18 April, 2006 (Tuesday)

Waking in strange places. Golfing with Big White. My first Champagne Charlie's experience.

Big White final staff bash
I awake at Sean's parents place We got there late the night before with all our worldly possessions. The Big White farewell was a bit anti-climactic - we just dumped our things in the back of the jeep and drove straight out. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but some fireworks would have been nice. I've never been that big a fan of ticker-tape, but I understand that rose petals are a big ask this close to the end of Winter.

Anyway, on arriving at Sean's folks' Jae and I flipped for bedding; I got the floor while he got the double. So today I am feeling better, maybe 70%. Sean's parents are good enough to comment that my colour still doesn't look good (well, pasty white doesn't usually do much for anybody). Thanks and yes, I know I look like crap.


Mission Creek Golfing
Jae and I drive Sean to Mission Creek for his 11:07 tee-time. We've got some errands to run in town before we make our own appearances. The place looks cute, a big old-style pub / clubhouse and very green greens.

When we return around 3pm the place looks a bit better. The pride of Big White are out in force - a pack of drunken louts in their summer holiday gear. It's actually looking quite preppy out there. I guess the Sam's 'Golf Pros and Tennis Hos' theme worked out for those who went to any effort. For myself, I'm looking kind of grungy in dark jeans, boots and black t-shirt. All I need is a death metal emblem and I could be mistaken for a lost roadie. (Picture: Jae, Lauren, Sean)

After getting settled and saying my 'Hi!'s to various people I end up going for a walk with Gabbi through the greens. It's edging toward 6pm but the sun is still out and shining strongly. Golf balls seem to be flying every which way. Lots of short sticks and poor shots. We stand back and watch Jeff from rentals and his posse take a few swings. It's painful to watch. I start thinking that maybe I should have brought my helmet along.

Buffet dinner starts at 7ish. The spread isn't huge on variety, but the meat isn't too tough and I get to throw my excess bread at Jae. Emily and Lauren have invited themselves and somehow manage to scam free bracelets off Jae Hayashi, the General Manager of Operations. I guess all that time Lauren spent working on Jess Schumann (sorry, Rafter) finally paid off?

After that there's some kind of prize draw and awards. A few iPods, DVD players and freebies are given out to random staff via a raffle system and 'the first to bring me...'. A few bras come off, passports are brought to the front and Bree from ski school shows off her black knickers. Just another night out really. I miss out on the draw and throw my ticket at the ski school MC in disgust. He sounds way too smug. (Picture: Snowballs off an RV)

Departmental employee of the year winners are announced - nominations apparently come via Big White management. Winners get a clean $250 in cash. Nice traveling money if you can get it. There are 24 departments and names are read amidst cheering. Gabbi gets tickets. Pez rentals. Four go to lifts, including one to Victorio - the ice sculptor come banjo player, another goes to Neal - Gabbi's significant other. An overall Employee of the Year is chosen at random out of the 24 to win a bonus of an additional $1000. Pez comes up, we cheer, he gets a very nice bonus. Everybody disperses.

Onwards and upwards
Sean and I go back to Jae's little motel room. Jae's got an early start to the airport on the morrow to meet up with the family in New York. We sit around while he freshens up, turn on the TV and make crude suggestions about what he can do with his King Sized bed. Jae gives us his classic "Yeah, funny guys" look. Love that look.

After a bit of last minute arm twisting to get Jae out (admittedly, the 'present' that Sean left in Jae's motel room doorway was a bit rough) we find ourselves once again upstairs at Kelly O'Brien's Irish pub. A few guys that Sean and Jae know are around, already getting stuck into the pints. I'm behaving for the night - still recovering, so no alcohol. I also get to look after the car keys. No such excuse for Jae or Sean. Shots follow beers and it's 10:30pm. Jae looks at us bleary-eyed and tells us that he's heading to bed. Soft. We let him walk himself home, there's more to be had this night. (Picture: Pez - winner!)

So it's Sean and I who leave Kelly O'Brien's at 11pm, in search of our Big White brethren. While some of Central Reservations were drinking at Kelly's, including prize winner Stu Meeks, and a few of the Rentals crew, it isn't what you'd call particularly busy. We try next door at the Willows Club, a semi-notorious strip bar, but it's already closed. I guess you get that on a Tuesday night. However, a scruffy looking gentleman advises us that Cheetah's will be open for business and should have some good live entertainment. He asks me for a quarter, which I gingerly hand over. His partner sidles over at the sight of my good silver and asks me if I want some acid tonight. I politely demure, citing potential stomach ulcers and my tendency to hallucinate after drinking tap water.

