One friday night when I was still in high school, my friend and I decided to go on a ski trip. This was pretty much a spur of the moment idea and was a ridiculous decision to start. My friend Brian got out of work at 10:30 pm, we hatched this plan by 10:35, gathered our gear and left for Sunday River in Maine at 11 pm. This is normally about a 5 hour trip, but for two idiots leaving in the middle of the night with a road map and a case of Mountain Dew, it would take much longer than that.
We were on the right course for the first leg of the trip, as it took us right past Killington, a trip we had taken many times before. We started to get in trouble when we got into New Hampshire, as this was beyond our familiarity. This is where bad instructions were given, by myself in fact. In a fatigued, but caffeine powered daze, I read the map wrong and told Brian to take a right instead of a left. This was the worst possible spot to do this as we travelled over an hour and a half going the wrong way before we realized our next turn had not come about. It was about 2:30 in the morning by the time we finally turned around. On the return trip back to the correct route, we encountered no less than 6 moose in the road.
It was 5:30 am when we finally arrived at Sunday River. We tried to sleep in the car before the mountain opened, but were unable to so we just lay awake cursing over our mistake. By the end of the full day of skiing, we had both been awake for about 30 hours. In this state I had become almost delirious, even more so when we were driving back home. By the time I got to sleep in a hotel near Killington, I had been awake for 38 hours and was pretty much hallucinating from lack of sleep.