Ski Trip

Ski Trip
By Raven Dunbar 2011

The morning was quiet. It was still quite early so most people were still in bed. The sun was just starting to rise into the clear late winter sky. Everything was peaceful and calm until the silence was broken by a loud shout that echoed through the crisp morning air.
“Dude! I totally can’t wait to rip up the slopes with my new snowboard!! Ahahaha!”
The  voice belonged to one Alfred. F. Jones, or, as he’s more commonly known, the nation of America. At the same time, another young man was testing the doorknob on his front door to make sure it was locked. As he looked over at the overly excitable and boisterous nation standing by his red Toyota Yaris, he winced.
“Al, could you please keep your voice down. You might wake the neighbours.” came the quite voice of Canada.
“Yeah! Whatever, Mattie! Hahaha, oh man, I’m totally going to kick your ass when we get up there! Canadian or not!”
Canada, or Matthew Williams,  frowned at his companion and shook his head slightly as he picked up his own luggage, and carried it over to the car.
“I didn’t invite you along on this trip just to start a competition with you, Alfred. I thought maybe it would be nice if we could just spend some quality time together since we don’t get to very often anymore.”
As Matthew opened the trunk, he shoved a few of Alfred’s things aside to make room for his own stuff. On the roof of the car, they had already stored their skiing and snowboarding gear, so as soon as the quieter of the two had his luggage in the trunk, they would be ready to go.
Alfred glanced over at Matthew and grinned widely before breaking into his usual noisy laughter.
“Hahaha, Matt!! You sound like a woman or something! A little competition never hurt anyone! Come on!”
Matthew frowned again as he shut the trunk and moved to the driver’s side of the vehicle.
“I’m well aware of the benefits of competition, but I’d rather not have that right now … and for the record, I’m not a woman!”
With a huff the Canadian climbed into the Driver’s seat, as his American counterpart moved into the passenger’s side.
“What was that, Mattie? You have to speak up! You’re way too quiet!”
“Maybe you’re just way too loud!”
“What?” Came Alfred’s reply as he leaned in, perhaps a little to close for comfort, trying to hear the quieter nation better.
“Uh! No-nothing! Never mind! Let’s get going shall we!”
Trying to ignore the rather intimidating nation in the seat beside him, Matthew started up the car. As the engine turned over, the car stereo came on, quietly playing a mix of music from the Canadian’s I-pod.
“Alright!! Let’s get this show on the road!! … Uh… what mountain are we going to again?”
Matthew winced again at the American’s loud voice, and then shifted the car into reverse as he backed out of the driveway.
“Whistler and Blackcomb … where the Olympics were hosted.”
“Oooh! Alright! That place is pretty awesome! Sweet! … And you got us a good room there right?” asked Alfred excitedly.
The Canadian smiled and nodded his head.
“Yeah, I got us the best room I could. It has a Hot Tub and a full Kitchen and everything!”
“Awesome! Sometimes you’re not totally lame!”
The quieter Nation gave his companion a dead pan look but said nothing. There was no point really. It wasn’t as if Alfred really listened to him all that often anyway.
Soon they were on the Highway and headed from North Vancouver to Whistler Village, where they would be staying for a week, and unbeknownst to them, it would be one hell of an interesting vacation.
After fighting their way out of Ferry Traffic heading down to Horseshoe Bay’s Ferry Terminal, and almost two hours of driving on the Sea-to-Sky highway, part of which was typical Vancouver traffic, the two young men finally made it to their destination. As Matthew pulled up in front of the hotel and Bell Boy came out to greet him and Alfred. As the American helped the Bell Boy load a trolley with their luggage, Matthew went inside to check in.  In the meantime, the Bell Boy caught word of their room number and proceeded to take their luggage up to the room. As the Canadian stepped outside once more, tucking the key cards into his pocket, he looked around. Alfred was suddenly nowhere to be seen. Sighing softly, Matthew pulled his car keys out of his pocket and moved towards his car so that he could move it into the guest parking. Just as he reached for the door handle, something flew out of what seemed to be nowhere, and pelted him in the back of the head. Just as he spun around to face his assailer, the Canadian found himself being bombarded with another large, wet snowball. From behind a nearby bush, he could hear the raucous laughter of his so-called best friend. Now, normally, the nation of Canada was not very stand-offish, and often avoided conflict, but when it came to snowball fights, he was not one to let himself be bested.
