dinner. It’s nothing fancy just great food.

We were all starving after a great day of shopping at the mall. I bought both girls new shirts and let them go crazy shopping. Teens, there not hard to please if you have cash.

I wasn’t feeling very well. Walking around downtown Chicago last Wednesday landed me a monster head cold. I’m tuff, I can take it. Teens and a head cold, the joys of parenthood.

We drove to Angelino’s on US19 in Palm Harbor Florida. Great food at reasonable prices. I was excited about the Chicken Pasta. After a short wait we were seated in the middle of the room.

The girls were excited. Shopping had given them an appetite and they were ready to dig in. We ordered our food and the salads soon followed.

I was wondering when would be the best time to break the big news. In my head the speech was twirling around. The best way to do this was to just come out and say it. I figured the best time would be during the main course.

Our waitress laid down our plates overflowing with piping hot Italian food. It smelled delicious and even though I wasn’t feeling well I knew that I could do some real damage. We started to dig in.

Now’s the time. I’m going to do it.

I looked across the table at my youngest daughter. My mom was sitting next to me, Cassi across from her. I was cutting into my chicken while talking. I had that “a matter of fact” tone.

“I have some big news”, I said.

Cassandra got a nasty look. She’s obviously not pleased about his marriage and she’s been waiting to see how my Mom will lay into me. This is the moment she’s been waiting for.

“It’s good news. Tuesday, I’m getting married”.

Silence.

My mom throws her fork into her plate as if it became white hot. The drama had begun. She was offended and she wanted the whole resteraunt to know about.

I continued eating. Cassi was smiling. My youngest was surprised but happy.

My mom starred forward as if possessed. “How long have you know about this?” she said.

“How long have I known about this?” I replied. “What? Why does that matter? I guess since I proposed.”

This was her first reaction. Nothing was logical about it, but then again, logic and my mother are rarely used in the same sentence. I guess that she was hoping to add deceit into my list of sins.

She continued to stare off. Her food sat in front of her untouched. My daughters continued to eat through the very awkward silence.

I was embarrassed. My youngest daughter was obviously uncomfortable with my moms reaction. Cassi was thrilled; this was going even better than she had hoped.

A very long period of silence went by.

“I was hoping you were going to be happy for me. I guess that’s not going to happen. What’s the problem?” I offered.

“It’s only the biggest moment of my life” she said with conviction. “My sons getting married and I’m not invited”

Cue violins.

“Nobody is invited mom. Just Nanci and I are going to be there. Cassi didn’t want to be there anyways.”

Cassi nodded her head in agreement, still thrilled with the wrath that her Nana was unveiling upon her father.

“Is it legal?” she said while still staring off into outerspace.

“yes mom, it’s very legal. In Colorado you can do it yourself, and that’s what we are doing. I was hoping you were going to be happy for me, but I guess I was hoping for to much.”

I had to throw some guilt back at her, even though it had no effect.

“I can’t figure out why you’re so surprised. I assumed Cassi would have already told you.” I called her bluff.

“Well she did, but you know” was her answer.

Another very long silence as we finished our dinner.

“Why aren’t you eating?” I asked

“I’m not hungry” her final words of the night.

The check came and I decided that I was buying dinner. Considering that I had obviously ruined it, it seemed the right thing to do.

It was a long uncomfortable ride home. Mom didn’t say a word for the rest of the night. I joined my daughters for videos in their bedroom before leaving to hook up with some friends.

Moral of the story. Don’t tell Mom you’re getting married until after the desert is finished.

Tonight I fly back to Chicago to be with Nanci. I’ll miss my daughters, but I’m glad to be leaving. Tuesday we fly to Vail to be married. I’m glad we didn’t invite my family.

Um, Mom, I'm getting married.

I’m in Florida, wow, it’s nice to be in the warm air again. Chicago winters are brutal.

We picked up my youngest daughter and drove up to Palm Harbor. My daughters don’t look like little green beans anymore; somehow they grew up when I wasn’t looking. Before me are two beautiful young women.

Que Dr. Smith “O, the pain!”

The big dinner is tonight. Mom has offered to take us all out for Italian. Somewhere between the salad and the pasta I’ll inform my mom and my youngest daughter about my eloping to Colorado. I’m positive that Cassi has already told my mom about what’s going on, so this shouldn’t be a surprise.

