Two weeks ago Tipsy and I boarded a plane for Colorado, where we would celebrate end-of-season discounted pricing, and more importantly for me, end-of-season minimal crowds. Vacationing for me is not relaxing if I have to share the moment with thousands of strangers. Hence no history of trips to Europe in the summer or to South Padre during spring break (with the exception of this well-documented moment from last year).

The first cocktail, of course, starts on the plane. Or at the airport bar, which was closed because this is Texas and we left on a Sunday morning. I knew we should have packed a to-go before we left! I used to bring my own hooch on the plane until they put in place all of those restrictions on liquid bottle sizes. The good thing is that while waiting in line at security, a group of Southwest flight attendants asked if they could cut in front of me in exchange for some free drink tickets. A note to all flight attendants: asking the Tipsy Texan to barter for liquor is like asking a politician to meet his public, and will always be greeted with an enthusiastic reply.

My first apres-ski martini on Day 1. I was very excited about this because there literally were snowflakes falling into my cocktail as I took this photo. Having lived in Texas my whole life I have never had the opportunity to garnish a cocktail with fresh snow.

I had never been to Breckenridge before and had somewhat high expectations for it. For one, I assumed that there would be no shortage of quality dining establishments, though I did not see anything that looked very fancy as we were driving around.

"Where are all the nice restaurants?" I asked a woman I met. "Aspen," she replied.

So as it happens we ended up cooking a lot of meals in our hotel. When I was growing up my mother always scoffed at the idea of hotel rooms with kitchens. "Who would want to go on vacation just so they can cook?" She would ask. It was only after I grew up to become an adult who likes to cook that I realized that her aversion wasn't to cooking on vacation, but to cooking in general.

When physically exerting yourself it is wise to gorge yourself on fatty foods like bacon. And eggs fried in bacon. How could anyone not liking cooking on vacation, when days start like this? And end w/ snow-garnished martinis?

As the lifts came to a halt and as we came off the slopes, it came time for that fabled WASPy moment, the apres-ski cocktail. We opted not to don sweaters and earmuffs and head for the bar. Instead we put on swim trunks and made martinis to-go for our trip to the hot tub. This posed a few problems because while the hot tub is a perfect setting for the contents of a martini, the glass itself does not belong there. A styrofoam cup was not an option.

Glass containers, naturally, were "strickly" prohibited in the pool area


Psych! No cups.

Since the venue failed to provide an alternative to glassware, and since "safety first" has always been the Tipsy Texan way, I decided to improvise. The first step was to saw off the tops of plastic water bottles. The second step was stir up a righteous martini--make mine a double! It's a long walk back to the room--and garnish it with a lemon twist and some ice, to compensate for the temperature of the hot tub.

Hot tub martinis, the Tipsy Texan way. A girl sitting across from me kept asking me where I got my glasses. I thought she was just being an asshole. But I realized that she sincerely thought, through the steam and booziness of the hot tub, that my sawed-off water bottles were some cool glasses.

Though we were there in mid-April, this festive wreath brought holiday cheer to the (imposing, eastern-bloc-y) facade above the pool area

"This place is very 1991" is how I heard a man describe the resort to whomever he was talking to. I don't know what year it was built but it definitely was sporting a late 80's/early 90's look. And something about the buildings looked somehow collegiate, not unlike some of the buildings at my alma mater here in Austin.

Resort or... music building at your local University? You be the judge

Tipsy wanted to make a Whiskey Daisy but lacking in yellow Chartreuse, came up with this tasty beverage instead.

The Oopsy Daisy: a classic Whiskey Daisy, substituting dry vermouth for the Yellow Chartreuse

The interior designers of this resort (I actually think they were called decorators back when this project was done...) had an affinity for silk plants & flowers. In this picture are parts of no less than three different fake plants, of a couple dozen that were in the suite. Unfortunately the fireplace here did not come with any wood, though you could call the front desk and have it delivered. We called, but no delivery came.

When the wood delivery failed to come, I had the bright idea of taking some wood from the stash I remembered seeing downstairs in the public area.

On closer inspection, however, I discovered that the wood was a prop

The artwork in the suite totally sucked. It reminded me of the type of prints my mom would buy at festivals and then have them framed and hung on the wall-- "art work" where the frame is more valuable than the contents. I understand that a hotel of this type is not going to put original works of art on the walls, but their prints were really really tired. They drove me to drink. But then again, so does waking up in the morning.

This print, which was hanging in the bathroom, is the type of art work that is one be-sunsetted mesa away from an Amado Peña, one gas street lamp away from a Thomas Kinkade

What is up with this? Those clouds look like colo-rectal poylps

Every cup can make a difference! Especially if you fill it with strawberry-lemon gin punch and take it down to the hot tub.