Grabbing a handful of snow, and following the sound of Alfred’s laughter, the Canadian crept quietly up behind his attacker. Just as the American was about to stand up and toss another snowball, he was taken be surprise as his stealthy friend greeted him with a face full of the cold, white substance. Now it was on, and the car was temporarily forgotten.  The two young men, now fully engaged in an all out snowball war were becoming more and more unaware of their surrounding. Ducking behind a pillar near the entrance to the hotel, Matthew armed himself as the snowy projectile splattered on the ground, falling just short of it’s target. Jumping out from behind his temporary shield, the Canadian returned fire. If he could have predicted what was about to happen next, he would have stopped this childish snowball fight minutes ago. Just as the snowball left his hand, Alfred, catching the movement, was quick to duck out of the way, and as the snowball flew through the air, sailing past him, a figured stepped out from behind another clump of landscaping. Matthew’s aim was perfect, too perfect. He froze on the spot as the scene before him unravelled. There was a loud shout as the unsuspecting figure that had just appeared ended up with a face full of soft, wet snow.
“WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON HERE?! WHO’S THE STUPID WANKER WHO JUST THREW THAT?!”
Face turning bright red, the Canadian ducked back behind the pillar he’d been using for defence. Shrinking down a bit, he started to panic a little, speaking under his breath.
“Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap! What is he doing here?! He’s going to kill me!”
Suddenly, Alfred’s voice could be heard, loud and clear, echoing through out the Parking Lot.
“DUDE!! MATTIE!!! YOU JUST NAILED ARTHUR IN THE FACE WITH A SNOWBALL!! AHAHAHAHA! THAT WAS AWESOME!”
This was followed by the angry, scolding voice of one Arthur Kirkland, otherwise known as the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.
“Alfred! I should have guessed you would have been behind this ridiculous behaviour, you damn stupid Git! What the Hell are you doing here anyway?”
As the Englishman addressed the American, France, or Francis Bonnefoy, sauntered up next to his enraged friend, laughing in a somewhat condescending manner.
At the same time, Alfred was now standing upright and verbally retaliating.
“Hahaha, what I’m I doing here? Well, that’s none of your business!  What about you? A little far from home, wouldn’t you say? And by the way, it was Matthew who threw the snowball, not me! Ahahaha… oh man, you should have seen the look on your face!”
Frowning, the Englishman brushed the rest of the snow from his face and jacket.
“I know very well who threw it, you idiot! But I’m sure it was entirely your fault anyway!”
Alfred shot Arthur a glare and was about to rebut when Francis suddenly spoke up.
“Where did Mathieu go anyway? He seems to have disappeared!”
While Arthur and Alfred had been arguing with Francis watching on in amusement, Matthew had snuck out from behind the pillar and made his way to the car, promptly taking it to the guest parking.
The three men glanced around the general parking area, searching for the missing Canadian. It took a moment and then when Alfred finally realized that Matthew’s car was suddenly missing, it dawned on him.
“He snuck away to park the car! What a jerk! Leaving me here to deal with his mess!”
“I still say it’s your fault, you damn wanker!”
Suddenly the wind picked up, and sent a chill through the small group of men.  Francis glanced around one more time and then nodded towards the hotel.
“It is getting a bit chilly out here. I think we should go inside. We can wait for Mathieu in the lobby!”
The Canadian didn’t exactly rush back, but he knew he couldn’t dawdle either. Alfred was waiting for him, and they needed to get up to their room to make sure that their luggage made it up safely. As he wander back to the hotel he began to wonder what exactly Arthur and Francis were doing in Whistler, and more over, he was wondering why neither of them had bothered to contact him and let him know that they would be in the country, visiting. But more than anything, he was currently fearing Arthur’s wrath for having hit him in the face with a snowball.
Finally making his way through the front entrance, and into the lobby, the Canadian found himself being greeted by the group, and surprisingly, Arthur didn’t seem nearly as angry as he had been initially. Giving the two older men a shy wave, Matthew took a spot, standing next to Alfred. Glancing down at his feet for a moment, he then looked up over the rim of his glasses at the Englishman standing before him.
“Er… I-I’m really sorry I hit you w-with that snowball, Arthur, sir!”
Arthur looked back over at the Canadian for a moment, thick eyebrows furrowing, as he tilted his head just slightly.
“It was an accident. Don’t worry about it.  I stepped out from behind those shrubberies at the wrong time… besides that, I’ve no doubt that it was all Alfred’s fault anyway.”
He finished by shooting a glare at the American. It would be a look that he would share many times with the younger nation during the course of this trip.
“Hey! I totally didn’t hit you! It was Matt!! Why are you blaming me?”
