Mount Metro
Take a good, long look at the girl at the bar.
By DAVE THORPE

Jake had been watching what action he could from the balcony of the Sunrise Lodge. It was day four of his 10-day skiing excursion, and so far things hadn't gone as planned. On the very first day while warming up on the intermediate slopes, he missed a turn and slid into a pine tree. The resulting broken wrist had reduced him to reading his copy of Iron Man and watching skiers as they came in from the slopes. The approaching darkness made him put the magazine down on the table, next to the iced bucket of tall Buds. He headed for the lounge.

He did the usual and made for the prettiest girl who appeared to be alone at the bar. If Jake couldn't ski or compete in triathlons, he'd try his next favorite endeavor: chasing women. Jake wasn't interested in chasing the prettiest necessarily. She had to be pretty alright. But more importantly, she had to be ready.

Just as he sat down on her right, an immaculately attired man in cerulean blue ski pants topped with a white turtle neck sweater sat to her left. "Hi there," Jake said. "I was just going to offer to buy you a beer but didn't realize you might be with someone."

She answered in a husky voice. "Feel free. Chad just came back from the spa. We're with a group from Tucson."

Chad glanced at the bar mirror, and after making sure his hair was just so he said, "Hey, let me buy. I'm feeling pretty good after a steam, massage, and a wax job." He signaled to the bartender for a round.

Jake looked questioningly toward Chad. "Wax job?"

"Yeah, it's one of my fave things to do. You ought to try one. Plucking is inhumane. I don't have anything against unibrows, so to speak. They just seem so simian." Chad looked at Jake's lower forehead. "I mean no offense."

"Fave? Do you mean to say favorite?"

"Of course." Then speaking to the girl, Chad said, "They have pedicures if you're interested."

She answered, "Why not? What else is there to do but ski up here?"

"But isn't that why you're here?" said Jake.

Chad answered for her. "Of course. But let's face it, we're social animals after all. You know, looking good, engaging with like souls, the great ambience that exists coming down off the slopes. Man, that's what it's all about."

Jake was befuddled. "But you didn't just come down from the slopes. You just got out of the spa. Tell me something. When was the last time you actually skied?"

Chad thoughtfully picked up his beer and rubbed his chin. Finally he said, "Um, I don't guess we've actually skied this year. Then looking at the girl, "I'm sure we skied a few times last year, didn't we?"

She said, "Oh, who cares. Drink up, Chad. We need to hit the ski apparel shop before it closes."

Jake looked at her suspiciously. "You know, I didn't catch your name."

"Harold," she said.

Jake didn't flinch. He thought for a moment, then asked, "Well, Harold, tell me. Are you a cross dresser? Homosexual? What's the deal?"

Chad again answered for his barstool mate. "There's no deal, man. Harold just happens to be slim and can fit in some of these new women's ski outfits. I wish I could. You know, it's a tricky business. If you go for new color schemes or a nice slim cut in your clothes, they take you for being gay. Hey, if you can pull it off, just go completely fem."

As they departed, Jake peeked into the bar mirror. Maybe he should do something about his hair. And as for his unibrow...


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