No need to worry. I'm sure the petulant little degenerates are good liberals; I'm sure they didn't leave a single scrap of paper on the mountain.
Signs You've Chosen the Wrong Mount Everest Guide:
The last three days, all you've had to eat is s'mores.
Every morning greets the group with, "Wonder who'll die today?
"
Doesn't worry about provisions, as there's bound to be a Starbucks or McDonald's every half mile or so.
Gets lost in the "Sherpa Shack" gift shop.
Makes everyone do upside down shots off the St. Bernard's collar.
First day's preparation devoted entirely to making snow angels.
Every 10 minutes, stops and yells, "RICOLA."
Throws a fit when her stiletto heel gets stuck in the ice.
Has everyone stick their tongues to a cherry popsicle "for practice."
Keeps repeating, "Is it me, or is it cold up here?"
"Map, schmap -- you see the top from here!!"
Two words: Golf Clubs.
Forgets to wear socks with his sandals.
Keeps using the oxygen tanks to make balloon animals.
Every so often, turns and screams, "Stop following me!"
Squeezes your ass then yells, "Hey, if we get stranded we can live off Tubby here for a week!"