Playing Hooky

How glorious has this weather been, am I right? We're talking about 65 degrees in March! Sun! Vitamin D! But can we acknowledge that there are many setbacks to such tropical weather? For one, the fact that people are wearing sandals when their feet are clearly not "publicly presentable". Let's all just agree that feet must be prepped before the big sandal debut. Please and thank you. Also, how do people make lounging in the sun look so pleasant? My attempt at basking resulted in s.w.e.a.t. and fleeing back to the shade where I didn't feel like a melting grease ball.

No. I am not here to chat about Spring problems and all the twitterpated PDA on campus, I am here to talk about l a s t  w e d n e s d a y.

Looking at this picture you can probably guess that I wasn't cleaning whiteboards or going to class or going to my volunteer obligations on Wednesday. It was a ditch-everything-and-get-your-booty-to-Snowbird-because-it-just-snowed-22-inches day. If any future employers are reading this, I'll be straight up from the beginning. I skip everything if it has snowed. (But actually, if you are a future employer, I am just kidding and this is actually just a chapter of a poorly-written novel I am writing. I'm actually the poster child of responsibility.)

According to this picture I lick steering wheels when I get excited. It's whatever. And I just realized that my parking sticker from Sophomore year is still on the back of the rear view mirror. I should definitely take that off... 

I'm going to utilize a word that I loathe and detest and I'm sorry. THE SKIING WAS EPIC ON WEDNESDAY. EPIC EPIC EPIC EPIC. *cringe cringe cringe cringe* It was inhaling dry fluffy powder all day and eating sweet peppers on the lift and massaging sore jaws from smiling so much day. It was one of those days when you feel authentic. (ugh. Is anyone else grossed out with my writing style tonight? I'm so sorry I just used epic and authentic in the same paragraph..) It was one of those days where I felt so happy and free that I never wanted it to end.

But there is a slight hiccup to such ethereal joy. It's the black stain on a perfectly white square of carpet. It's called powder fever and it's a deadly thing. We were up at the top of Mineral Basin and the ski patrol hadn't opened it up for anyone yet. There were about 300 skiers at the top literally frothing at the mouth, waiting for the line to drop so that they could devour up that pow. We professed to being above "all that hype" and "it can't be good enough to stoop to that level anyway..." And yet we suddenly found ourselves at the forefront of the mob smacking our jowls, waiting for the line to drop...

And when it did. I can't really describe it any other way besides a reference to the wildebeests in The Lion King. Straight up anarchy and chaos. All I clearly remember is hearing a reverberating roar behind me and seeing Elise hurl herself into the powder, followed by about 299 other deranged skiers. It's all a blur, but I think I got the line caught around my head and looked somewhat like a wildcat who had been caught in a bear trap. Straight up savage. Somehow I extricated myself out and barged down the hill, whooping and hollering. I could see people colliding on every side of me but the snow was so goooooooood. Several somersaults later I was one of the first to arrive at the lift and if heaven isn't what we were all feeling, it's so not worth it. How does one describe the emotions following a pristine and crazed powder run? You can't.... and that is why this blog post is so badly composed.

I don't know how or when this picture was taken, but it seems to sum it all up much better than words. 

But where was Elise? In the mayhem that had ensued I had lost her. hehehehe. It's just so painfully tragic that it makes me chuckle. Elise had LOST HER SKI. On the biggest powder day of the year! 22 inches in Mineral Basin! Untouched manna from the heavens and she had LOST HER SKI.

You can see another victim of the stampede behind Elise in the yellow jacket.

She was the Mufasa in the whole Lion King scenario. Straight up massacred on the slopes. And all I can say about the whole thing is that skiing down 22 inches of freshly fallen snow is a lot easier than trying to find a buried ski in 22 inches of freshly fallen snow. Lesson learned: Don't be that guy. But if you do happen to be that guy, be like Ellis Island. She's the champion of optimism.

Thank you Wednesday. Thanks for giving me a day so achingly beautiful and a best friend to enjoy it with. (That had romantic undertones. Sorry.) And don't fret! We managed to get face shots until closing time so Elise's day wasn't ruined by being the victim of the powder frenzy.

To playing hooky on Wednesdays! Hurrah!