On Saturday morning, we woke up at the crack of dawn and hopped on a Greyhound bus bound for Whistler. In honour of Kristina’s Birthday, we planned the perfect ladies weekend away…no detail was spared- with jello shooters and a magnum of champagne in tow, we invaded Whistler for one awesome night of celebration.
Shopping in the village with flurries falling on our heads and Starbucks in hand by day, pre-drinks in our fine hotel room and then dining at 21 Steps and doing some solid gold dancing at Garfinkel’s by night.
To spice things up a little, we also planned a secret mission for the birthday girl. Since she was turning 26, we thought it would be fun to give her just that many tasks to complete before the end of the night, a Scavenger Hunt, if you will…whether she honestly completed every task or not, nobody is sure. One thing is for certain though, there are lots of blurry, tequila soaked memories of good times had by all and some damn funny photos to prove what a blast the entire night was.
Here’s a glimpse at some of the trouble that we got her into:
Task #1: Giving her number to the bartender.
Task #2: Getting a guy to take his shirt off.
Task #3: Getting a guy to give her a piggy back ride.
This was just the beginning, and I’m sure that you believe me. Girls gone wild, what?
Recently, I have sounded like a broken record with regards to talking about how much I currently despise the club scene. I’m big on finding other things to do, which can sometimes be difficult because I’m not exactly out of the age group of people who still like to go clubbing. I’m just not one for pretentious places with arrogant guys wearing big chains, trying to grind up on me and who clearly just want to get a piece. Neither, am I a girl who is impressed by guys buying me drinks all night, hoping for something in return. I can get my own vodka soda, thank you very much. I’m also not there to find the man of my dreams, I’m pretty sure that he hates these clubs as much as I do. It’s not about being snobby because it’s not even that the pretentiousness is directed at me. I just don’t want any part of an atmosphere that’s all about egos. There is also not a part of me that longs to be one of those bleached, bar star, orange skinned girls with Louis handbags who prey on horny boys flashing dollar bills. Honest to God. A few weeks ago, I found myself at a club in the city. I paid $15 dollars to get in the door, plus another $3 to check my coat. I’d dropped $25 before I even took a sip of my first drink. Trying to plot my escape, I ended up calling a friend of mine who is a self professed shut in, “Nights like tonight make me understand why. I could really go for a cup of tea instead of this right now…” I told him. I’m definitely a dinner and drinks, beers at the pub, or quiet night at home with a bottle of wine kind of girl. (I never said that I don’t like to drink!) The club scene is just not for me anymore.
That being said, there’s something about the Whistler club scene that’s different. It’s so much more casual and laid back up there. What I do love about going out is busting mad moves on the dance floor with my friends, and what we call “dumb dancing” …you know, pulling out those old school moves like the running man. That’s what I’m talking about! Saturday night in Whistler was so much fun that I didn’t even want to drunk dial anybody to rescue me. Make no mistake, a nice Pinot Noir with friends is much more “me” most nights; but sometimes, you just have to step it up a notch for your best friends. I’m definitely glad that I did this weekend because I had a ball! Happy Birthday, Kristina!