I'm baaaaaaaaaaaacccccccccccccckkkkkkkkkkkkkk
Not in the Twin Cities. At the Vancouver media center waiting for Jim Souhan to finish his column so I can give the shock jock a Wild beat writer-like tour of North America's coolest city. Guess what? Sid Hartman's doppelganger just walked into the room. Rachel Blount and I stopped in our tracks.
(Here's your weekly Minnetonka fix -- Just got a text from Kevin Gorg: Late first period, Minnetonka 4, Edina 0).
So, this is what I dealt with today:
I know you all in Minnesota don't know what it's like to be in a snowstorm, but it's a pain in the butt.
These flakes were massive and pretty much hurt, especially when I was taking the chair lift back down the mountain in my slacks and loafers, because that's what I wore to a giant ski slope because I've got a brain the size of a pea pod.
I did wear a snazzy new Whistler 2010 sweatshirt with it, so I looked smooth.
The funniest thing about the 3:15 a.m. wakeup call and 4 a.m. cab and 5 a.m. bus and 7:30 a.m. arrival to the Whistler media center and 7:45 a.m. bus to Whistler Creekside and 8 a.m. chair lift up to Franz's slope and 8:15 a.m. walk around the slopes and 9 a.m. coffee to remain awake is that the 9:30 a.m. women's training run session ... NEVER HAPPENED!!!!!!!!!