It's been almost 2 years since I graduated from university where I used to run our Ski and Snowboard Club. Since graduation I've gotten a real job in the ski industry and haven't really looked back since, but when the opportunity arose to trade tag along for a free weekend trip to Jay Peak, VT in exchange for some promotion, it didn't take much convincing for me to decide to relive the glory days.
College ski trips because often times they're less about skiing than they are about just getting straight f***ed up. Plus we've all see what happened in Michigan earlier this year when a few frats pretty much tore 2 small resorts to the ground. Needless to say, I was glad to show up and find that the CSSC hasn't wavered since my reign and while they still like to chug beers and get a loose, everyone was obviously there to ski.
Day 1: The Bus leaves 45 minutes late after waiting for about 15 people who decided to drive up on their own and neglect to tell anyone about it. Business as usual.
The coordinators had called ahead to the border to let them know 100 students were coming through. 10 minutes out we find out the drivers had driven to the wrong one. Business as usual. I lose a bet trying to guess what time we'll get through. Amy was 4 minutes closer. We were both over an hour short. Retrospectively our 2-hour wait doesn't seem so bad compared to the 22 hours our friends from New Brunswick were on the road after a series of unfortunate events.
We're the second bus to arrive at the grocery store. Their beer stock is low when we get there and practically gone when we leave, as is their supply of hot dogs and Frozen Pizza. The veggie aisle remains untouched.
After some bus beers, a smooth check-in, and surprisingly little fighting over beds, we're on the hill by 1. It's not a long day but the snow is great and we're all out of shape and ready for a nap by 4. Instead we pound a few beers and head for the waterpark.
It's at this point that I start to feel my "age". The room next door is already on their 10th game of beer pong while we're just sitting down for a team dinner of porc chops in a white wine reduction. I'm not complaining, but I am ready for bed. Check my phone – it's only 7:45.
This seemed as good a time as any to live up to my lost bet. After an [almost] naked snow angel and followed by shotgunning a beer on the porch I feel some energy return. Next door we go to join the 40 some students next door who are already well on their way to whatever bad [or great] decisions they're going to wake up having made. A few hours and countless beers later someone grabs a megaphone and leads the way to a second [and much drunker] round at the waterpark.
At this point it's dumping about an inch an hour and I sneak off to give myself a shot at first tracks.
Day 2: My roommates and I are naively ready to go at 9 expecting the same of others. Instead we sat around for 45 minutes waiting for the crew. Once at the hill the stragglers complained about us wasting time as we grabbed a coffee for the lift.
After a groggy first chair it doesn't take many powder turns for our hangovers to fade and before long we're hucking cliffs and shoots that we have no business attempting.
2 pm hits and we realize we'd already missed the mini 'rail jam' we were supposed to throw at 1. It's not an issue because the promise of free gear draws in a few locals and before you know it we're getting shown up by some local teenagers looking to win something from our box of random gear. None of us complain because they put on a better show for the crowd we'd assembled than we ever could.
The lifts close but there's still plenty of skiing to be done. After less than a half hour we're back out building jibs out of the snow removal pile and all of the recycling bins and trashcans we can find.
Little did we know that Redbull had planned a block party exactly where we built out little jib and before long we have the headlights of their decked out truck and a crowd of 60 all focused on our ridiculously janky setup. I've never heard people cheer for less and when the first backflip attempt is thrown you'd think they were watching X Games Big Air.
Matt and I tell ourselves that it was less than intelligent to try my first backflips after as many beers as we'd had. 20 minutes later the energy of the crowd and few more beers than would be considered safe convinced us otherwise. He got his and 7 attempts [and failures] later the RedBull guys tell us they need to pack it in and shut the lights down. I beg for one more hit and some how bring my 185 powder skis around and under my feet. The crowd erupts and for the next 20 minutes we're celebrities.
More tired then I'd ever been I'm back at the condo and ready for bed. Check my phone – it's 8 PM. We throw back some RedBulls and once again head next door. I'm not much a beer pong person but feel inclined to challenge a team that is 10 and 0. We somehow come out with the win and proceed to get decimated in the next game. More than enough for me anyways.
Our heads hit the pillow and the snow is still falling.
Day 3: Another perfect powder day passes before rushing back to furiously scrub clean the evidence of our debauchery. Somehow none of us get hit with any extra cleaning fees and the border crossing is smooth.
We're greeted back in Montreal with -20 and heavy winds but are almost too tired to notice. Somehow suggests heading to igloofest (an outdoor music festival) the pla isn't met with much enthusiast. After cramming about a month worth of fun into three days, sleep was about the only thing anyone had on their minds.
