Time flies the same when you’re doing nothing as it does when you’re having fun. Or maybe it’s just that nothing and fun have conjoined. Either way, the idiom has less to do with enjoyment than it does attention. See:

January came and went in a series of storm cycles that faltered en route from the coast. Clouds hung around like damp cotton. The freezing level jumped and dove. And hey lookit, still no job.

Cal and Nich had a huge day in the Pass with Ross. Up Mt. Green; 5k walk out, and the truck broke. SAR notified just in case those guys behind them didn’t show up. Later, the truck really broke and Callum brought up going back to Kamloops. The thing drains money as quickly as the chocolate rack at the grocery checkout.

RMR Parks helping to pass the time | Blake-John Travers photo

We sit around a lot, and talk. Talk about ski boots: cover every angle of the ski boot. Try on ski boots and talk about what we’re looking for in a ski boot. Offer advice on ski boots; bring up stories of old pairs of ski boots, sagely. New snow is like an electric jab in the ribs. We measure depth on the railing with a tape measure and take bets on how much it’s snowed.

“Still dumping?”

“Like 65% still dumping!”

Head to bed with a purpose in case it really pans out. Ski anyway when it doesn’t pan out, just don’t rush it.

The weekend has arrived when all of a sudden for some reason there’s a line up back to the parking lot. “Huh wow, is it usually like this” asks the guy up from the Bay Area and you tell him no it isn’t. The days of the week are set to tumble dry. Tuesday feels like Friday and Saturday like Wednesday.

Blake-John Travers photo

We get as close to running out of toilet paper as is comfortable. Scotty spends a month skiing the resort on tech bindings then snaps both skis: “Fuck it man, just fuck it. I’m going back to Calgary.” Give it a few days and he’s back sleeping on our couch.

It’s the weekend again - snuck up on you - when the hotel lots fill with lifted trucks weighed down by sleds, their license plates from provinces east of here. Ski, drink, sit, think, ski, drive, drive back, wing night, deep day, get the shot, miss the shot. February blows through town just as quickly as the next storm. Time flies, I'm telling you.


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