This is the first time since I started keeping the blog that I have ever gone so long without posting. It's just that I got so sick in December, then had so many Christmas parties, then went away for the holidays, then came back and Blogger wasn't cooperating, then started working again and ... well... that's how it goes, I guess. But the longer I went without writing, the worse I felt, and now it's finally time to get back on the horse and ride!
So for starters, let me tell you a little tale about Christmas. Which really means Christmas party season and, thus the IESE Christmas ball. (And my company Christmas party, but that's not what blogs are for... unless you want to get fired.) The theme was famous couples and the location was a venue that was once a massive private home but is now rented out for private parties. And so it had a very different feel from Christmas parties past, where everyone dressed a bit more formally. But don't get me wrong... no matter how formal you might appear when you enter an IESE Christmas ball, you will probably looked like some sort of street urchin when you leave.
So Frenchy and I decided to skip the middle part and go as Slash and Axl Rose. Please, before you protest, I KNOW SLASH AND AXL WERE NEVER A COUPLE. Well, at least officially....
Among other couples... the gay cowboys from Brokeback Mountain, Sandy and Danny from Grease, a few incarnations of Roman gladiators... And, as usual at such parties, everyone ended up wearing everyone else's accessories by the end of the night. Basically, if you leave a party like that wearing the same wig you walked in with, you're a total uptight loser.
Look, even Franz our Decision Analysis teacher, ended up with a hat that wasn't his.
And as the only one who had to be at an office the following day, let me just tell you that it's a good thing I thought all evening about the fact that I had to be at an office the next day. Or it could have been very painful!
Two days after the IESE Christmas ball, Frenchy, Tucker and I boarded a Clickair flight to Geneva for a very momentous occasion. The meeting of the Frencies and the Americanos. Indeed, it was the parental summit, held in neutral Switzerland, wherein few of us could claim to speak a common language. For instance:
Frenchy: English, French, Spanish
Noelle: English, Crappy French, Spanish
Frenchy Father: English, French
Frenchy Mother: French
My father: English
My mother: English and some interesting Spanish
My sister: English and Spanish
Tucker: Southern Fried Amuhrcan
Bear in mind we were in the GERMAN part of Switzerland. Ugh.
After two days, Frenchy decided he couldn't take anymore and made a dramatic triple axel, double toe loop diving leap off the top of the mountain. A helicopter was required to remove him so that the rest of us could continue skiing. Some people are SO inconsiderate when they dislocate their shoulders! And such a flair for drama! I mean really. He even got a RED helicopter, so everyone would really notice, just in case the sound wasn't loud enough.
Moments before the fateful plunge...
And shortly afterward... (I stole his wallet while he was incapacitated.)
Loading the Frenchy burrito into the chopper.
Nearly two hours after crashing, we were finally rid of him! And had to carry his skis and poles down the mountain....
A few hours later, many degrees colder, and a few years' worth of worry older, Frenchy's parents and I made it to the hospital and found him, high as a kite, smiling like a lunatic, with his arm in a sling. In my haste I forgot that he might need a change of shoes, and poor Frenchy had to clomp out of the hospital in his no-longer-necessary ski boots, completely delirious.
One-armed Christmas Eve dinner.
The following day, after skiing with Tucker and nearly falling off the lift (something I've never, EVER come close to doing in my 23 years of skiing), nearly falling off a cliff on a toboggan, and slipping on some ice and nearly falling on my ass, gravity finally got the best of me. Not one to be outdone by fabulous French falls, I gracefully stepped into the shower just before Christmas dinner ... and slipped. For a full 60 seconds.
I worked very hard to save myself, first tearing off the shower door, then ripping the shower head out of the wall, but finally I landed directly on my ribs, draped over the edge of the tub like a towel, completely naked, spraying water everywhere. After hearing the strange noises coming from the bathroom (as well as some expletives which I cannot repeat because my grandparents read this), my sister came running to my rescue, only to be sprayed in the face with the shower, the cord of which I had managed to wrap around myself like some sort of sexy Gaultier metal tubing outfit. I looked up at her, barely able to breathe, and managed only the words, "You're all wet!" Nicole replied, "Yeah, because you sprayed water everywhere." Indeed, three nearby rolls of toilet paper were unsalvageable. Poor toilet paper. At or around this time, I decided it might be best to take a bath.
So, one dislocated shoulder and a couple of cracked ribs later, (I still managed to ski, though Frenchy wasn't allowed - this is why you shouldn't go to the doctor! haha!), after several days of perfect weather and great skiing, and even a trip to see the Matterhorn, our Swiss family Robinson adventure was over. Frenchy and I are still speaking to each other. More so, now that I've recovered my lung capacity. And, though slightly disabled, we're so far living happily ever after.
PS - This is the TRUE STORY, and all of you who don't believe that I slipped in the shower and Frenchy fell on the mountain.... get your mind out of the gutter! :)