I drop my bags in the center of the living room floor and head immediately hits the pillow. Monday morning never felt less appealing.
College ski trips because often times they're less about skiing than they are about just getting straight f***ed up. Plus we've all see what happened in Michigan earlier this year when a few frats pretty much tore 2 small resorts to the ground. Needless to say, I was glad to show up and find that the CSSC hasn't wavered since my reign and while they still like to chug beers and get a loose, everyone was obviously there to ski.
Day 1: The Bus leaves 45 minutes late after waiting for about 15 people who decided to drive up on their own and neglect to tell anyone about it. Business as usual.
The coordinators had called ahead to the border to let them know 100 students were coming through. 10 minutes out we find out the drivers had driven to the wrong one. Business as usual. I lose a bet trying to guess what time we'll get through. Amy was 4 minutes closer. We were both over an hour short. Retrospectively our 2-hour wait doesn't seem so bad compared to the 22 hours our friends from New Brunswick were on the road after a series of unfortunate events.
We're the second bus to arrive at the grocery store. Their beer stock is low when we get there and practically gone when we leave, as is their supply of hot dogs and Frozen Pizza. The veggie aisle remains untouched.
After some bus beers, a smooth check-in, and surprisingly little fighting over beds, we're on the hill by 1. It's not a long day but the snow is great and we're all out of shape and ready for a nap by 4. Instead we pound a few beers and head for the waterpark.
It's at this point that I start to feel my "age". The room next door is already on their 10th game of beer pong while we're just sitting down for a team dinner of porc chops in a white wine reduction. I'm not complaining, but I am ready for bed. Check my phone – it's only 7:45.
This seemed as good a time as any to live up to my lost bet. After an [almost] naked snow angel and followed by shotgunning a beer on the porch I feel some energy return. Next door we go to join the 40 some students next door who are already well on their way to whatever bad [or great] decisions they're going to wake up having made. A few hours and countless beers later someone grabs a megaphone and leads the way to a second [and much drunker] round at the waterpark.
At this point it's dumping about an inch an hour and I sneak off to give myself a shot at first tracks.
Day 2: My roommates and I are naively ready to go at 9 expecting the same of others. Instead we sat around for 45 minutes waiting for the crew. Once at the hill the stragglers complained about us wasting time as we grabbed a coffee for the lift.
After a groggy first chair it doesn't take many powder turns for our hangovers to fade and before long we're hucking cliffs and shoots that we have no business attempting.
2 pm hits and we realize we'd already missed the mini 'rail jam' we were supposed to throw at 1. It's not an issue because the promise of free gear draws in a few locals and before you know it we're getting shown up by some local teenagers looking to win something from our box of random gear. None of us complain because they put on a better show for the crowd we'd assembled than we ever could.
The lifts close but there's still plenty of skiing to be done. After less than a half hour we're back out building jibs out of the snow removal pile and all of the recycling bins and trashcans we can find.
Little did we know that Redbull had planned a block party exactly where we built out little jib and before long we have the headlights of their decked out truck and a crowd of 60 all focused on our ridiculously janky setup. I've never heard people cheer for less and when the first backflip attempt is thrown you'd think they were watching X Games Big Air.
Matt and I tell ourselves that it was less than intelligent to try my first backflips after as many beers as we'd had. 20 minutes later the energy of the crowd and few more beers than would be considered safe convinced us otherwise. He got his and 7 attempts [and failures] later the RedBull guys tell us they need to pack it in and shut the lights down. I beg for one more hit and some how bring my 185 powder skis around and under my feet. The crowd erupts and for the next 20 minutes we're celebrities.
More tired then I'd ever been I'm back at the condo and ready for bed. Check my phone – it's 8 PM. We throw back some RedBulls and once again head next door. I'm not much a beer pong person but feel inclined to challenge a team that is 10 and 0. We somehow come out with the win and proceed to get decimated in the next game. More than enough for me anyways.
Our heads hit the pillow and the snow is still falling.
Day 3: Another perfect powder day passes before rushing back to furiously scrub clean the evidence of our debauchery. Somehow none of us get hit with any extra cleaning fees and the border crossing is smooth.
We're greeted back in Montreal with -20 and heavy winds but are almost too tired to notice. Somehow suggests heading to igloofest (an outdoor music festival) the pla isn't met with much enthusiast. After cramming about a month worth of fun into three days, sleep was about the only thing anyone had on their minds.
I drop my bags in the center of the living room floor and head immediately hits the pillow. Monday morning never felt less appealing.
