One time... a long time ago...
I was the head digger at High North Ski Camp.
We had a very strict policy about absolutely anyone riding the lane - you had to talk to Shane (camp owner). Plain and simple - ride the lane? Talk to Shane.
One day, a couple of really big pros - one of them being Simon Dumont - rolled up looking to hit our big jump, which was in immaculate condition due to the severe hard work of the diggers. In these days, we didn't get much cat work so the more people that hit the jump, the more work there was for the entire (unpaid) dig crew. The more tracks, the more shovels full of snow to fill them.
There was insurance worries, traffic, damage to the lane, etc.
Ride the lane? Talk to Shane.
So Mr. Dumont rolls up with a crew, and says "Hey can we hit this?"
I clearly state - "Sorry guys, not right now. Just go talk to Shane and I'm sure it will be all good." I promptly take my hit on the jump and stop at the bottom.
The crew at the top stands there for a bit, most of them abandoning the mission and heading down to either talk to Shane or realize that they'd already been rejected and walk away. However, Mr. Dumont decides to take a hit. He does so. Pulls off some kind of awesome trick, everyone claps.
He rolls up to me, looking defiant - but I'm a good soldier.
I yell "What you think you're too fucking famous to follow the rules?".
I walk away, Simon doesn't come back for the rest of the summer.
We've worked it out since then. I was a little hot headed about who rode the lane, and it was a dick move.