Meeting the Cool People Who Work in Aspen
The clouds were hanging low, promising snow, and I was alone… for once. Now that Hootie-Hoo is in Pre-Devo with the Aspen Valley Ski Club, I have the whole weekend to ski whatever runs I choose. Don’t get me wrong, I love skiing with my boys, but not when they’re hustling me to hang out in the parks and “WATCH ONLY,” no mamas allowed, especially mamas who think they’re still kids and head in switch.
So yesterday I dropped Hootie-Hoo off with coaches bursting with excitement for the first day of skiing with their kids. With each group meticulously planned, the kids swarmed around their coach while parents fussed and fidgeted with any loose threads on their six- to eight-year-olds.
The freestyle team has its own color, a bright yellow. As a parent, seeing and hearing these flocks of chirping yellow birds having the time of their lives on the slopes captures the beauty of mountain-town living. Lucky little birds!
It was time to head up and ski Highland Bowl, but I took my time, taking photos and mingling. I met a snow bunny, Lavinia from Italy, who I’m certain left every man tongue-tied, and her boyfriend, Alex, dressed to impress. I chatted with Albert at the cider shack, an old-timer with great stories, and caught up with my ski patrol friends, who wear their local-celebrity hero status modestly and humbly.
On my way out of the building, I poked my head into the ski tuning shop and asked Norm why it was so quiet. Norm is known for rocking out to heavy metal and punk while he tunes. He told me about his switch from being a knuckle-dragger (snowboarder) to an alpine skier and showed me his new badass Iron Maiden K2 skis, which he was pumped to ski on. I’ll tell you what: if you need energizing, Norm is your man.
When I got up to the bowl entrance, the rope was still closed and I was the only one there, just me and the clouds. Guessing the day before had been the day for freshies, I drummed up a million excuses not to wait: many people had chosen to skin up instead, I’d heard G4 and G5 were chopped up from the onslaught of skiers the day before, I was alone, my back hurt… blah blah blah. Then a ruggedly handsome patroller came out and, without trying to convince me of anything, mentioned there were two inches of new snow and that yesterday’s skiers might have made the skiing even nicer. I decided to stay the course, until two friends showed up and invited me to ski the lower half with them.
As we raced down the mountain, hucking off berms and looking for powder on the sides, I once again thanked Harold for getting me on skis at an early age so I could keep up with the cute boys who knew how to ski, including my husband, whom I get to ski with today. Stay tuned… and look for me on the slopes.
