NYE - the details.

So clearly, the entertaining/embarrassing anecdotes of the weekend have already come out, but I feel like there are other circumstances that deserve to be documented from this past holiday break... 

All in all the cabin trip made me feel significantly more competent at life, and somewhat more relaxed. But that was not without challenge or doubt.  As with most cabin runs, up to the time when the last boat leaves, it's difficult to know if you are going to end up with 14 people or 2.  it's far, the trip never sounds appealing, it's hard for people to give up multiple nights, dogs get sick, dates get planned.. about a gazillion obstacles always pop up and prevent folks from joining in on the reindeer fun, which usually means if you invite 3x the people you want to come, you end up with about the right number.  Every once in a while the stars align, and you end up with exactly 3x more people than beds and a hot tub that can't accommodate another pale, drunk body. 

This was not the case.  This trip ended up being, me, The Boy, and McCloud.  3. tres.

No problem! we make our own parties all the time! So we haggle our way through holiday traffic (and the rain) through the ferry terminal (and the rain), through the island passages (and the rain) to make it to Friday Harbor (oh... and the rain). 

With luck, the boat starts right up (not always the case) and we begin our trek to the detached island where our crumbling, weird, but totally amazing cabin is perched on top of some rocks. Right at the point when we decided that a "faster and colder" boat ride is better than a "slower and wetter"  trip, the engine chuggs softly and dies. 

Fab. no gas.

We coax the engine back to the gas dock, where The Boy jogs around the marina for however long it took my jacket to soak through in order to find someone to run the gas pump.  Upon arrival at the cabin (and dock that we saved just a few weeks back), it becomes apparent that the dock is still somewhat (mostly) under water and not ideal for walking on in cute new ruffly gray flats (oops, should have changed).  Oh well.  To avoid the sunken dock (I ask why we even have a dock if it requires you to get wet) we have to nose the boat up to the ramp, scramble OVER the boat railing then scamper OVER the ramp railing to disembark.  It becomes instantly obvious to me that I am a) no longer flexible and b) no longer fearless, as I had to spend about 5 minutes attempting new and different approaches to this climb/leap/scamper process before I felt like I found something that reduced the likelihood of me ending up like a sad, wet cat to less than 30%. 

It then took another slow climb up the stairs/rocks/decking as they have all sprouted another healthy layer of moss/slime that makes even sure footed people slide around like drunk figure skaters... not good.  especially not when I'm carrying a VERY unhappy, wet and remarkably heavy french bulldog.  (note to self, get cute carrying case and force other people to lug me around during travel..)

We thought that we had succeeded when we finally got into the house, turned on the heat, turned up the stereo and poured some sturdy glasses of scotch.  Not the case. 

The Boy (heroically) jogged up the hill to the water main where he bagan the process of turning the water on.  My agenda at this point? Fill up hot tub, start hot tub heater, make grocery list, go to town, get burger, get drunk, get breakfast supplies, come back, drink more scotch, get in hot tub, (HAPPY NEW YEAR!) and get in bed.

Just about the time I'm smiling to myself and visualizing how lovely and wonderful this NYE is going to be, The Boy bursts through the ktichen door and annouces that "we have a problem."  Now, as far as I can tell, neither McCloud or I have ANY problems at this juncture. scotch? check. heat? check. indie rock music? check.. cute dog doing funny things? yup! no problems here!

"A pipe's burst"

oh now that IS a problem.  Not because I plan on running water for taking a shower any time soon, but the hot tub is most enjoyable when filled. with water.
that's running.
crap.

I won't bore you with the details of our attempted repair, but instead tell you that, as it turns out you don't need fancy pipe repair kits, you just need some weird powder/putty from the 1950's called Durhams that touts itself as "indispensable to woodworkers, decorators, designers, housewives, electricians and plumbers."

Weird, I know, but its all we had and it (mostly) worked.  Definitely not sure what's in it that's now considered toxic, but sometimes it's best not to know these things.

Also, I will also note that the "balance ball inspired technology" on the bottom of my aforementioned "get a better ass shoes" is definitely NOT helpful on slippery stairs or rocky, muddy ground under the house.  (my second terrible footwear choice of the day..)

BUT after a struggle, we had the broken pipe down to a slow drip and the hot tub was full.  Considering this a success we returned to town to gather food supplies and eat a burger.  By the time we got groceries (better than ranch and more scotch included), we walked straighrt to the Ale House where we received possibly the worst customer service known to man.  We walk in, SOAKED to the bone, tired, exhausted and lacking the positive effect of succeeding in sprite of the gas/dock/pipe situation - when our waitress takes one look at the beer in The Boy's hand, and in her best terrible-teen-movie-bitch voice is like "awww, gee, we can't allow outside liquor in here!" 

I'm pretty sure the three of us stood there, just inside the door (dripping), stone still and silently stared, waiting for the (almost certain) follow-up of "but i'll jsut stash that behind the counter and we'll pretend no one sees it!"

Instead we heard "yeah.. gosh if the state liquor board walks in, we'd be in super big trouble!" (I almost hit her).  I mean REALLY. the state liquor board?! we're on a TINY island. which would require a VERY long and VERY wet boat ride to get to, on NEW YEARS EVE, in a TINY town. EVERYone here knows each other and you think that our (now wet) groceries somehow look like we're sneaking drinks in?  eff off lady, you're a pigwhore.

She politely told us that we REALLY couldn't come in with "that" and we needed to leave. The boy went and stashed the beer down in the (very wet) boat so that we could actually sit down, have a drink and order some hot food.  As soon as we were seated, the bad-teen-movie-bitch girl left and stranded the one (very nice) bar tender with the ENTIRE restaurant, who we spent the rest of the night feeling bad for, and who CERTAINLY wouldn't have given a crap about our (unopened) case of Coors Light, or really even cared if we opened it and drank one(/6) while he scrambled around and attempted to serve 15 tables plus the bar. 

I hope that bad-teen-movie-bitch girl has a bad 2010.  I really do.  That's bad NYE karma if you ask me.

Anyhoo.  The rest of the weekend was great, drinks, puzzles, copious amounts of food and a finally warmed hot tub. 

Ultimately we left the cabin feeling stronger, handier, and significantly fatter than when we arrived, which I chalk up as a rousing victory.  So cheers us.  Happy New Year.