Altitude Sickness and Me

My bff for over 20 years (not to mention the mother of my most precious godson) lives in Colorado Springs. I've been to visit several times over the years, and because of PG will continue to go, perhaps more frequently. I love being with Joy. She may be the only person on earth who completely gets me, and we have never had a fight of any sort. We think that her mom and my dad are cosmic twins since they are both angry, cheap, pessimistic people. I would go see her regardless of where she lived, and CS is truly beautiful, but I do have some complaints:

1. Joy has bighorn sheep that regularly frolic in her yard and on her street. The minute I hit town, these alleged bighorns pack up their badminton sets and picnic gear and head for the hills. Damned sheep should at least appreciate the fact that I'm an Aries!

2. Everyone in Colorado is super healthy. They ride bikes and hike in the mountains and eat organic produce. I don't think there is a Dairy Queen in the entire state. This makes me feel bad about myself, although not bad enough to take any kind of positive action.

3. The altitude sucks! I am a sea level kind of girl. Here are the places I have lived: north and central Texas; Ft. Rucker,Alabama; Edgewater, Florida; Clarksville, Tennessee; Ft. Leavenworth, Kansas; Heidelberg, Germany. You also may be able to guess at my daddy's profession. Anyway, I like low altitudes.

Once, on a trip to Joy's, she and I decided that we would drive to the top of Pike's Peak. I had been to the summit once before with my parents and brother via the cog railway. No problems there. I don't know what the difference was: maybe I was younger and better able to handle it or maybe I knew Tubby was not going to accept altitude sickness. Anyway, off Joy and I went! The night before we had gone to one of her neighbor's houses to watch the Avs in the Stanley Cup playoffs. Our hostess, who bore a striking resemblance to Jamie Lee Curtis, served the best frozen margaritas with a shot of amaretto on top. A big part of altitude sickness is dehydration, and these nifty little drinks did nothing to help me there. Why did I drink them, you might ask. My answer is I didn't want to be an ungrateful guest. Hello, I have manners!

On our ascent, I started to feel queasy and headachey. As is our custom, Joy was jabbering away to me, but instead of happily chattering back, I was answering her in increasingly monosyllabic replies.

Joy: Would you like to stop and take some pictures?
me: no
Joy: (at 10,000 feet) Would you like to stop for some fudge?
me: no
Joy: (at 12, 000 feet) Would you like to stop at the gift shop?
me: (at this point my only goal in life is not to vomit and I have figured out the problem) Just get me the fuck down!
Joy: OK

Silence ensues while Joy indeed gets me the eff down. It was probably the longest silence ever in our years of friendship. Once we were back to a more reasonable 7000 feet, I am completely back to normal and a little hazy on the Pike's Peak details. Thankfully, Joy will never let me forget this incident, and I even received a Christmas ornament with a bighorn demanding to get the f$#@ down.