We're sitting at a table in a Burger King in rural Vermont, and for the second time in as many weeks we're overhearing a serious conversation about the Caveman Diet.
"I mean it totally makes sense."
"Yeah, if you think about it, they say that our brains have shrunk since we were hunter gatherers."
Although some of us have developed a sense of irony, in compensation.
"So yeah, part of my deal about getting back to, you know, a more natural relationship with food and exercise."
The girls at the table smile as he casually runs a hand over his biceps. I wonder if he also takes a caveman approach to dating.
"So yeah, you know. Lots of running. Raw food."
Yer man's a hedgefunder turned personal trainer. In fact, the whole table's so ridiculously Alpha that the fast food empire should be sponsoring them to sit here and eat their whoppers and burger shots.
"Sounds like you're building a really strong brand."
"I mean, that shit's important."
Obediently we troop back on the bus, having successfully foraged enough saturated fat to get us back home to New York.
Living over here, it's sometimes difficult to remember that London has its own special breed of city arseholes, spraying Eastern European models with champagne and pricing the rest of us out of Zones 1 and 2. But this shiny bunch of Ivy-Leaguers we're spending the weekend with are in a class of their own. They're smart, driven and attractive, and talking to them after a long day skiing is about as much fun as side-stepping up a bunny hill.
"But, I mean, everyone seems really nice," I insisted on the first night.
By the second I'd added the qualifier "...just not, you know, really our sort of people."
By the time we left words like "semi-obnoxious" were starting to appear.
"It's like fucking Jersey Shore in that hot-tub."
"You've never watched Jersey Shore."
"Yeah, but don't you find it weird that they all have six-packs? I swear one of those guys played a reality TV star in some teen movie. Seriously, the situation is outta control."
Although accustomed to feeling like outsiders (what with having accents and all) that weekend it was like we were a different species to the rest of the party. Things came to a head over breakfast when we were talking with some of the guides about cross-use skis.
G1:"I mean, it's great really challenging."
G2:"Yeah, because that's the problem with normal skiing. I prefer snowboarding because you get a full-body workout."
Chris and I munch our cereal and nod pleasantly.
G1:"Well you should try these kind of skis. You're really engaging your muscles. It's like you spend all day lunging."
G2: "That sounds awesome. You know, I live to lunge. I'd lunge all fucking day if I could."
A glance at her face tells us she's not joking, and we quietly slip away.