Since moving to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, I've been faced with some humiliating conversations about my future. At this point in time, I'm a waitress at an after ski bar. People are always jealous/disapproving of this life choice. Finally, I got to have the conversation I always wanted. Here it is:
28-year-old-ish investment banker type: "Hey. So... You live here?"
me: "Um. Yep. And that's how I'm able to work here today and bring you beer."
28: "So, you're a ski bum?"
me: *small cough on my own saliva that now seems to be far too plentiful*
My mind took stock: 25, cocktail waitress, no prospects or concrete goals, no commitments, and about four days a week spent on the slopes. HOLY FUCK. I'm a ski bum. Two years ago, I didn't know how to ski, and now I'm a bum. I'm a person who has lost or given up everything. Apparently, I did this all to ski (and travel). How did this happen? Not a clue. I don't know if the future I'd thought I'd have, was taken from me by failure, or if I hopped onto a more rewarding path. I don't care, either.
me: "Yeah, Brah. I guess I am."
28: "So.... How is it? It looks kinda awesome."
me: "Are you fucking kidding me? Best decision of my life, ever."