A Day at the Ski Resort
It’s all downhill from here they say meaning it is never going to be better than it is right now, but that is not the case here, today you get to go downhill and then you get to go back to the top and do it again; the downhill is the fun part! The best part! The part we have been practicing and training and trying for since we started, whether that was 2 hours ago or 2 lifetimes ago.
We are, here, now, living for the downhill. That may change when we get in the cars that brought us to this winter wonderland, covered with more snow than nature provides, and motor back to our jobs and school and loves and lives, where it may really be all downhill from here.
But in this spot, filled with its cries of fear and joy muffled by buffs and backed by a soundtrack of music bumping from the lift shacks, it is all about the downhill. Speeding down the manufactured snow, overnight groomed to a precise corduroy greeting early morning riders then flattened to a smooth sheen by wax and dusk.
The smell of burgers on the grill and waffles on the iron envelop the rainbow of snowpants and jackets, traffic cones and the navy blue and high viz orange fences ensuring we are only going downhill where we are supposed to and not heading downhill where it may be a problem, for us or for them. Problematic downhills are for other places. Not here.
Here we are head-to-toe advertisements for the Northface, the resort, Burton, Solomon, K2, Spyder and the others, a rainbow billboard made up of thousands of people rather than pixels, carves instead of corners. Money changing hands in every building and on every surface; snow, wood floor, gravel lot, as the lift gears grind and, somewhere else, it is all downhill from here.
Inspired by the poetry class I am taking in which we were assigned to create a walking around poem where we describe our settings after reading Song of Myself by Walt Whitman and Allen Ginsberg’s Howl and Footnote to Howl
A Picture and a Poem 