The Unofficial Guide To Everything Ski Resorts Don't Want You To Know About PDF

Rants
From the
Mountain
Allan Saro
The Unofficial GUide To everyThinG Ski
reSorTS donT WanT yoU To knoW aboUT
Table of Contents
Preface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1
Intro . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3
chapter 1 Staying Warm . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9
When To Go . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12
Snowboarding vs. Skiing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14
Your First Lesson . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19
Ski School . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21
Basic Layout . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25
Facilities . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26
Where You Should Start . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27
Looters . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28
chapter 2 The bunny hill . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33
The Basics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37
Notes On Carving . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39
Rope Tow . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40
Sharing Is Caring . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41
The Green House . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42
Insurance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45
On Terms . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 46
chapter 3 The lift . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47
Getting On & Getting Off . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54
Unloading . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56
The Safety Bar . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 58
Lift Types . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 61
chapter 4 Parenting . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63
Helmets . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 66
Bloody Sunday . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67
Bullshit Parenting . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 71
Copyright 2012 Allan Saro
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 1475059221
ISBN 13: 9781475059229
Library of Congress Control Number: 2012905155
CreateSpace, North Charleston, SC
Preface
My life has changed considerably since I first wrote this book. I got
married, bought a house, and moved to the country. At the offset this
book has been very off putting to most readers. I understood that
when I first began to write it in October of 2011. My goal was never
to offend anyone. From the start I was trying my best to take on the
role of a ski resort lift operator and portray one as accurately as pos-
sible. In great detail I accomplished my goal. In my opinion this still
stands as the most accurate representation of a lift operators character
and moral compass. It is a fascinating world where rules and regula-
tions are extremely relaxed and people like this genuinely exist.
I wont pretend that I am turning a mirror on modern American
society or in particular the nineteen to thirty-two year old male demo-
graphic. I dont think liftee traits are exhibited very commonly; this
probably has a lot to do with the high turn over rate at ski resorts. As
fair warning this book is extremely sexually charged. Despite heavy
warning from not only my editor but also close friends and family I
still believe the content in this book is worth exploring. Some stories
have been switched, and most all character names have been changed
or modified. This is not a how to book for skiing or snowboarding. It
is 100 percent satire and should be taken as such. This book is laid out
into sections, easily accessed via the index. Its not designed to be read
all the way through, although that is possible. I put together the entire
archive of these notes after working at multiple ski resorts in New
York State, as well as visiting numerous ski resorts across America.
So without further ado, here are some rants from the mountain.

Stop organizing life around the people who dont get the joke.
Fuck them if they dont get a joke. Bill Maher
Stop Blaming Your Child . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74
Lifter Responsibility . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 75
The Leash . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77
chapter 5 Mountain life . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81
Join us . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87
chapter 6 your rights & other dark Tips . . . . . . . . . 101
How To Get A Liftee Fired . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103
Bringing Your Partner . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 104
Pussy Thief . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105
Season Length . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 106
How Snow Is Made . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107
Landscape Architecture . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107
Fun With The Lifts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109
Gaming The Lift Line . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 112
chapter 7 Ski Patrol . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 115
The Gray Area . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 118
The Real Statistics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 120
Its Just A Job & Youre Not Signing The Checks . . . . . . . . . . 123
Behind The Scenes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125
Getting Clipped . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 126
Customer Service . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127
The Summit . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 132
chapter 8 The Money Shot.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .135
Intro
The first time I experienced a prostate orgasm was at four oclock
in the morning, in my apartment in Orange County, New York. I
had met Claire twelve hours prior, for a movie date. Thirty-eight,
blonde hair, dark brown eyes, and a very expensive rack, Claire was
what I called an easy lunch. A woman that is inexplicably bored with
her life. Despite doing everything everyone has told her to do, she is
woefully unhappy. She went to college, married a lawyer, bought a
fancy house, a white German-engineered car, and held a firm belief
that all minorities were genuinely below her. Now, with a house full
of kids and a husband who is full of shit, she finds herself scram-
bling to find some sort of individualistic identity. This is typically
done through self-help books that base their science on fairy tales,
like Christianity, or pagan religions like Christianity. They cling to
the dry pages of the horoscope section, gabbing about Kathy and
Ted over Starbucks with their equally shallow friends. They are the
scared sheep that your average liftee typically preys on.
A few hours after Claire and I met, we had both taken enough
drugs to tranquilize a small elephant and found ourselves sitting
topless in a playground across the street from my apartment. She
was dangling on a frost-covered swing in her bra, attempting her
best impression of someone who was still high. I grabbed her by the
arm and began to walk her up to my apartment, and much to my
surprise she attempted to refuse the advance.
Oh no, sorry kid, but Im not ready for that yet, she said with
a laugh.
Tough shit, bitch, youre getting fucked tonight one way or the
other, I thought to myself, before smiling. Just some tea, to make
sure youre up for the drive.
Rants From the Mountain
4
Intro
5
even remember if I took a shower before I left for work three hours
later. I probably didnot to get the smell of shame and weed off of
myself, but to de-thaw my extremities. My apartment was always
baking hot for the most part; heat and hot water was included in
the rent. But the night Claire and I met up was so freezing the cold
seeped through the cracks and into my empty apartment.
