As always, the future of Skiapooloza rests solely on the shoulders of some men who are getting more senile and creaky (that’s creaky, not cranky) by the year. We have lofty aspirations, and will always be able to ski the way we did when we were 25, to be on that first chair of the day, and on the last chair of the day.
However, our exotic breakfasts tend to make us late, our bodies try harder every year to overcome our minds, and the lure of a cold beer, a nice barstool, and a bottle of Advil form the perfect trifecta to lure us in earlier each year. And we’re sure it’s because the beer gets colder, the barstools get more comfortable, and the Advil gets better every year….
- Jackson Hole,
- Whistler, Blackcomb,
- Sun Valley
- ‘Hidden Valley Ski Area’ in Eureka MO (Jamie, I hate to break it to you, but there is a very low probability that this one will happen…)
- How bad can it be?
- Stop whining and follow me
- Your legs will never be fresher than they are right now
- The older we get, the better/faster we were.
- Here comes the drug dealer with the pot (as Jamie carried the pot of spaghetti from kitchen to table while at the Iowa condo Update: Jamie says I believe the phrase “Here comes the drug dealer with the pot” is from Sand Dunes as I was returning from washing the “pot” in question. mmmmm. Sand Dune chili. ).
- I’ll never ski THAT chute! (and Chip and I ended up in it by accident)