It brings all kinds, but most of them are hangers on to the Hollywood lifestyle who want all the perks of celebrity status but have none of the credentials. They hit this quiet city en mass and goddammit they want a taxi here now. Their arrival is akin to the cicada plagues of rural farms in South America. Though the infestation takes place at a higher altitude, the basic gripes of the natives are the same: Too loud, Too many, and Where the hell did all our food go?
My Sundance experience was marked by one trip down to main street, the epicenter of the madness, where I found endless atrocities of the eye. Kyle and I made the trip on the free bus into town and were immediately assaulted by laboratory designed scents which are said to make women more attractive; when used in moderation. The combination of thirty six distinct scents on a single bus proves that less is definitely more. Despite the single digit temperatures (Fahrenheit, mind you), there was no shortage of unmasked thighs atop rickety high heels which proved ill-suited, who'd have imagined, in the slush and snow smothering the streets. These creatures stalked the choked sidewalks billowing designer smoke from their over-ripe lips as they caught up with friends over their cell phone with such mind numbing one-liners as: "Ew, are you poor?" (I am not making this up)
Needless to say I steered clear of the fifty dollar cover charges for the bars and decided it would be a better spent night if I used it to practice long exposures on my new camera. This proved interesting but not altogether fruitful. The highlight of the evening of photos came in the form of a group of trannies walking down the sidewalk, to which I called out "Hey ladies, can I have a picture?" They immediately swarmed me and began making awkward innuendos designed to lull me into a stupor long enough to switch teams. Or so I imagine.
The night ended as well as it began, with Kyle and I sitting on our couch fighting for the coveted space on the couch nearest the space heater playing Nintendo 64's finest production, Mario Kart. And it was good.
One of the highlights of working in the valet industry, is meeting and interacting with a large swath of people that would normally never come across my path. Though this is not often as exciting as it may seem, ninety percent of the time I'm left squirming through conversation with a mid-western, God-fearin', Ayn Rand stereotype bubbling forth with inanities as pleasant to my ears as cats going through a wood chipper. But do not lament for me, for that ten percent of the public that I do enjoy engaging with on a deeper level of conversation than their day-to-day gripes has born some interesting results.
For instance: One sunny afternoon while standing outside the hotel making sure shuttles are coming and going while people make room on the circular drive for other guests to maneuver their massive vehicles, a nondescript pickup pulled up to the drive and rolled down the window. Immediately I was struck by the beauty of the passenger who held out a blackberry cell phone which had given her directions to our hotel. "Is this where I'm supposed to be?" She asks with a look of sincere confusion. "Well, that is almost our address, so I'm going to guess that you are in fact in the right place. If I could just get your last name I'll call in to our front desk and see if we have your reservation." She smiles and her husband leans across the center console, "Cool man, thanks for the help." I dash in the front doors still woozy from her beauty when the front desk girl tells me "That's one of our celebrity guests, don't stare at her and just be cool." Be cool? Do you know who I am?
I saunter back outside and casually stroll towards the truck. "Yeah, we've got your reservation, our bellman will be out shortly to escort you to the proper location as your information states you're not in our hotel exactly, but in the single family lodges adjacent." These places are massive, and I mean echo in the living room massive, containing six-plus rooms and a private jacuzzi.
The bellman rushes out and hops into a shuttle, motioning for them to follow so that he can properly introduce them to their home for the evening. When he gets back, we both have a hard time containing our excitement, not because there's a celebrity in our building, but because she happens to be drop-dead gorgeous. "She's my future wife," he says. "No way, I saw her first, I'm almost positive she wants to divorce her husband and run away with me."
The next afternoon I am going about my business as usual when who should walk up the path? Exactly. She comes over and I ask her how their day was on the mountain. "Actually, it sucked. It was a total waste of two hundred bucks. We couldn't find any powder! Groomers are alright but I definitely didn't pay to ride on some icy highways between the trees." I understand her pain. "Man, I wish I had my day off today, I could have shown you guys some sweet powder stashes that no one rides. There's this amazing natural halfpipe too, called Canus Lupus, that is insanely fun right now because it's so fast without any fresh snow on it. If you're not afraid to get between the trees, there's so much fun to be had even though we haven't had snow in two weeks."
She laughs and agrees that it would have been a better day had I been guiding them. She heads inside to check out and I go to the truck to talk to her husband and apologize to him for the lack-luster ski-day. "Dude, if you want powder, you should come with us to Powder Mountain. Have you been there? We have this house up there that we're going back to tonight because this place just isn't cutting it." Astonished, I can only reply, "I haven't. I've heard good things though from some of the locals, but it's so far north and there's so many mountains near here that I can board for free that I just haven't had a mind to make the trip." He nods his head, "Well, if you want you can stay with us and we'll show you where to get the best powder. Here, why don't you get my number and you can call me on your day off." I try to keep my excitement buried deep down while I rush to the bell-stand to grab a pen and notepad, keeping my pace as casual as possible. "Cool man, well call me sometime this week because we'll be up there until Friday, after that we're going back to LA for work." I nod as if this is something that happens to me all the time, "No problem, I have Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday off, how does Tuesday sound?"
When I came home to tell Kyle the story he seemed skeptical, but also very interested in joining me if I decided to make it a reality. It turned out, without his help I probably never would have seen them again.
