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We were talking this weekend about what new buzz word will eventually replace “stoked” when skiers and action sports people are referring to how they just did something so radgnar and outrageous, and they want to express their elation and enthusiasm. No one is going to be swan diving a lawn dart off a 120 footer and then hot tub it at the bottom, then ski over to their friends being all “that was fun, I’m so happy right now…” Nah, sun, not gonna be like that anytime soon, so in jest we decided on dudes and chics saying “I can’t believe I just straight-lined that near vertical chute, I’m so jazzed!” and then you can bust out your jazz hands or whatever. It will have to be super-ironic, but watch out, it should be coming to your town or local park scene any day now. Here’s a pic of me getting all jazzed this weekend. More to come once people send them to me.
It had been a while since we had ventured away from delicate china with ounce portions of seared foie on beds of children’s hair, $145 glasses of micro-climate produced cab and a sturdy population of white waspy people, so my main squeeze and I hit the skies for our former place of habitat and debauchery.
Before we were leaving, California and particularly the Tahoe area were experiencing an epic 50-year storm cycle that was planning to dump an estimated 10 feet of snow at Kirkwood. No big deal I guess, the next time one of these rolls around I’ll be 78 and definitely by then science will have come up with a fountain of youth or some viagra off shoot that will make me able to ski neck-deep pow and throw huge back flips off 30 foot cliffs all the while reading 2058 editions of the New York Times on my brain cavity with much rejoice that life is simpler thinking I was so silly for fretting over this earlirer storm. FYI, it actually dumped 12 feet of snow at Kirkwood, try that on for size. Oh, is it too big for you? Yeah, join the club papi.
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