one time, i was in utah, and this dude looked at me, and i said "hi" and he tried to say something but his mouth was frozen shut by the icicles on his beard and his absolutely superb 'stache. he proceeded to tell me his life story on the chairlift, including how he divorced his wife, sold his house, bought a van, which he calls the "stabbin' cabin", and drives around the country to ski different places, but he lives in the parking lot of the Salt Lake City Fitness center, which is open 24 hours, and he showers there and things like that. he was also planning to screw a pair of snowboard bindings to the floor of his van so he can strap in "the cute little snowboard girlies" and make them feel special. then we got to the top of the lift and we went different directions. throughout the course of the rest of the season, i broke 4 pairs of poles. i finally said "fuck it," and i began to ski without poles.
it is fucking great. the end.