Back From Whistler...zzzZZZZZzzz

Last night, I came back from a one day/one night snowboarding trip to Whistler.

The place is pretty famous, and will host the Winter Olympics in 2010. I went with my brother and his girlfriend, who came to visit, along with several of his friends. My brother's friends rented a suite for several days, so we decided to visit them for a bit.

It would've been a great trip, only the timing is bad; it was way too early in the season to get any good snow. In fact, in typical Vancouverish weather, it rained like...how did the French say it? Ah yes, a pissing cow. So the bottom of the both peaks were devoid of snow, the midsection was slushy, and the peak was packed solid and blasted by powerful winds. Fortunately, the snow base wasn't as low as last time in Cypress, so at least my board was still intact when I was done. I managed to salvage some snowboarding out of it, but none of that was worth the $70 I coughed up for a day pass.

That night, we finally hit the sack. Since everyone else came in couples, they all got the bed, sofa-bed, and the cot. Figures that I was the odd man out and had to sleep on the floor. Sharing a room with other people, I felt obligated to warn them of an issue that I've become aware of only recently.

I snore like a constipated bear with asthma.

I thought only my dad and my brother had that problem. But since I only snore when I'm near or have attained REM sleep, I wasn't conscious and aware that I am snoring. It was only when enough roommates have brought it to my attention, and when finally corroborated by my brother filming me snoring, that I finally believed it.

So, I warned the guy in the bed nearest to me about my snoring, and since I am aware of how agonizing it is to share a room with a snorer, I authorized him to nudge, kick, or even throw (preferrably soft) things at me to disrupt my snoring. And if he runs out of things to throw, he could throw his girlfriend's stuff too.

The next morning, I woke up expecting to find myself buried in cushions, clothes, and other personal effects, in a final attempt to smother me and suppress my nocturnal cacophony. But to my surprise, I only found a headrest and a cushion next to me. I thought that a trick I learned in a long-forgotten CPR course worked; by sleeping with my head tilted back, thus fully opening my airway, the snoring would be gone. However, the guy told me that I managed to resume a snoring position in my sleep a couple of times. Then my brother, with his impeccable timing, told him that the best way to stop snoring is to sleep sideways, advice that could've been useful the night before!

I really hate snoring, and I was horrified to realized that I'm a snorer too. I'm not an inconsiderate guy (unless I feel like being an asshole), so I really want to stop my snoring. Worse, I think it would probably be a major turnoff for any girlfriend, and could kill any romantic liaison that I get myself into. I hope that my brother is right and that sleeping sideways will quiet things down. Otherwise, I'd even consider a surgical procedure to shorten my soft palate.

Then when I returned home from the trip, I found an article in Yahoo! News that was conveniently placed on the front page about an unusual remedy to mitigate snoring - learning how to play the didgeridoo. You know, that Australian musical instrument consisting of a long tube that makes this buzzing sound like a stoned bee, and you hear it in the background of any Outback Steakhouse ad. Well apparently, researchers in Switzerland found that the breathing techniques used in playing this instrument can stop snoring and even sleep apnea (Source). I can't find any didgeridoo instructors anywhere in town, but if it could stop my snoring, I'd sign up as soon as I find any.

Otherwise, the only roommate I could possibly hope for is a constipated bear with asthma.