I didnt have time for breakfast, but I must have scarfed some-
thing down out of necessity. Your body burns through an immense
amount of calories when youre in the freezing cold, shoveling snow
and tipping chairs all day. The majority of that night is a blur. I wish
I could claim it was a rare and wondrous experience, but it wasnt.
It was business as usual, and the most memorable thing about it
wasnt butt-fucking some assholes trophy wife, it was the insidi-
ous cold that painfully crept through my thick winter jacket, sting-
ing me from the inside out. I can remember the ice crystals that
formed in my nose from my snot freezing, clenching my hand into
a fist, changing my gloves every ten minutes, and huddling around
a dinky heater in one of the liftee shacks. I struggle to remember
a lot of little thingslike my phone number, address, or date of
birthbut I will absolutely never forget the horrific cold that was
the mountain. Enduring the brutal temperatures so soccer moms,
plump dads, and bratty kids could bomb the slopes in relative com-
fort. I can remember the backbreaking work that was thanklessly
looked over by my pampered, incompetent masters.
Working as a ski lift operator is a ruthless job. There have been
ex-military members that have folded on the mountain. It takes a
special kind of man to work a lift. A gut-filled brute, with no fear,
no trepidation, and no weakness. But, unfortunately for the rela-
tively inept owners, I wasnt that kind of man. To the core I am a
weasel, a punk, a selfish prick that spent more time trying to insem-
inate the jailbait at the resort then even considering doing my job.
My main concern was getting the tip of my dick wet, I wasnt about
Youre sweet, she said, returning the smile.
Now I had to wait another hour before she convinced herself
she wasnt a slut for having sex with me on the first date. I pulled
out a beer, and began to pour her a shot.
What happened to tea? she asked.
Stop, I said shortly, handing her a tall glass of vodka with a
shot of cranberry juice in it.
She just shrugged and pulled her purse closer to her. I have
something in here for you, actually.
A dildo? I asked.
She burst into fake laughter. Youre so funny, thats what I love
about you, you make me feel so young again. No, not a dildo
these. She pulled out two small pills.
Where did you get them? I asked.
The mountain, actually, she said, Lil Malcolmy gave them to
me. I think he has a crush.
Cool, I said, grabbing one and washing it down with the rest
of my beer. Thanks Malcolmy, Ill cum once on her face for you.
The rest of the night went by in a flash, and with only four hours
before my shift at the mountain started, Claire pulled the strap-on
out of my ass and retreated into the bathroom. I was excited for the
contorted faces and grossed-out looks my coworkers would give
me when I recounted the story. Recounting a tally was common
for liftees, not so much for me. I wasnt desperate to paint myself
as a threat to the other pseudo-alpha males, but to the uninitiated
try-hards it was commonplace to brag about nailing a cafe girl, ski
school instructor, or customer. This, however, was the exception to
the rule. I had felt Claires infamous black rubber cock inside my
assI was finally a true liftee.
As she walked away I caught a glimpse of her breasts from
behind, fake but clearly worth every penny. I dont remember her
coming back from the bathroom, or leaving shortly after. I cant
6
Intro
7
I didnt feel quite so beaten after shoving down a plate of eggs and
home fries.
We then began to exchange lighthearted stories of techniques
and empty promises of how often we would frequent the mountain.
We planned out season rentals, where we could get them, we even
looked into the cost of season lift tickets. But there was something
missing from our conversation, we both avoided the topic like we did
black diamond-rated trails. Despite our neglect, though, it was still
there. Deep down it was the real reason neither of us would actually
get into the sport for the next few seasons: we just didnt belong.
While she understood the culture, she didnt have the swagger
to partake or fit in. While I had the swagger, I am a douche-bag, and
the culture rejected me (rightfully so) like a virus. The liftees saw
me coming a mile away and made comments as I was being loaded
onto the lift. Probably telling one another how they were planning
to fuck my girlfriend. The customers treated us like a major incon-
venience, two obstacles in the way of their good time. We were
newbies, and for the entire time we spent attempting to carve we
felt alienated. It was like the first day of school, when everyone
seemed like they already knew each other, and we werent invited.
We only revisited the mountain a handful of times over the
next few years. Each time, we latched on to each other like brother
and sister, sharing inside jokes on the school bus, trying our best to
avoid the gaze of any bullies. I felt powerless, and Im sure she felt
ashamed I was her mate. A lacking weakling, struggling to stand up
next to the much younger heroes of the mountain. Kids half my age
that would shoot by onto ramps, kissing the tail end of grind rails
without effort. It was no better for her either. Seasoned ski bun-
nies, wearing skin-tight penetrate me now suits would dash by,
giving her a mocking glance. What little confidence we both had
was swiftly beaten out of us every time we fell. In retrospect, it was
kind of a dark exercise in abuse.
to stand around and freeze my ass off for minimum wage, fuck that.
No liftee actually fulfilled his job description, and those that did
were taken advantage of, ridiculed, and outcast by other liftees.
