I, of course, didn't want to go out that night.  Why?  We had a lovely place to chill after a long day.  We'd gone to the convenience store that was downstairs and gotten beer and nuts and things for breakfast.  And now I was on the couch, feet up, watching the 49ers play the Giants in the NFC Championship Game.  If I turned my head to the right, I could see the snowy slopes and powdered rooftops of other buildings.

"Where do you want to eat," Dick asked as the game wore down.

"I don't know.  Here's a list of places in the Canyons.  Do you see anything?"  I was hungry, but I didn't want to go to Park City.  Dick picked out two restaurants a few walking minutes from our room and said, "Let's go."

Downstairs, Dick decided to ask the pretty adolescent girl behind the desk for her recommendations.  Her advice was a place that served everything with a Mexican theme.

"They've got the best nachos in the world," she cooed.  Dick said, "Really," with real earnest.  It was not a question but an affirmation.

Outside I told him, "We're not going for nachos, I can tell you that now."

We ate instead in a little tapas lounge with intimate seating, two televisions showing the football game, and an extended family of Giants fans wearing Jerseys.  There was that and a big picture window which looked out onto the slopes and Dick and I still in our ski clothes.  The game went into overtime.

"You want to go for a drink in town?"

Sundance.  We'd heard it was wall to wall people, the streets crowded shoulder to shoulder.

"I don't know," I said.  "Maybe we should just shower up tonight and hang.  We can go into town fro dinner tomorrow."

"Let's just go in for one," Dick said.

We'd travelled to hard places together, and in our little adventure group there was only one rule.

"Sure," I said.  "Sure, let's go."

We didn't shower, didn't change.  This was going to be quick.  We simply got onto the shuttle bus and took the ten minute ride.  And then. . . we were in the middle of it all.  And it was beautiful.  We were dropped at the bottom of the hill looking up Main Street as it climbed, drifting to the right slightly, the old buildings looking as it must have when the town was founded.  Except tonight it was Hollywood.

We wandered up the street one time looking into windows, then came back the other side.

"Let's go in here and get a drink," he said.  There was a line to get in.  There were lines everywhere.  I don't do lines, but Dick wanted to go, so we queued up with the others.