The trip was set for early January. I needed to get my first passport. I needed to get my second-hand skis tuned. And I decided I would splurge and get some new ski goggles. When the student loan came through, I wrote a check and went to the second meeting at the church, where I met the people that were going on the trip. If I remember correctly, the group was about 50 strong, from all walks of life— there were several retired couples who embodied the phrase joie de vivre; there was a weird, middle-aged guy with greasy hair that sort of reminded me of Mickey Rourke, there were even several families, with kids as young as 9 (these families must be rich! I thought to myself). And there was a group of 4 guys, friends of Scott’s from the church. One of the guys, Tom, had a girlfriend, Louise.
We noshed on Chex mix, and cheese and crackers, while logistics about the trip were discussed. The 7 of us were at one table, getting to know one another. A couple of us had been to Canada or Mexico, but that didn’t count because back then you could go with just a drivers license. Only Louise had been overseas, to London. Two of the guys were ski novices. Scott, me, Tom, and Louise could ski the blues and occasionally take a black diamond. Micah seemed to be the only ski bum among us. He had a season pass for Elk Mountain for godsake, and apparently had scoped out a couple of the mountains we would be skiing in Austria.
We were all in our early 20s and all looking forward to the adventure.
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