Colorado, and the Russians

My BFF Jamie, that currently resides in Austin, is going back to the land where she belongs. Caalifornnniiiiaaaaaaaa, here she comes. Which, makes me super sad that I am not going to be able to jump in a car and see her in three hours. Now, it’s going to take much more planning. But that’s okay, San Diego is not to shabby. All that being said, we decided we needed to take a road trip before she departed.

Like most all things Jamie and I, Colorado was chosen on an impulse, booked and we were off. I love Jamie for her free spirit and sense of humor. She’s funny. And she doesn’t take herself to seriously. Two qualities I really admire in a human. At the end of any day and any situation, if you can sit down and find something and someone to laugh with, that’s pretty awesome. That’s my Jamie. And she loves doing bits. I mean… does it get any better? It does.

Jamie loves to do accents. I can’t do accents. I either sound Russian or Australian, usually a combination of the two. I know what you are thinking… Impressive. When we got to our resort in Vail and were taking in its awesomeness, we discovered two people on the patio below us. We couldn’t see anything but green shoes. I should mention that we had consumed a few drinks. And as usual, we think we are hilarious.

Jamie, or Olga, starts speaking in her Russian accent, about how we just got off the plane from a long flight. And how tired we are… And then I chime in, “but we must make good use of tickets from plane. Must find man, with, you know, a very large… bank account.” Then we die laughing. Jamie, er, Olga, decides we should go fishing for such men. Naturally, it makes sense to try the guys right below us.

I go looking for a notepad and pen, and we manage to scribble this…

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Then we decide to go ‘fishing’ for ‘large bank accounts’ You might wonder how one goes about this… Maybe this visual will help.

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See, you take the note, grab your fishing pole {in this case we used my phone charger} and voila. Drop lure to men below. Now, as you can imagine, you’re not always going to have good luck. These guys didn’t even bite. I can’t imagine why… But us Russian sisters who make great meatloaf don’t give up that easily. No, we took this bit to the streets of Vail.

We were off to lunch at the yummy Sweet Basil. Sweet Basil is right above Mountain Standard and they are owned by the same peeps. They are both divine, but if you are at the Mountain Standard, you must try the Corned Pork Shank. You will thank me. We didn’t order it, because we were morons and stuck with the salmon, but everyone else there was eating the Shank. And raving about how good it was. I’m going to go ahead and take everyone around us’ word for it. Not eating that shank is my biggest regret of the trip… Am I right Jamie?

Back to the story… Sorry, I get off track a lot {I’m sure you’re thinking ‘No Shit!’ Just know that I am aware you are thinking that, and I feel like the apology totally makes up for it. Plus my stories are totally worth it, so deal with it}. So, we are sitting on the patio at Sweet Basil taking in the view, when I notice a man sitting below us with a very shiny, very large… gold watch. He was obviously very proud of his watch too, because he kept propping his wrist up on the guard rail separating the restaurant from the sidewalk, which was far too high up for this ‘wrist propping’ to be natural.

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And this guy is clearly an asshole because he didn’t order the right thing. And he’s not a girl trying to watch her weight, so he should be eating the Shank. What a jackass. We immediately start speaking in our accents and ask the waitress for paper. I sprung into action.

Sure it’s bad lighting, but you get the point. The waitress was intrigued. Especially since we hadn’t been Russian when we ordered our food and subsequent drinks. As were the customers around us. “What are you doing?!” Ask the lady and her friend behind us. Jamie explained about needing to make good use of plane ticket as I weighted the note down with a rubber band and aimed for his table.

The note missed. The second one hit his table, and even though tables around us applauded, Dumbass didn’t notice the spitwad looking note next to his water. Third attempt hit the ground again. “Damnit!” I exclaimed loudly. Then I got up.

“What are you doing?!” Not even Jamie was prepared for what happened next. I walked down, picked up the note, and handed it to mister Dumbass, and kept walking. This is the note that finally made it to his table.


Naturally he found it hilarious. Even morons have a sense of humor. He came up to meet us.

And we introduced him to our friends.  You can tell how excited he is.

Then he ask us if we were really Russian. This guy… Is a smart one. Actually, Sean turned out to be a really nice guy. He works for Chipotle, and I spent over an hour talking about my love of tacos and asking for free food. I’m still waiting on that free burrito Sean. Don’t think I forgot about that.

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