On Monday night I text Dave to see if the offer is still open, thinking that he's probably forgotten all about his hap-hazard invitation of the random valet to his mountain get-away. To my surprise, he immediately responds and says that he's got a couch that is open that night, if I want to drive the two hours to get there right now. I run into the living room, already in my pajamas, "Dude, you want to drive to Powder Mountain?" Kyle looks at me with the same expression he always gets when I ask him to do spur of the moment potentially great or disasterous things and blurts out "Hell. Yes."
And that's how we ended up driving about a hundred miles north at midnight to Powder Mountain to meet up with strangers who I talked to for fifteen minutes so that we could sleep on their couch.
Kyle was almost positive that we were going to be raped, and debated bringing a hunting knife. I told him that it was cool and that it would be bad form to bring a hunting knife to someone's house after they offer you lodging. He reluctantly agreed and brought only clothing and beer, as was necessary.
After an eighty mile an hour blast through the black of a Utah winter night, punctuated by glittering points of light in the sky and the occasional high beams coming in the other direction, we arrived. We followed painted wood signs displaying names like Wolf Mountain, Country Store, and Last Stop Express until we pulled into a gas station to grab some supplies: beer, white cheddar popcorn and a gallon of water.
I called Dave to find out if we were getting close. At this point I was still unsure whether he really wanted two strangers at his house and as it was midnight now, I had resigned myself to the belief that he probably wouldn’t answer his phone. I’d hatched the plan in my mind that we would sleep in Kyle’s car for the night, rising in the morning to shred Powder Mountain on our own. However, no more than two rings in Dave answers, to my surprise, informing us that we are actually very close and should be at his home in less than a minute.
Pulling into the neighborhood and finding the landmarks that Dave had explained, we prepared ourselves for the prospect of entering this strange home and greeting whoever might be inside. I had the unfortunate task of finding a snowboard to ride as well, as mine had mysteriously disappeared from the rack outside the Guest Services building at our resort. So now I was not only a dude sleeping on the couch, but a dude who was sleeping on the couch and needed to borrow a snowboard from someone.
All our fears were alleviated the moment we stepped inside. Family Guy playing muted on the television, a coffee table brimming with technological gadgets, packs of Natural Light cigarettes, and various odds and ends associated with shredding the mountain. Dave sat down in the love seat across from the couch and grabbed his Mac, delving into the days events of Heli-skiing and pulling up some helmet cam videos.
Soon the wet snap of beers being opened filled the room and we talked into the night about what the plan was for the next day. Particularly, whose board I would be using and what the rest of the crew would look like in the morning. In the house were two brothers, one residing in New York and the other LA, a beautiful woman named Aja (pronounced Asia) and Dave’s wife Joy who had accompanied him to the Canyons. Everyone in the house, barring Joy, worked as stuntmen and had every intention of using their physical capabilities to the fullest the next morning. Kyle and I were lulled to sleep by the comforts of central heating and the satisfaction of making something out of nothing. We slept well and awoke to the sound of women's voices in the morning.
* * *
The sun came up and revealed to us a fresh dusting of snow, with more falling every minute. The house came alive as people lumbered through the hallways, grabbing glasses of orange juice and greeting the two strangers sleeping in the living room. No one seemed the least bothered by the fact that two guys showed up in the middle of the night and would be joining them on the mountain all day. One of the brothers offered me a spare snowboard, a 162 Head Intelligence board which changed my entire opinion on board length and helped me procure some bindings to fit to it. There was a buzz in the room about the snow coming down outside and we were all itching to get on the mountain as soon as possible. We loaded up Dave’s truck with our gear and when everyone was positive they were not leaving anything important behind, we struck out for the summit.
Powder Mountain is what places like Vail, Aspen and Sun Valley traded in years ago to cater to the jet-set crowd in the mid seventies and eighties. It’s a relaxed, family operated simple mountain with a handful of chairlifts servicing seven peaks and ample in bounds back-country style terrain. The great thing about the setup here is that one chairlift can accommodate a vast territory due to well placed and graded cat tracks which are nearly impossible to miss. While winding through endless forests of untracked powder, without an out-of-bounds rope in sight, one can find themselves comfortably whisked back down to the chair on a groomed path that seems to spring up exactly when you look for it.
One area which struck me completely breaking the traditions of any resort I have been to is the Powder Country section. Here you are free to roam a tract of patchwork forest which is intersected by the winding main road of the mountain. At any point you can come to the roadways edge and walk across, continuing your untouched snow lines all the way to the bottom of the canyon where a converted school bus picks you up to ferry you back to the top. The bus is packed with skiers and snowboarders with a common lust for untouched snow- and everyone is finding it.
At the end of the day Kyle and I were wholly satisfied and completely energy depleted. We rendezvoused back at the house as planned and said our goodbyes. We all shared a blissful moment where we recapped the best moments of our day and left with big hugs and plenty of smiles. The drive home was passed by playing a simple word game which involves pairing two words by overlapping their structure. It produced a few gems, such as: Gasassination. We were home before we even realized it and immediately crawled into our beds for a sound night’s sleep.
The friends made and experience had was of a unique hue of beauty which I have not often found, blossoming in the context of utter faith in others. We dove into the abyss.
Our leap was measured in laughter and the knowledge that not every jump in life has a soft landing.
So when are you going to finish this??.... i am hanging on the edge of my seat wondering if Kyle was right and you should have brought a knife!?? the suspense is killing me.......
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