2001: A Toomba Odyssey

And so it came to pass that Stanley Kubric, having no better material from which to make a movie for the first year of the new millenium, turned to the venerable Toombas. Besides, they had a guy named Dave among them, so it worked out pretty well, what with those eerie "Dave" comments from HAL and all.

Anyway, the Toombas, in typical Toomba fashion, waited until the last minute to figure out just which of them would be making the yearly trek to the Hallowed Peak. Tom had considered bringing his kids at one point, but thought the better of it.

There was Svenny, who had weaseled out of the trip initially, claiming he had to work. His status as one of the most revered Toombas was therefore revoked, and he was officially renamed "Weasel." But at the 11th hour, he caved in to the immense pressure (8 Toombas are very heavy), and he joined the trip.

Then there was Pappy, the respected elder of the group. He valiantly contributed his $50 deposit, waxed up his skis, and was ready to once again brave the feared slopes of Snowshed Killington. "I'm gonna get some serious verts this year!" he was rumored to have exclaimed. But it was not to be. His wife had taken ill, and being the valiant Toomba that he is, Pappy chose the high road and stayed home to care for the ill Mrs. Pappy.

And there was Inge's brother, Scott, aka NFG, who was going to make his first trip. But he wimped out, claiming his boiler was busted. What a lame excuse. Puss.

OK, so how many were there then? Well how the hell should I know? It sounded like there were only going to be about 8. What a drag. Only one year were there fewer, save the beginning years.

Well you know, 8 isn't so bad, but if you have more, it spreads the cost out a little more. So the Toombas were not too happy, given that they are generally cheap by nature.

When all of a sudden, out of nowhere, the long-lost Tweety Toomba, who had not been seen since the first Killington trip, showed up. And there was much rejoicing.

So there were 9 Toombas. And nine was fine, since there were only 8 beds anyway. And so they went. And they made it. And they only missed two turns - one at Cleveland, and one at Albany. They had made the trip so many times, you'd think they'd figure it out by now.

And they stayed at a lovely condo called the Colony Club. And they skied for two days, and they had their share of falls, and wallowed in the slosh on the third day, for it rained yet again. And Inge froze to the Skye Peak quad on the long ride up from Bear Mountain to the Peak. "This sucks!" he exclaimed, although there was no one around to hear. They had all gotten smart and gone to the bar.

And Jimp, whose knee was feeling mushy, had wimped out the day before. "PUSS!" the Toombas yelled. "FAG!" And the air was blue with epithets and generally nasty comments. But they were just kidding. Sort of.

And that was it. They stayed, they ate (Gradyman Toomba cooked breakfast), they drank (one Toomba drank a bit too much and barfed out the gondola window), they skied, and they ogled a ski bunny or two. And they discussed the possibility of recalibrating all units of measure to be based on the speed of light. But the Toombas are getting a bit long in the tooth these days, so some of the past silliness was absent this year.

Perhaps the time will come next year to move on to a different place to shake things up a bit.