I’m excited about getting married, but nervous about telling my mom. I’m sure that my youngest daughter will be cool with the idea, she’s a great kid, but mom, well, that’s a different story. Just like a bad soap opera, my mom is full of needless drama.

This should be fun.

You would think that your parents should be excited about things. I mean, I waited 39 years to ask a girl to marry me; I’m not exactly rushing into anything here.

The problem is going to be the fact that Nanci and I aren’t having a traditional wedding. We aren’t inviting anybody. We can’t afford it, even if we wanted to. This is just for us, the way it should be. I’m afraid that my mom is going to be offended.

The idea is that Nanci and I will fly into Eagle Colorado. We’ll pick up our marriage license and then drive to Vail Colorado. Somewhere in the mountains between eagle and Vail we will marry ourselves.

In Colorado, you do not need a justice of the peace, priest, or even witnesses. You can do the whole thing yourself, and that sounds like a great idea to us. We aren’t exactly loaded since we moved here, so money is tight and a big wedding is simply out of the question. With this method, Nanci and I can have a romantic wedding and still afford a whopping 3 day honeymoon skiing in Vail.

Sure, the family will miss the Chicken dance and Nanci and I will by short a couple of bread makers, but this is OUR wedding. Isn’t it?

Let’s see how the family takes it.

I'm off to Florida

It’s Friday, March 18th. I’ve been officially engaged for two days now. Odd, I don’t really feel different.

This is going to be a big weekend. I will be telling my mom that I am eloping with fiancé’ to Colorado to get married. O, she’ll love this.

Today, I fly with my daughter Cassi and my fiancé’s son Rylan into St. Petersburg/Clearwater airport. Rylan’s dad is driving up from SW Florida to pick him up for Spring Break. Cassi, the teenage popularity queen, will be spending Spring Break with my mom who lives in Palm Harbor.

Cassi considers my mom her mom, and for good reason. My mom has been the female figure for most of her life. Girlfriends have come and gone and “nana” has always been there. Problem is, that this situation has caused nothing but problems for my girlfriends. Cassi refuses to be close to them, and most of the time resorts to being rude and offensive to them. The joys of parenthood.

The plan is simple. I’ll drop off Rylan with his dad. I’ll drive my mom and Cassi to St. Petersburg where we will pick up my youngest daughter Alyssa. I haven’t had a chance to see Alyssa since I moved to Chicago, so I’m really looking forward seeing her. I miss her terribly.

I plan on taking the family to dinner, where I will break the news to my mom. Knowing full well that Cassi has already informed my mom of this horrible event, I don’t expect her to be surprised.

This promises to be an interesting weekend.

I'm Officially Engaged!

Well I did it. I’m officially engaged, which is a good thing, considering I’m getting married next Tuesday.

As with most of the plans in my life, yesterday’s big proposal plans fell apart. I’m engaged, but it wasn’t easy. Here’s what happened.

Wednesday morning, it’s freezing cold outside, overcast and grey, with a heavy wind blowing and even some light rain. I was dressed to the nines. I had on my best black leather dress shoes, black tux pants, a white starched shirt with red paisley tie. My Italian black leather suite coat type jacket completed the formal attire. Yes man, I looked like a million bucks as I headed out the door to catch the 10:15 train from Barrington to Downtown Chicago.

Just moments out the door I realized this was going to be a very cold long day. It’s too late to turn back; the train wouldn’t wait for me to change clothes. I had to keep going; it’s a 10 minute walk to the local station and I hadn’t a minute to loose. I pat myself down to make sure I have everything I need and begin the brisk walk to the station.

The old Chicago North Western METRA train would arrive right on-time. I had purchased my round trip tickets with the PayPal debit card inside the Barrington Station. It was my first test of the card, and I was pleased that the transaction went through, a good sign. I quickly climbed on the train and grabbed a single window seat upstairs.

The train car is almost empty. A mother sitting downstairs is talking to her young son about the museum that they are going to visit later. He seems more interested in looking out the green tinted window at the blurry landscape screaming by. I remember riding with my mom downtown to have lunch at Marshall Fields under the big Christmas tree.

I notice that the train always smells the same, like a cross between old newspaper and stale air. I like that weird smell, it reminds me of summer break in high school when I would take the same train downtown for my job at the Board of Trade. How can it smell the same after all these years? It even looks the same. I’m on my way.

