Spring Break 2010: High Altitude Training.

Story by Paige Mathew 

| Published Mar 30, 2010

Spring has sprung, the weather is getting increasingly less depressing, and you’re beginning to see way too many Frisbees for your own good. Many people take this time to work off all that binge drinking they did throughout the winter that served as an extra “liquid layer,” and Spring Break is an excellent time to begin just that. I decided to use this time wisely myself, but I was working towards another goal.

Ten of my friends decided we should go to a ski resort in Colorado. This was on one of the most sought-out mountains to ski, but we all had another activity in mind. My spring break was spent in Colorado doing some intense high altitude training.

As you probably know, when you’re in the mountains, the high elevation makes your body weaker due to decreased oxygen in the atmosphere. What you may have not have realized was that when you’re in that high of altitude, you get drunker a lot easier and faster. Yes, the Lincoln Marathon is right around the corner, but our spring break training was solely focused on our drinking habits- how we could acclimate, condition, and enhance our bodies to handle some serious alcohol intake.

You get pretty dehydrated at high altitudes, and what better to quench your thirst than a succulent Coors Light? And when all you’ve done all day is sit in the hot tub and watch skiers come back from the slopes, you really get exhausted and need to supplement your energy via beer. And when your whole party is doing this from morning till night, some pretty strange things tend to occur.

We were advised by the security guard at our lodge that out of all the bars in town, we should not go to one certain bar in particular because of “questionable folk.” Naturally, we ended up there practically every night. After the 3 block walk to the bar, the high altitude kicked in and we needed to get something to drink, fast. After purchasing 4 pitchers of PBR, a round of Irish Car Bombs (obviously, it was 2 days after St. Patty’s day), and five T-Shirts with the bar’s name on it (a bit of an impulse buy), things started to get a bit unconventional.

There was a Connect 4 tournament occurring in the corner that my friend decided to enter to impress a girl, but his plan was thwarted when she beat him, badly. No one questioned why people were playing Connect 4 at a bar.

“I have a vague memory of twisting someone’s mustache last night…” Under no circumstances is this ever a good thing for someone to say in the morning. Shit must have been real crazy if all you can remember is twisting unidentified mustaches at a bar the previous night. In this instance, you don’t even want pictures to resurface.

“Sam says he’s now a fan of Nebraskans”
"Who’s Sam?”
“The man who I let slap my stomach on the dance floor.”

Now this may initially freak you out, but then you realize that this is a straight dude talking about another straight dude. Then you realize he let at least 15 random guys slap him on the back at the bar for some unknown reason. And when he lifts up his shirt in the morning and all you see are distinctly-shaped hand prints covering his entire stomach and chest, you realize that things definitely crossed the point of normal.

And when that same friend says the following, you suddenly realize you can never return to that bar. “That random ski-lift operator wanted to join in so he let us slap him. And then he went to the bathroom and literally wiped tears from his eyes.”

But one of the trip-goers had the craziest experience of them all. She met a very respectable young lad at said bar (we’ll call him Andre) and decided to invite him over for some late night after-hours. After realizing her 10 person, 2 bedroom lodge accommodation wouldn’t be conducive for what was about to occur, her and Andre decide to park and hang out in his car for a little bit. Right in the middle of some highly stimulating conversation, the Colorado police roll on over to investigate this parked car in an abandoned lot at 3 A.M. When Andre’s first suggestion was to get out and run, she should have seen a red flag. But instead, they wait endure the cop’s first round of questioning. “What are you two doing,” “What are your names?” and “Why does it smell like marijuana?” were the questions, followed by her responses, “Just having a lovely conversation,” a fake name she made up on the spot by combining her first name with her friend’s middle and last name, and “Officer, I do not smell any pot. My lungs are still trying to get acclimated to this high altitude.” After the cops go back to check out the names, they come back not with a realization that the girl’s name is fake but a warrant for arrest for Mister Andre. After handcuffing, cockblocking, and locking Andre in the back of the police car, they search the car and find well over the legal amount of marijuana hidden throughout the car. After this jackpot find, the cops turn to her and say, “Wait a minute. Didn’t I see you at that bar tonight?”


“Yes Officer. In fact, that is where I met this fine young lad.” And then she realizes. She realizes they know the same things that the security guard knew about said bar. And then the following exchange occurs.

“Miss, do you think you should go to jail tonight?” “HELL NO!”
“Do you think you should get ticketed tonight?” “Absolutely not!
“Do you think you should not go to that bar ever again and find better friends?” She mumbles a sheepish yes, is given permission to leave, and then scampers back to the lodge in the 4 A.M. moonlight.

In conclusion, the life lesson we’ve learned on this trip can be boiled down to one sentence: Don’t even think about going to that bar without sufficient high altitude training.


Note: This column was not based on true events. But chances are, it was.