Roses is a popular drinking establishment on the waterfront. It doesn't seem too busy, even for a weekday. From the jukebox it sounds like it might be grunge night. The screaming metal is strangely hypnotic. Sam and her sidekick Robbie are at the pool table. Looks like Tania made it down from Whistler. I pay my respects, then escape. There has to be more going on than this. Where are all those drunken Big Whiteans?

Champagne anybody?
Champagne Charlie's is hidden away behind an anonymous blue metal door. It's known as the premier strip club in town, but I've only heard of it by reputation. Tonight Sean and I find it without any difficulty. We step inside... and are pleasantly surprised.

To describe it: Charlie's is more a cabaret style live entertainment venue than a sordid den of iniquity. It's clean looking, with lots of bright blue neon. The centrepiece of the place is a large square stage, where the dancers strut their stuff. Each corner of the stage has a large stainless steel pole. I guess to dance off? There is a bar off to one side and a few booths dotted around. The clientele seems to be a fair 50 / 50 split between genders. A surprising number of couples are in attendance.

We walk in and find a good proportion of those lost Big Whiteans. It looks like a few are here for the long hall. Curty is off to one side of the stage, and as the first dancer comes on, he and his fellows start banging the stage in acclimation. Sean and I say a few greetings and find somewhere to appreciate the show.

The first dancer is blonde and petite. We guess her age to be early 20s, but it's hard to tell. She's wearing a suggestive costume of corsetry and lace, and a pair of very high stiletto boots. The clothes come off as she minces around. Towards the end of the act she drags a towel with her as she does the splits and play-humps the ground. For some reason I find the whole show somehow hilarious and a little vaudeville. It's just ridiculous the way she minces around in those too high boots. Too contrived. I wonder who choreographs this stuff? What's with the crazy tan lines?

There's a 15-minute break between dancers. I spot Emily with her work friend Sean (hence forth, Sean2) grinning foolishly at the stage. They're with Jess Schumann; a bizarre evening. I wander over to greet them even as the second dancer arrives on stage. Emily gets a front row seat, I take up a position at her ear to give her a running commentary. The dancer begins.

She's darker skinned with thick lips and dominating eyebrows. A bit too much to be considered pretty. As she bumps and grinds along I can't help but laugh. It's just too vacant and public to be really sensual. Nevertheless, I keep up a rapid commentary, asking random questions about her technique and potential training methods.

Emily can't seem to make up her mind whether to stare or look away. She's obviously mesmerised but also mortified. I guess that good Catholic upbringing is kicking in? The dancer divests herself of her layers of lace, to reveal a bevy of piercing and tattoos. It's an eclectic combination, faded green tattoo ink against pierced nipples, eyebrows, lips and who knows what else? I almost expect her to jingle as she sashays around. I also notice that she's quite a good dancer, supple, with a good sense of rhythm (Picture: Gotcha's - Precious, Emily, Tania)

We leave Champagne Charlie's soon after, it's approaching midnight - time for the Big White party at Gotcha's night club.

Gotchya!
Two pieces of ID later...

We strut through the main doors of Gotcha's and the place is packed up and pumping. The dance floor is a big square of gyrating bodies and flashing lights. Two cages with dancers sit either side of a huge screen thanking Big White staff for the season.

I'm feeling all too sober, with just that edge of tiredness. The next three hours pass in a semi-blur of moving from corner to corner, trying to say my goodbyes. All too many people are messy, frantic to have their last big hurrah. It's a strange place for goodbyes. Perhaps goodbyes aren't appropriate after a season on a ski field. I know I won't see most of these people ever again, and that I'll only keep in real contact with a few, but somehow I still expect something more after 4 and half months of my life. Always those expectations. Always that feeling of something more waiting in the wings.

I say my final goodbyes to those I can find at around 2pm. Along the way I collect Lauren (Sydney, house keeping) and Marissa who want a lift back to their hotel on the other side of town. Grace passed out from heat and alcohol indulgence at the golf course much earlier in the night. Sean and I then make our way back to Peachland and his folks' place. Goodnight Big Whiteans. Safe travels. (Picture: Gotcha's - Curty cutting it on the podium)