Rant - Whistler Olym... Wait I don't want to get sued...

Rant - Whistler Olym... Wait I don't want to get sued...

No, this is one for the people, by the people, of the... whatever. This is just an idea I'd brewed up a while ago and have been letting it slowly simmer on the back burner, like a good wine. I've bounced it off some friends over the years with minimal results, so I figure why not try to broaden my scope of distribution.

What is to follow is a series of events, partaken in by a group of... Let's call them "athletes". The idea is that each activity portrays an aspect of the lifestyle of those of us who call home, Whistler. Or the other way around. For many of the participants, this will not be a drastic change in their daily habits, and it may seem like they've been training for this their whole lives. Like the athletes in the real olympics are forced to!

The party starts with the snow limos. Have you ever seen these things? They're kinda like dogsleds, in the front sits someone so lazy they can't stand up long enough to slide to the bottom of a hill on their own, and in the rear (as usual) they strap a poor aussie who claims to be "pilotting" the bastard. Then, instead of dogs, they harness the power of gravity to propell them down the slopes. What a thrill. Well fuck all that noise. Youtube sometime (not now, you're not done reading yet) "sidecar racing". Check that shit out! Now we combine the balls-out fury of that sport, with the huge potential of poising an out-of-control dogless dogsled at the top of a mountain, times like a dozen or so sleds, and you've got yourself a race, my friends! We could have jumps and obstacles and everything! Even style judges, judging.. I dunno, style. And if you really want to draw a crowd, bring back those fat, lazy pricks who hired the snow limo in the first place and strap them back in for the ride of a lifetime!

Ok so now we're off and running, and you've fired up a hoard of drunken enthusiasts who now have nothing to do. At the same time, if everything went according to plan, by now you've really pissed off some mountain safety dorks. This is a powder keg waiting for someone to kick the tires and light the fires. Allow me.... SNOWBALL FIGHT!!! Only this one is sanctioned (because this is a fully-fledged fucking event!) You pit ski patrol vs anyone who's ever been told they're having too much fun on a snow-covered mountain, and make sure the cameras are rolling! This is a GoPro wet dream. I know plenty of folk who'd love a fair shot at the fun police who pace the lift line telling everyone to calm down, when they're waiting for peak to open after it's been storming all week, and their subordinates who have all the authority in the world because they have a name tag built into their jackets. Well my jacket has a nametag too, it says "Duck, Bitch!" I have no idea how you'd judge this thing, but it's a good goddamn idea.

Alright, time to slow things down a little. Next up is one of my favourite events: america's next top sushi chef! Or something like that. The short version is, everyone makes their own, greatest sushi creation, with points for creativity, originality, presentation, and flavour... I dunno, at this point in the day I'll be really hungry and I love sushi and since it's my idea I get to be a judge. Pass the sake, next event.

At this point it's getting late, time to unveil a crowd-pleaser. We have a chugging competition, obviously, but this is 2013 and this is Whistler, we'd better step things up. It's time for, Caesar Chugging. Pitchers, that's right, hold your "half-price doubles in a pint glass", this is serious. We've got some of the worlds' best drinkers on hand who swallow trays of those as a pleasant refreshment for apres. Seriously, those things go down way too easily. No we'll get the bottlejockies at Dusty's to blend up pitchers of their famous Ceasars, with all their normal fixins, and the competitors have to finish the whole kit AND kaboodle. Now, when you puke, because you will puke, it's gonna be bright red and full of chunks of celery and green bean and beef jerky and spicy pickle. Don't let it go to waste! Fear not, we'll outfitted the first 3 rows of spectators with plastic ponchos - we'll call it the "splash zone". Hey don't get all grossed out, if you can market being soaked by a pool full of killer whale piss, this should be a breeze. It's fun for the whole family!

Time for the big finale, the culmination, the ultimate deciding event which separates the true Whistlerites from the common citiot weekend-warrior (assuming they survived the trip into the mountains on their all-seasons). I lovingly title this one "Last-Call Roulette" This is already a pretty common past-time here in Whistler, and the premise is simple: Whoever successfully engages in unprotected sex with the most tenants of staff housing, WITHOUT contracting something incurable, wins! In many ways.

 

Good luck everyone, and remember, users and losers.

Psssttt ! Envoie-ça à ton ami!

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