Chapter 54: Vacation’s End

Thursday, January 10, 1985

Today was our last full day here, so most people were up and on the slopes just after the sun rose. We were included in that number. We weren’t as bleary as quite a few of the Aggies seemed to be, however.

Not fully rested, though — something Angie and Paige seemed to share with us — but rested enough to have some good runs down the green trails. We switched every time, trying to keep on our toes and make sure we had some variety.

After lunch, we all tried our first blue trail. That ... wasn’t a complete disaster. Everyone fell, but we all were able to get back up and resume skiing. Plus, we didn’t inconvenience anyone else in the process.

It was clear we weren’t ‘ready.’ On the other hand — and as Colleen had said — you’ll probably never get ‘ready’ if you don’t push yourself. If you want to learn something new, just doing what you already know how to do won’t cut it.

Still, we returned to the green runs for the rest of the day. Practice makes perfect, and we were far from perfect!

Friday, January 11, 1985

Today was largely a repeat of yesterday except we completed three blue runs. The first was nearly a repeat of yesterday’s, except Paige and Jas stayed upright (if barely) when Ang and I fell. The other two were considerably better, with all of us staying upright the whole way. Not easily, not gracefully, and with considerable effort, but we made two full runs.

That was as good as we’d get today. They’d had us check out of our rooms before lunch, adding our luggage to the huge pile in the lobby. We had to get off the slopes in the mid-afternoon, get our street clothes from our luggage, change, return all of our locally rented gear (that was chaos!), and then have dinner. All that and get on the buses by six for the long return trip.

While hanging out in the lobby, we called the parents and Cammie again. Everyone was happy to hear from us and glad we’d had a great trip.

None of the more obvious ‘walking wounded’ were on our bus. I think they’d put them all together on one bus. There were probably ten or so people sporting casts on arms or legs (or, in the case of one unfortunate soul, one of each) and another twenty with slings or crutches (or both) but no cast.

The return trip itself was ‘more of the same,’ except we were all quite tired, not full of energy and anticipation. Thanks to that, sleep come much more easily to us all.

We talked quite a bit before sleep, though. One big subject was, of course, future ski trips. We all wanted to do this again next year. Whether we’d do it as part of a group tour or on our own was up in the air, but skiing? Yes, please!

Saturday, January 12, 1985

Breakfast was at a place in Wichita Falls which wasn’t much different from the place we’d stopped in Texline. Wichita Falls being a much larger city, all of the buses presumably were able to stop at the same time at different diners and cafes. I didn’t know, since we couldn’t see them, but it seemed plausible.

We called Cammie and told her we’d probably arrive between three and four. She planned to be there and said she’d bring a book. Or Mel. Or both.

Today’s ride seemed shorter than the ride up here. Partly that was because it was shorter. We’d slept most of the way between Texline and Wichita Falls, which is not a short distance! But it was also because, at least for me, repeating a trip makes it feel shorter. Something about it being a ‘known quantity’ (even if it’s just barely ‘known’) helps.

We stopped twice along the way: a relatively quick bathroom stop in Fort Worth and a slightly longer stop in Waco. The Waco stop was designed to give everyone time to call and make sure they’d have a ride if they needed one. We called Cammie and narrowed down our time of arrival to about three forty-five. She promised to be there, of course.

After that, the mood on the bus shifted subtly from ‘we’re on a trip’ to ‘we’re almost home.’ The trip from Waco to College Station takes under two hours, and the mood on our bus mostly was upbeat the whole way. Some people, though, seemed quiet and even a little withdrawn.

As I’d learned long ago (or, perhaps, in the future), many people get a little down after trips or even on the way home from trips. No matter how much fun one had, it’s hard for that to compete with the pre-trip anticipation. Things always could have been a bit better. Not only that, but now it’s done and one has to return to reality. Two days from now we’d be having our first day of spring classes, not slaloming down the slopes.

Our little group was different, but we had more experience with trips than many people. That, and I had a wildly different perspective and had shared it with the others. Add in our all being ‘nerds,’ in our way — people who really liked school in general — and we were plenty good with how things had gone.

