This Aspen Girl
Huckleberry Tea is ready for you to get to know her a little bit better. In our continuing series "This Aspen Girl" Huck takes us back to a much fuzzier time. Seriously, who else has any balls in this crap laden town? Show me the money! Put your two cents in biatches, you know you ain't got shit else to do.

Slumber Party

There must be something in the Aspen tap. It is spring and the men are ready to go fishing. This, anyway, is the explanation that my girlfriend’s mom offered to account for current events.

In addition to the “break” in my relationship (I hate when people say that, as if adding the “up” is just too difficult, so instead they say that they want to take a “break”, just rip the band-aid off already), many of my coupled friends are breaking-up, taking breaks, needing space, leaving and/or picking fights. And life seemed so tranquil only a few weeks ago.

I told a friend in Dallas about the goings on in our mountain town and she replied immediately, “Well, it is spring!” I’m not sure what that means, or how I have managed to live through twenty-six springs without learning about this “boys gone wild” or “boys gone fishing” phenomenon, but I am starting to believe that it has some validity.

So on Friday night my female friends and I decided, with much thought and reason, that the world had gone mad. The only remedy? Girls’ night. This plan worked well for everyone, as it turned out, since the men, strangely enough, did not particularly want to be around us either. And yes, I am talking about my twenty-something year old friends here, not a group of hormonally challenged high-schoolers.

Girls’ night out turned into a girls’ all-night pub crawl. 6 PM: 39 Degrees. 7 PM: J Bar. 8 PM: Kalyn’s house. 9 PM: Cantina. 10:30 PM: Eric’s. 11:30 until the lights came on: Chelsea.

You may have seen us. We entered in a group of about eight and then broke into small groups to flutter around. We could be seen taking shots, dancing wildly, making group trips to the lady’s room to re-group and re-hash, and jockeying to avoid any contact with boyfriends, ex-boyfriends, husbands or their allies. Come to think of it, we may have very closely resembled a group of hormonally challenged high-schoolers.

Not satisfied with ending our night at such an early hour, we decided to have a slumber party. We headed out to the house on Cemetery Lane, changed into pajamas, found some beer belonging to the uninvited males and sat together, in a circle, until 6 AM.

I am not sure when I last attended a slumber party. Nights out always turned into sleepovers in high school. And I guess that college is basically a four year version of a slumber party in many ways (and in many soft porn movies for that matter). So why don’t we still do this as “adults”? I don’t know, but we really should, because I had more fun between 2 AM and 6 AM than I did all night out in town. In fact, despite the varying cases of heartache, confusion and frustration, I think that we all had one of our best nights in recent memory.

While I cannot divulge the details of what was said or done that night, I can tell you that there was more laughing than crying. Marisa danced, Dava went on a treasure hunt, and Carrie revealed parts of herself that we had never seen before. Leigh Ann giggled and Dom sighed, because she still doesn’t know what she wants. I showed everyone my new scars. And I realized that sometimes, when the passion slips out of one area of your life, it resurfaces, unexpectedly, somewhere new.

Finally, as the sun began to rise, we fell asleep, comforted in knowing that we were, and are, not alone.