By G.D. Maxwell
Yikes! And I thought Halloween was scary. Four more years without a regime change? Republican gains in both houses of Congress? A divided elec….
( Editor’s Note : We interrupt this political rant for a change of subject. Repeated focus groups have shown a complete lack of interest in the subject. Besides, there’s snow on the ground now and Max’s new contract limits him to writing about U.S. politics no more frequently than twice a year. It’s local colour and those cute dog and cat stories… or the unemployment line!)
Alrighty then.
As I was saying, with SNOW ON THE GROUND, colder temps, more divine sloppy weather headed our way, the tantalizing possibility of an early opening and more fresh faces wandering aimlessly around the village than at any time since the Methodist Ski Club held their Ski & Synod here, I’d like to take this opportunity to welcome all the new, instant locals to our happy mountain home. Welcome seekers; this is the promised land.
By now, you’ve no doubt found a place to live. Couch surfing doesn’t count. If that’s what you’re doing, put the pipe down and go find a place to live. I know it’s expensive; get used to it.
If you do have a place to live, you may be the heir apparent of well-to-do parents, staying in their vacation home or condo, lounging in their hot tub and, if they really love you, drinking their liquor. If that describes you, contact me through Pique and I’ll be happy to come over and give you private consultations on the fine art of passing for a local. Lesson One: Maxing out daddy’s Amex and providing a perfectly legitimate-sounding excuse.
The rest of you bums are either living in staff housing or have cast your budding republican fates to the cruel forces of the housing market. Those of you living in staff are undoubtedly too stoned to have read this far. Good luck to you and rest comfortably in the knowledge that none of the protections afforded by British Columbia’s landlord-tenant laws apply to you.
Those of you who have bitten the bullet and rented places, congratulations; without your willingness to pay ridiculous rents, Whistler’s economy would pretty much collapse around the ankles of everyone who paid way too much for the homes you’re living in. If you were lucky enough to come out here with 10 or 12 of your buds from Toronto or Halifax, you probably already know your roommates. If not, this is a very important time for you. Your happiness – and the chance of actually lasting an entire season here – depends on getting to know and love the new people you’re living with.
I highly recommend engaging in some group activities to bond with your roomies. Trips to the food bank, for example. Oh sure, I know that’s not the kind of thing you’re used to doing but hey, you’re not living at home any more and even low-rent activities are part of the Whistler Experience. Remember your basic survival training: shelter first, food second.
Besides, there are at least three compelling reasons to visit the food bank. First and foremost, every dollar you don’t spend on food you can spend on… fill in the blank. Second, nutrition is important. You’ve seen what happened to that poor guy in Supersize Me . There’s no way you can huck cliffs, glide through bottomless pow, party ‘til the cows come home and drag yourself into work without some fire in your belly.
Most importantly though, think how it’ll sound when you call home to hit your folks up for dough and casually say something like, "Gee Mom, it’s hard to get enough to eat around here when the food bank’s only open two days a month." Bonanza, dude.
Okay, while we’re on the subject of calling home, it’s important to understand just how vital it is to both your own well being and your folks’ waning sense of importance for you to call them up – collect, of course – and ask them for money. No matter how independent you are, no matter what the state of your bank account may be, it’s crucial you engage in this humiliating task sometime soon… and preferably frequently. Extra points if you can make your voice choke up a little while you’re talking. Go on, swallow your pride. It’ll make your folks feel good, it’ll give ’em a chance to remind you once more how they think you’re wasting your education, and it will give them a glimmer of hope that you’ll come to your senses and not become just another Whistler ski bum. Chances are really good you won’t, but they don’t have to know that and it’s not like you can’t think up good things to do with the money they send you.
But back to getting to know your new roomies. Since there’s a good possibility you never actually lived in a mosh pit before, a few rules of etiquette might be helpful in avoiding the ever-present danger of hostilities turning your "home" into a war zone. First off, never borrow anything – food, drugs, beer, money, gear – without asking, "Hey, does this belong to any of you?" If no one claims it, it’s yours. If the real owner was, say, at work when you asked, well, you did everything you could; there’s no reason for them to get in a snit over it.
It’s probably fair to say everyone at the house shares your impeccable taste in music. And let’s face it, there is no bad time to crank up the volume on an old Zep or new Libertines tune, right? So it’ll go a long way towards cementing good roommate relationships if you share the latest CD you’ve shoplifted, downloaded or borrowed – see above – as soon as you get home with it. Play it loud; there’s plenty of time to sleep when you’re older.
Finally, and this is really important, there’s just no getting around the dynamics of human interaction. Sooner or later – probably sooner – someone living at the house is going to be cast in the role of Loser. That person will become the scapegoat for everything that’s intolerable. Someone ate all the cookies? It’s the loser’s fault. Didn’t wash dishes for the last three weeks? Loser. Parked behind everyone else with a weak, now dead, battery? Loser.
It’s important you’re not that person. It’s vital you’re not that person. Your self-esteem can’t afford to take that hit; not now, not ever. So, what to do? Well, the easiest way of avoiding becoming the loser is to make sure the cloak of infamy fits someone else’s shoulders better. There are at least three surefire, never-fail strategies to stick someone else with the label. If you’d like to know what they are, leave a message for me at Pique and we’ll set up one of those personal, reasonably-priced consultations.