“Because you’re you, that’s way,” stated the Englishman, matter-of-factly.
“E-excuse me, guys, but can we just drop it now. I’m sorry for what I did. It was an accident. If Alfred hadn’t of ducked when he did, it wouldn’t have happened!”
“See, I knew it was his fault!”
Holding a hand up to his face, Matthew shook his head, while Frances just chuckled again. Arthur and Alfred were about to have another go at one another, when finally the Canadian interjected.
“So, forgive me for being nosey, but what are you two doing here anyway? And why didn’t you let me know you were going to be here?”
Arthur was about to respond when Francis directly cut him off.
“Oh, it is quite simple, Mathieu! We are here for a Vacation … much like you and Alfred must be. As for the reason we did not contact you, well, Arthur told me not too! He wanted to surprise you! We were going to call you this evening actually, and invite you to join us up here… but it seems that you already had this place in mind!”
“Wait, what?” came the reply from both Alfred and Matthew.
“What you mean you wanted to surprise him?! What about me?! Why didn’t you guys get me in on this?”
Alfred looked a bit indignant, insulted even, while Matthew, himself, was looking a bit confused.
Sighing, Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose and then shot another glare at the American.
“Because, you bloody wanker, we didn’t want you involved …” and then under his breath, “in fact I didn’t want old frog-face involved here either.”
The American huffed and frowned as Matthew eyed the three of them. What was going on anyway? Why would Francis and Arthur want to surprise him? Giving his head a little shake, he tried to disregard the thought, and focus on the present situation.
“Well, I am glad to hear that you two were at least going to try and contact me at some point… but anyway, when did you guys even get here?”
Arthur and Frances exchanged looks for a moment, and then the Englishman gave a reply.
“We arrived at YVR yesterday afternoon, and got up here by early evening, so really, we’re only a day ahead of you.”
Matthew nodded and then shifted slightly as he could feel tension building up in his American counterpart once more. Alfred suddenly seemed to be going on the defensive and Matthew couldn’t pinpoint why. It was as if he knew something that the Canadian did not.
“Hey Matt, don’t  you think we should maybe get up to our room now?
“Hm.. Oh, yes! I was just going to suggest the same thing!” came Matthew’s reply. He then looked back to the two older Nations.
“We’re staying in room 525, so if you’d like to come by for a visit, please do! Perhaps we can all get dinner together or something later!”
Arthur, who had gone back to glaring at Alfred then returned his gaze to the quieter nation and nodded.
“That sounds superb… we’ll contact you later!”
“Oui, I think dinner would be most lovely. Adieu!”
With a nod and a wave, the two older men excused themselves and headed for the elevator to their own room which was on the fourth floor.
Once they were out of sight, Alfred wheeled around to face Matthew.
“Why did you suggest we get dinner with them?”
“Why not?”
“But… but … they… they’re … THEM!”
“Oh, come off it, Al. I know you don’t always get along with them, but they are our friends, so why shouldn’t we be able to enjoy a nice, civilized dinner with them? Besides, in case you hadn’t noticed, it’s not very often that either of them give me the time of day!”
“But… you don’t need them to give you the time of day! You have me?! We’re bros and shit!”
Matthew then gave the American a sceptical look.
“What? Are you jealous or something? You’re not the only person I consider a friend, Alfred. You’re my best friend … somehow… but not my only friend.” The Canadian then sighed and rubbed his temple. “Come on, let’s just go upstairs and get ourselves settled in.”
“Fine,” replied Alfred as he crossed his arms over his chest and pouted slightly. “And why would I be jealous. I’m the Hero! Hero’s don’t get jealous.”
“Yeah, okay, Mr. Hero… whatever you say. Here’s your key card!”
As he handed the key card to the “hero,” he gave him a soft smile and shook his head.
“Sometimes, I really don’t understand how your mind works, Al… and even if you’re a jerk sometimes, I’m glad we’re friends.”
Alfred looked at Matthew and tilted his head. It was obvious that he’d stopped listening.
“What was that?”
“I said… oh, never mind! It’s not important.”
The two young nations then made their way up to their room on the fifth floor, both of them silent in thought, until they reached the door.  Once inside the room, which was nicely deck out with cozy furniture, a fireplace, full spa styled bathroom and kitchen, and two bedrooms, the silence was broken and soon talk was focused on what slopes they intended to hit the next day, and what they were going to do for dinner.  Any thoughts on why Arthur and Frances were really there were temporarily pushed to the back of both of their minds, but soon the question would be risen again, and soon the answer would be made apparent.