The Big Queasy
By DENIS BERTHOUD

Friday, 12:08 am - The familiar rituals are falling back into place. After many false starts, Jay Peak is finally opening and I'm ditching work to be there. Gear packed, lunch made, weather consulted, I crawl under the covers with a grin on my face and powder on my mind.

4:01 am – Wake up. Churning stomach and two fat guys trying to break out of my skull. What's happening? This does not compute. I'm hungover, but I haven't been drinking. I'm sick. But I don't get sick. Not me. Not before opening day.

4:05 am - Gotta ignore it. Denial is a strong tool. I turn over and attempt Operation Fall Back Asleep.

4:11 am - Operation Fall Back Asleep shows no signs of succeeding. Denial is failing. Body weak, head pounding, Macbeth's witches are stirring my stomach. These aren't butterflies of anticipation, they're wasps on steroids.

4:12 am - 6:00 am - I watch every damn minute march by on the red glow of my alarm clock. Head has expanded to twice its normal size. Stomach is up and down and all around. All I want to do is rid myself of this sickness. I manage a few feeble belches but the evilness stays put.

6:01 am - Alarm goes off. Shit. I muster enough energy to hit the snooze button.

6:02 am - 6:09 am - Jackhammers going off above, tilt-a-whirl going on below, appendages are Jell-O, neck is stiff, concentration is spotty at best. I contemplate my options. I'm solo today and the two hour drive may suck.

6:10 am - Alarm goes off. Snooze.

6:11 am - 6:18 am - I wish I lived closer to the hill. I wish I had someone to drive. I wish... I wish... I know I can ski if I can just get myself to the hill...

6:19 am - Alarm goes off. Snooze.

6:20 am - 6:27 am - Snow. I think of snow. I try to get up. Stomach flops, head screams, muscles fail. Dammit.

6:28 am - Alarm goes off. Toss and turn. How can this be happening? I want to chuck, but nothing rises (though the cat tries to help by jumping on my stomach). I turn off the alarm and drift into a shallow sleep.

2:30 pm – Wake up. I'm walking misery. A shower, some diluted orange juice, and a thorough brushing of the teeth have me feeling somewhat human.

2:59 pm – I contemplate checking the snow report online.

3:00 pm - No, I shouldn't.

3:01 pm - I must. I can't.

3:02 pm - I have to. I click on the photo of the day and wait for the download.

3:04 pm – The pixels show a picture-perfect powder day at Jay Peak. Ah shit. Try again tomorrow.

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