To all things, there is a season. The season for break was ending; the season for studies was beginning. This was as good a time and place as any to mark that transition.

Ours turned out to be the fourth bus to arrive. The others were hopefully not far behind us. Cammie and Mel were waiting, and happy we weren’t on the last bus to make it back.

The parking lot was — as one would expect — full of people waiting for their rides, unloading luggage from the buses, loading things into waiting cars, and cars trying to arrive and leave. That, and people carrying (or, in a few cases, rolling — rolling luggage wasn’t unheard-of in 1985, just unusual) their bags back to a dorm. It was a long hike from ‘BFE’ to some of the dorms, but some people would do that.

Cammie and Mel met us with hugs, helped us get the bags put away, and whisked us away. Not home, though. Our first stop was at the sporting goods store from which we’d rented gear. No time like the present to get it back!

We filled them in on the trip along the way. Both of them found my winding up with a drunk girl in my lap hilarious, were not overly surprised that I’d been hit on, and not surprised at all I’d let the opportunity slip away.

As Cammie put it, “If Steve was more interested in sex than relationships — even with people he knew and liked! — I’d know what sex with a guy feels like.”

She had a point there.

Of course, if that had happened, she’d likely not be living with us. Our relationship would probably have survived if things had gone a different way long, long ago, but it would be fundamentally different. Sex changes things, and sex one regretted would change things even more. Cammie probably wouldn’t deeply regret it, but the odds were high she’d consider it a big mistake.

Of course, we talked about a lot more than my love life. Cammie and Mel thought skiing sounded fun. They were also glad we were fully intact. The bus full of injured people had been the first to arrive (so they could make their way to where they needed to go without having to deal with everyone else getting in the way), and they had initially been shocked and slightly appalled.

A future where our travel plans involved gliding down the slopes together seemed like a possibility for everyone.

Once we got home, the phone got a lot of use. We really needed to get a second line, and I went as far as to put it on the to-do list next to the calendar. One line wasn’t going to cut it.

The house was set up for up to six phone lines: one for each apartment and one for the house as a whole. That would be ridiculously overkill, but we could have two for the house as a whole and add a third basement line if those weren’t enough. The basement had the advantage of being a private space for private calls. Right now, we used the basement extension of the main line for those.

A speakerphone was high on the list, too. That was perhaps the opposite of ‘private,’ but we had a lot of calls where multiple people wanted to talk to whoever was on the phone. Being able to talk in a group without handing the phone around would be nice.

In any case, everyone wanted the phone. Parents needed to be called and told we were home safely. Friends at A&M needed to be called and told we were back in town. Some of our far-flung high school friends were on the list, too.

The call to Candice was far sweeter than bitter, but I was pretty sure we both recognized the irony of our coming home happy about our ski trip. She was happy for us, and I’m nearly certain it didn’t trigger anything bad for her, but the subtext was still there. It might well always be there.

We promised to see her and Sherry ‘sometime soon,’ but that might be any time at all, from a few days to months.

After we got off the phone, we did a bunch of catching up. The first piece of news concerned Marc Viguet. He’d called and said I could pick up an advance copy of the article anytime on Tuesday the 15th. It was slated to run on Wednesday the 16th. Marc was open to suggestions if I had any and could get them to him by three in the afternoon on the 15th.

Cammie had saved a copy of the first article (featuring Lynn Scannapieco), which had run on January 9th. She thought Lynn had come off very well and was glad people like us were speaking out in favor of supporting gay rights. The more, the better!

Switching subjects, she told us she’d spent some time with Maxine Fletcher talking about real estate. Not just recapping what we were looking for — though that figured into it — but also how Cammie could get started. Maxine had apparently been full of good advice.

She’d also met with Carly Brewer twice. Joseph’s card was, of course, the focus of both. Cammie couldn’t just set it aside lightly (nor should she), but it was important for her to avoid becoming consumed by it. Carly had apparently repeated much of my advice, most specifically about Joseph wanting a reaction. She, too, said denying him a reaction was the best course of action all around.