The hour long train ride downtown seems to fly by. I must admit to being a little nervous carrying around a $10,000 loose diamond in my shirt pocket. I frequently take it out and unfolded the small white paper envelope that protects the stone. It’s odd to me that diamond dealers fold the diamonds up in paper the exact same way that cocaine dealers used to do it back in the 80’s and 90’s. I guess there both a little shadier than either would care to admit.

The stone looks great; the light bounces off it like crazy as it rolls around in the palm of my hand. I wonder what someone would think if they saw this dressed up guy in a black leather jacket hunched over looking at diamonds. I felt cool, like a big money gangster with a shady deal. All I needed was a chrome plated 9mm to complete the fantasy.

The train arrives in downtown Chicago. Its 11:25 and I’m going to need to hurry if I’m going to stay on schedule. I step off the train and begin the fast walk through the dark noisy terminal. Even though the train stops inside of a partially enclosed area, I could feel the cold wind ripping through the station. The station reeks of diesel fuel and cigarettes. It was going to be a very cold day. I began the long walk from the train station to Jewelers Row and my meeting with Michael the Asian jeweler who would be mounting Nanci’s stone in the new setting. I hope everything goes o.k. I’m nervous.

They call Chicago the Windy City, and for damn good reason, the wind feels like it could rip the skin right off of your face. My leather suit coat jacket keeps blowing open and I constantly put my hand over my shirt pocket to make sure that the little white piece of paper with the expensive stone is still in place. I hope I’m not being too obvious. Damn it’s cold. What a gloomy day for a proposal.

I arrived at Jewelers Row which is directly under the elevated train tracks, and quickly hunt down the correct address. I open the generic glass door and enter into a large store filled with many display cases and dozens of eager eyes hoping to catch my glance. Fresh meat.

This place is like a Chinese mini mall, with many jewelers renting a small area to display their wares all under the same roof. With a little apprehension I ask the well dressed Indian lady in the first booth for Michael. She points her dark boney finger down the isle and doesn’t say a word. She resembled the grim reaper with a jewelry fetish. Her extended fingernail was grotesquely long with some crazy swirling multi-colored design that I couldn’t make out. Several cheesy gold rings were still rattling against each other, held secure by the size of her large knuckle. I managed a polite smile, ducked under the finger and headed down the isle.

The isle is long and on my way I periodically look into the many display cases. Desperate little shop owners all try to get my attention and the hopeful sale. I’m reminded of the flea markets in Florida. All I need is a corn dog.

Michael’s booth is in the far back of the store on the left. He has a very small display case alongside of his large wooden work bench, a cash register, and plenty of tools and machines all along the back wall. It’s extremely dirty behind the counter with odds and ends lying all over the place. This booth has the look of a work shop that has been so busy that nobody has had time to clean it, ever.

Michael looks up from his wooden work bench that is surrounded by a plexiglass shield and introduces himself to me. He can’t weigh 90lbs, with short black hair, cheap grey dress slacks and a light blue short sleeve generic work shirt that looks like it was purchased off the sale rack at K-Mart. The palms of his hands are completely black and stained from his work. Out of habit I offer to shake his hand, he offers instead the cool knuckle pound. I think I’m nervous again.

Michael is quick to smile and remembers me from our phone conversation. He turns around and begins to frantically rummage through the many tiny manila envelopes lying between the metal working machines on the back wall. Michael is one of those people that move very quickly, always with a purpose, as if time is running out on his day and he has too much work still to do. I can’t help but feel that I might have made a mistake. Michael finds the correct envelope and empties the white gold ring into the palm of his dirty hand, proudly showing it to me for approval. All I can see is his dirty black hands.

I remove my white envelope containing the diamond from my shirt pocket and hand it to Michael. He quickly empties the stone into his blackened hand while using his other hand to set it in the mount for a quick look. He’s obviously impressed with the stone and comments on how nice it will look. Without blinking an eye, he quickly sits back down at his wooden work bench and begins to modify the ring to fit the stone.

It doesn’t take me long to realize that Michael knows exactly what he is doing. He works quickly, but very carefully, and shows great skill when it comes to his trade. After a ½ an hour of grinding, hammering, polishing and pulling, he tries the finished ring out next to the wedding band, to make sure it fits. Nanci had picked a “sleeve” type wedding band that the engagement ring will fit inside. It’s important that they fit correctly, and Michael makes several small adjustments in order to get it perfect.

