Superstar Skiing

Today, while downhill skiing at a local resort, I got brief taste of what it might be like to live the lifestyle of the rich and famous. Well, a bit. I didn't get chauffeured in a stretch limo or have slope-side champagne and caviar. I didn't have a facial to protect my delicate skin from the elements or have access to a mountain chalet with a fire to warm my toes. I wasn't serenaded by live music or escorted around by Lasse Kjus (excellent Norwegian skier and what I shout when I complete a perfect ski move or manage some serious speed. I like to exclaim something in my joy, and "Nibbles!" or "Prong!" isn't suitable in this situation.)

I did have the slopes almost all to myself.



It’s Monday, and the scheduling gods favored me with the day off (never a bad thing on a Monday. Or any day, come to think of it.) The sky, clear and blue on a beautiful, sunny day, seemed to beckon me to the mountains. I never ignore that call (unless I have to be responsible and go to work or something).

Yesterday's dreary grey skies brought six inches of new powder to the nearby resort. Monday kept most people in town. It wasn't even Wyoming crowded, which is what I've been calling the small groups occasionally encountered out and about in this least-populated state. When I went cross-country skiing during a University ski team practice, it was Wyoming Crowded (a dozen people in view and numerous cars in the parking lot). Opening day for the latest Harry Potter movie this summer was Wyoming crowded (one theater, lots of eager fans). I'm sure the rodeos are Wyoming crowded (minus me).

Today, I never once had to stand in a lift line or avoid a downed snowboarder on the slopes. I didn't have to listen to punks yelling at their buddies or children screaming about the cold. I didn’t even get hit in the head by an errant ski pole.

It was fabulous. I skied for hours and had a blast. I even had a chance to ski through fresh powder for the first time. It was like gliding on air. My Atomics (thanks again, Dee) cut through the snow like nuclear missiles without the fallout. I felt like a star.

And on the drive home? Prongs! A very large herd, too. Wyoming crowded.