No, we weren't going to war with those Canucks up North! It was that time of year again to strap on the boots, jump in the skis and head for the mountains. Busch Beer, eh? Well, yeah, if that's all you could afford……

Q: Ultimate Mission? Becoming FU*K OF THE MOUNTAIN.

Q: How does one accomplish this feat? Well, it gets back to the Busch Beer thing. Let me elaborate…..

Every year, one house member takes on the responsibility of planning the ultimate party: The ski trip up North over Christmas break. This is a big Hillside House tradition through the years. Come the second week in January, the food is bought, the cars are packed, the condos are booked and the eager house members start the trek to the Northern Hills of Canada. Why Canada you ask? Think about it…if you are under 21, there's no further reason to elaborate. If you are over 21, well frankly, you probably don't care.

The ride is usually about 5 - 6 hours, unless you happen to fall into the hands of a brainless house member who books a place on the edge of the earth (Stoneham), or you lose a tire and almost maim the people in the car behind you, but I digress. The drive is just the beginning of the long week ahead. Once there, everybody would team up and go to their respective condos. These were usually divided up by nationality, or sexual orientation (virgins, non-virgins, drunkards, or…well, let's not go there…). The first night is essentially spent settling into the accommodations and slowly building up tolerance levels. You don't want to peak too soon, otherwise you will be sent to the yak room and be labeled for the rest of the trip (and your short college life).

Anyway, most days were spent skiing by those who dared, while others sat around the condos like permanent fixtures on the couch, roasting in front of a fire. Some people would actually dare to take daily hikes, to witness Mother Nature, or just to procure something from some part of the resort that added décor to the condo. Most nights were spent preparing meals and then figuring out which condo was hosting the party that evening. Drinking games, madness and overall chaos usually took over from that point on. Time was almost lost. What was only a couple of hours, seemed like a Century on some evenings. Nicole Starett can vouch for this, just ask her. Other events included the erection of phallic symbols built of snow to mark the sight where the partying would begin. Eventually most party goers ended up in a bar somewhere. Usually without their own consent, or knowledge. Some of the better trips included jaunts into Montreal to witness Crafty Workers and take in a Bruins game if it could be arranged.

Then came the dreaded day. Going home! Cleaning the condo of all firewood (usually stolen), ashes and beer cans - not a job for those with a weak stomach. Do you know how much SHIT can accumulate over a one-week period with many drinking people? Apparently a lot since there seemed to be way too many trips to the store for toilet paper, which lead to a certain house member (who will remain nameless, right Dennis?) forbidding anybody from wiping their asses.

Overall though, the ski trips were usually a monumental event that was talked about throughout the spring semester. That is, until fall came and somebody was planning a bigger and better trip!