I’m soon presented with the finished product, and it looks fantastic. It’s clear that I got a great deal, the ring is very impressive. Michael suggests that I examine the ring with the Jewelers Loop, a small magnifying glass that is held close the eye. After months of looking at dozens of diamonds I’ve become an expert with the loop and feel quit comfortable in its use. I know what to look for. I quickly put the device to my eye and closely examine Michael’s keen craftsmanship under the florescent light on his counter. He comments “I can see by how you use the Loop that you know what you are doing. Good, I can tell you will appreciate my work.” He’s correct, his work is flawless, and I’m impressed. The diamond looks huge in the setting; Nanci is going to love it.

My first impression of Michael was all wrong; he’s a true artist and businessman with great skill. He finished up the project by cleaning the ring in various vats of liquid then blowing it under high pressure air. I felt a little a paranoid watching the ring get banged and dipped, and then finally inserted under the high pressure air. Wouldn’t this blow the stone clear off? Are you supposed to be so ruff with jewelry? Man, it looks great.

I have no problem pulling the mighty PayPal debit card once again from my wallet to pay his more than reasonable fee. This same job would have cost me 3 times as much anywhere else, and I doubt they would have done as good of a job. With a quick signature and a hardy thank you, we do the cool knuckle pound once again and I’m on my way out of the store and into the dreary cold Chicago streets. It’s time to find a horse drawn carriage.

As I’m walking down the sidewalk I take a quick mental check. I still have enough left on the card for the roses, as well as, the horse drawn carriage ride. If I play my cards right, I should still have a tiny bit left for Nanci’s wedding present. It’s going to be close.

Having a finished engagement ring in my pocket felt empowering. I felt like a man on a mission. I seemed to be more important. I held my head very high. I walked very fast. A huge grin came across my face as though I knew something that nobody else knew. I couldn’t wait to give Nanci this ring; she’ll love it.

I had tried to call and reserve one of the beautiful carriages that roam the Chicago streets, but not a single one of the companies answered their phone. Their websites pointed me to various street locations where they could be found, so my goal was to walk to the locations and hopefully score a good one to take to Nanci’s work. It’s Wednesday, how hard could it be?

After 3 tries and still no carriage I finally asked a large black Chicago Police officer where I might find a horse drawn carriage. He said that the best place was on the other side of the river, about a mile away. My feet were already sore from walking so fast in my dress shoes. I was on a mission, I must press on.

I crossed the pungent green Chicago River and arrived at my destination. The officer was correct; there were plenty of horse drawn carriages in the area. The problem was that they were all taken.

For an hour I tried to score a free carriage without luck. Time was running out. It was already too late for a lunch date with Nanci, now I was just trying to get anything. Finally a beautiful white carriage stopped. It was perfect! I ran to the man dressed in some bazaar 1800’s outfit with a white top hat and tails. Unfortunately this ride was already booked, but he could call their other carriage and have me hooked up with a ride in 10 minutes. GREAT! Make it happen.

I’m excited. This is going to work out. I’ll call Nanci while I’m on my way in the carriage. Its’ going to be o.k. Man, am I good.

10 minutes later, here comes the carriage. O NO! A large black horse, driven by a man who looked like a chimney sweep, was pulling a large jet black wooden carriage. This thing looked a hearse from 1776. The carriage was faded and the paint was pealing off. Bring out your dead, bring out yer dead. The horse was old and bored with a large black feather plume towering from the top of his head like some goolish equestrian vegas showgirl. I stood there frozen. The horse looked at me with its large black eye as if to say, “Dude, don’t do it.”

I wanted Cinderella’s Carriage, not some vehicle that delivered plague victims to their final resting place.

Now what do I do?

A look at my watch and I realized my plans were falling apart fast. I need to be like a Marine, I need to improvise. A cab, I need a cab. I’ll take a cab to her work, and I’ll invite her to launch. I can still pull this off. It will still be surprise, just not very romantic. I’ll take her to a romantic lunch. It will be o.k. Wait, its’ way past lunch. Screw it, I’ll ask her anyways.

The cab ride takes a while and I realize that I have walked a very long way and wasted more time than I had planned. I had less than an hour to find Nanci, propose, and catch the train home in time to pick up the kids from daycare. I can do it. It will be o.k.

The cab drops me off outside of 311 S. Wacker. I had forgotten to call her; my brain is racing to fast. I have to think.

