Some things happen at a ski lodge AND THEN:
I'm on one side of a luxurious winnebago trying to get rid of my cocktail by whispering "barkeep" over and over, frustrated that nobody can hear and all I can do is whisper. On the other side of the winnebago, a girl lying on a bed braces herself before bucket after bucket of dead fish and giant grasshoppers are poured on her head. After watching for a bit, I feel something in my mouth, and run to open the back window. I stick my head out and start spitting locusts out of my mouth onto the moving road beneath me. I keep spitting and spitting, but there's always more - stuck to my teeth, inside my cheeks, in the back of my throat. I spit enough out so I can say: "Wretched earth! (spit) There is no God!" (spit) And then, even more fired up: "Every time you see a lovable little Jew -- it's BULLSHIT! (spit) A huggable Jew! (spit) (spit) -- BULLSHIT!" (spit) (spit) (spit). I wake up to realize that I am actually spitting all over my forearm.