From the hard-core Canadian magazine Skiier.
“According to the Associated Press, everything we suspected about British ski tourists is absolutely true. Of all the 18- to 24-year olds surveyed, more than two-thirds were fined for causing damage, more than half were asked to leave, and one-third got injured. Try as we might, we can’t make this shit up, people.”
I read this after stopping in at the mountain to get my boots fixed this morning. No British ski tourists. Only the East Coast firefighters on their annual day of high-jinx. (Some of the NYFD’s on-piste antics at Hunter were immortalized in last year’s Warren Miller movie, Higher Ground.)
It’s 9.15am when I pull up. To one side of my car, a half-dozen firefighters are hanging out drinking cans of Bud. On the other side of my car, another half-dozen firemen get out of their SUV and start swearing up a storm. One of them is particularly impatient about getting his crew’s show on the road.
“Let’s get in there,” he says, “and get a fucking drink.”
I don’t think he was referring to a hot chocolate.