I call her on my cell phone. “Hi, where are you?” she says. She can hear the traffic in the background. She must know something is up. My brain is racing. I need to be slick.

“I’m waiting for you”

“at home?”

“naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa,” I said in some weird tone like a 5 year old on steroids.

She could tell something was wrong here. I could hear it in her voice. She knew something was up. I was acting weird. Why am I talking like this? I’m screwed.

“Where are you?”

“I’m downtown, wanna go for lunch?”

“What?, O, I can’t, I have to do a showing. Lunch was 2 hours ago. What are you doing downtown?”

I was busted. She knew I was downtown for some reason, most likely to propose. She had to show some property to a client and there was nothing I could do about it. My plans were falling apart fast. This was my last chance.

“Well, can’t you meet me for coffee or something?”

“Maybe I can after the showing. It will take me about a ½ an hour. Do you want to meet me at Starbucks?”

“Yeah, o.k. That works”.

So, I got my chance. I decided that since I had time to kill that I could run across the street to the Sears Tower and pick up a dozen roses. I might not have the carriage, but I can still make this happen.

With a dozen roses in hand, I sit just outside the Starbucks inside her office building. There are several black metal coffee tables outside that look out the huge glass windows and over a small stretch of lawn. I never felt so awkward in all my life. In my head I was running through all the ways that I could do this and still come across as romantic. Nothing was coming to mind. My foot was tapping at high speed on the tile floor. I kept looking to see if she was coming.

Nanci came walking around the corner. She was wearing a long winter coat, her blond hair was just a little windblown and I could see a huge smile on her face even though she was still a good distance away. I stood up and smiled.

I’m not a guy who runs out of things to say, but I was speechless. She approached and I gave her a hello kiss. What a great smile. I handed her the box of roses.

“What are you doing here?’ she said as she took the box of roses.

She knows. She has to know. I’m busted. What should I say? I sit back down and my brain races. Cover your tracks; you can still pull this off.

“The diamond arrived, so I came down to try and get a setting.”

“You look nice” she said, still smiling and admiring the beautiful roses.

I’ll play it cool.

“O, thanks. Well, you know. I’m trying to play the part with these dealers. How was your showing?”.

My face is flushing. I can feel the blood rushing to my face. She can tell, she has to be able to tell. I’m not doing very well. This is not very convincing. Should I propose here? Should I just drop down on my knee and do it? I think she answered me, but I have no idea what she said.

“Do you want to go sit downstairs by the waterfall?” I suggested.

This building has a beautiful waterfall that rises for several stories up in the middle of the large glass lobby. It’s really something to see, and the most romantic place that I could come up with to propose on such short notice.

We make our way down the escalator to the downstairs seating. Several employees are taking a break a few tables away. There is no way I can propose with them so close. I need to keep stalling. The sound of the water rushing down into the pool is very loud. The seating area has several tables and trees along with a small restaurant that is completely empty. Nanci and I sit facing each other. There is nothing in between us. I keep stalling; meanwhile my hand is fumbling in my pocket getting the engagement ring. I manage to slip it on to the tip of my little finger. This will make it easy when its’ time.

Nanci is excited to see me, and she’s buying the shopping for a ring story. I’m sure she can tell that something is wrong, I’m acting weird.

“Did you get a setting?” she asked

“Well, I’m looking hard, but you know how it is”

I’m not even thinking about what I’m saying. I’m feeling flush. In my head is a little director holding a clip board giving me the stretch signal.

The group of employees that were sitting near us has finished their break. They stand up and walk away. The place is empty. NOW! Do it now!

In a fluid movement I slide my butt of the metal seat and quickly down on to one knee. I’m already holding her hand. She turns bright red, almost panicked. Its’ too late to turn back now.

“Nanci Evron, I love you more than anything in this whole world. Will you marry me?”.

I produce the ring and with magician like accuracy remove it from my pinky and hold it with my index finger. It sparkles like crazy under the fluorescent lights. Wait, did she answer me? I’m still on my knees. What do I do now?

We start to kiss. We’re giggling like school kids. This is great! She’s very happy. Wow, her face is red. I’m sure mine is too.

“aren’t you going to put it on my finger?” she says with the sweetest smile.

I start to put the ring on her finger. It fits perfectly. Wow, the stone looks big.

“Don’t you have to say yes first?”

“I did say yes. Didn’t you hear me?”.

Truthfully, it’s all a blur. She said yes and we laughed and kissed as I told her about my whole day. I’m not sure about everything we said, my brain was mush. I know that I had a whole speech that I was going to say when I proposed, but when I opened my mouth, only the one short sentence came out. It was a good sentence though.

Nanci had to get back to work and I walked her upstairs to her escalator. I took a couple of pictures of us with my camera phone. She looked so happy and beautiful. I couldn’t help but feel that I was the luckiest man in the world.

What a great day! The best.

.
.
.

Today is a good day to propose.

Today is the day to propose.
Panic sets in.

Good news. My PayPal debit card arrived today. I had sold tons of my old music gear on ebay without Nanci knowing. The profit is sitting in my PayPal account. This debit card will allow me to buy the white gold setting that she is hoping for, all without her knowing it. I figure that I have enough to buy the setting, mount the diamond, size it, and still have a couple of hundred bucks left over for a wedding present.

Now that I have some coin to work with, the game is on.

Since my cash is very limited, I know I have to find a good deal on this setting. I had done an amazing amount of research while I was pricing the diamond and found that the best way, and the most cost effective way to get the setting was to go to an independent jewelry downtown on jewelers row in Chicago.

I just made some calls, and found a small jeweler who can do this for me. The game is on. I have a plan.

Here’s the deal. I’ll get dressed up in my best clothes, nice pants, work shirt, tie, the whole nine yards. With Debit Card in hand, and a 1.5 carat princess cut diamond in my pocket, I’ll take the train downtown to Jewelers row.

I’m to meet with the jeweler at 10:30 am. He figures it will take about an hour to do the setting. I’ve tried to call some horse and carriage companies to rent one to propose to Nanci in, but nobody is answering the phone. I’ll pick one up on the street, they are not hard to find.

The plan.
Ring in hand, I’ll take the carriage to Nanci’s work. I’ll call her to meet me for lunch, and when she comes downstairs I’ll have a dozen roses, carriage, and a ring.

I know that as soon as she hears I’m downtown she’ll be suspecting the proposal. Since she knows where getting married on Tuesday March 22nd, she must know it’s coming soon. This is not going to be an easy surprise.

Wish me luck.
I’m out the door.

How to propose?

I told Nanci that the diamond I had ordered hadn’t arrived yet, however it arrived earlier last week. This is my lame attempt at surprising her with the “official” on my knees, ring in hand, proposal. You see, when we first met, she told me that her only requirement was that she be surprised when I proposed.

Of course, this sent my mind reeling, coming up with crazy ways to propose. Shall I hide the ring in food? Shall I hire a sky writer? One night while watching her favorite TV show, “Friends”, the episode came on where Feebies boyfriend was trying all these same crazy ways to propose. He was failing. Nanci commented to me that I should never try to do any lame ideas like that. Great.

All I know is that I only have until Friday to get the stone mounted, ring sized, and do the official proposal, before I fly out on Friday night to drop the kids off in Florida.

I'm Getting Married!

Holy Shit! I’m getting married!
On March 22nd, my saint like girlfriend Nanci and I will be flying into Eagle Colorado to get married. I’m really looking forward to it. The cool part is that in Colorado you do not need a justice of the peace, priest, or notary, to get married. You can do the ceremony yourselves, without witnesses. How can you beat that?
Rather than put on some ridiculous show for our families and dress ourselves up in bunch of ugly rental tuxedo’s that I would never wear anyways, we have decided to do this on our own, for ourselves. I’m sure Ma Narley will be pleased! Not!
The plan is to find a good spot high up in the Rockies and tie the not. I love Colorado and especially the Rocky Mountains. We couldn’t have picked a better place to do this.
Wish me luck, after 39 years of being single I have finally surrendered to family life.
Was that the earth just shifting on its axis?

Motley Crue - Tour Dates and Pre-Sale Ticket Information

Motley Crue "The Loudest Show on Earth" presents the Carnival of Sin Tour.
Word has it that the Crue is putting on one hell of a show. Personally, I'm damn glad that they are back together and playing out again. How about it? The Crue back on stage. It's been way to long. If you're like me, and would love to see The Crue, I can help you score advance tickets. Simply click below for Tour Dates and links to buy Pre-Sale Tickets. It will even show the password for the week.

Motley Crue Pre-Sale
This weeks Password: 22Sins