I wasnt always such a lazy little prick, though. I used to be
great. You might be wondering why. Why I am such a bitter douche-
bag? And there is of course an origin story, every great hero has
oneBatman, Spiderman, Superman, even The Green Lantern.
Luckily, super villains have them too. Here is mine:
The first time I tried to snowboard I was around nineteen
years old, trying desperately to impress my girlfriend at the time, a
Vermont-grown cowgirl. She had little more experience than I did
at the sport, but far more skill. I left the mountain beaten, cold,
and sore, slamming into her car, a slightly used Toyota Camry Sport
Edition (the kind of car typical of junior boring housewivesTodd
and I arent boring! Were going kayaking, next weekend, then rock
climbing the weekend after that, then w The cycle goes on and
on and on, until one day you wake up and realize youve been fill-
ing your time with busywork, running out the clock before you
die. Because youre shit scared of asking yourself real questions, in
fear of finding out the truth. Socialist really translates to hes a
fucking black man, and I cant stand a black man is the President of
the United States of America. Your house, and German-made car,
are really a prison of your own design, and while theyre very nice
prisons, the second you stop working your job you will be unable to
make the payments. If youre unable to make the payments, youll
lose your house, your car, andwhat matters mostyour status
over everyone else. Youre already dead, you might as well start
fucking as many underage girls as you can get your hands on before
the clock runs out.) I put on the heated seats and instantly began
to feel my body beginning to defrost. Shortly after, we stopped at a
diner. Comfort food helps after having your ass handed to you, and
8
Chapter 1
Staying Warm
When it comes to skiing and riding, Im amateur at best. But a few
tips tend to wear off on you after cumming inside a few ski school
instructors. So communicating the basics is fairly easy. I should say
off the bat, while you might be able to learn how to ski or ride from
a book, I cannot. Im sure there are plenty of books out there that
are more than capable of giving you a few how-to tips, and I would
encourage you to glance at them. I would recommend one or two
in particular, but in fear of being sued for mentioning any respected
authors and/or publishers in these pages, Ill refrain. I have set aside
a few recommendations at allanSaro.com/Ski-instruction.
What I absolutely encourage is that everyone gets a lesson. Im as
cheap as the next guy, probably cheaper, actually. I let paper towels
dry so I can use them again to dry my hands, that is how cheap I am.
And still I cant recommend getting a lesson enough.
I have seen time and time again barneys (novice skiers or riders)
hurting themselves and worse yet embarrassing themselves on the
towrope or even the lifts, while attempting to learn. Please, dont
get me wrong, I enjoy seeing some fat forty-year-old spiral out of
control and injure small children just as much as the next prick. By
all means, if you could care less about other people and just think
youre better than everybody else, skip the lesson, you have a lovely
religion just the same, I wish the Jewish people no ill will.
What you absolutely shouldnt do is strap on your gear and rush
to the bunny hill expecting a liftee to give you a lesson. Saying the
words, Hey Im new, do you have any tips for a beginner? isnt
cool. A liftees internal answer will always be the same: No, my job
I find it difficult to believe that Im the only one who felt that
way. I know deep down weve all felt alienated and out of place on
the slopes. That was my motivation when applying for a job at my
local ski resort. I had come back to conquer the beast and serve
up some revenge. My intent was never to write a book about the
place, I was just looking to kick back and enjoy the slopes in my
spare time. Meet some new people, make a new family. But after
mastering a few tricks, rising ranks amongst my fellow liftees, and
fucking half a dozen high school students, I figured this would make
an immense read. While some names, events, and times have been
changed around to hide the true identity of characters in this book,
everything you are about to read is true. So without further ado,
these are all the rants from the mountain.
10
Staying Warm
11
Practice makes perfect, if youre serious about getting good,
one or two runs a day isnt gonna cut it. Neither will one or two
trips a year. Getting a season pass is something you should definitely
consider. Wait for the pre-season offers, you can typically garnish a
pass for half the price. Also consider the length of your trip. A few
hours is a waste. By the time you get into the swing of things youre
packing up and going home. A few full day trips in the beginning of
the season will help you get your bearings.
Keep in mind you shouldnt leave the bunny hill until youre
comfortable stopping and turning. Being able to get off the lift with-
out falling is always a concern, but with a few easy tips that dread
should be fairly alleviatedmore on that to come. When mastering
proper turning and stopping fundamentals, attempt to find a resort
with a relatively smooth bunny hill; you want enough speed to keep
you entertained, but not enough to bring you wildly out of con-
trol. Keep in mind there is a trail-ranking system, defined more in
detail at allanSaro.com/rants-Trailrating. Green is the easi-
est rating, most all bunny hills (with few exceptions) are rated at the
green difficulty level. One of the biggest questions and misconcep-
tions Ive found is that people are convinced (reasonably so) that,
despite the bunny hill and a trail both being rated green, the trail
will invariably be more difficult. This is not the case; the trails are
rated by what their actual difficulty is. It is absolutely true that ski
resorts rate their own trails and that can be a little nerve wracking.
However, if a ski resort ranks their trails incorrectly, it opens
them up to be sued, so there is strong incentive for them to mark
the trails accordingly. It might be worth noting that the color/shape
system used in North America does differ from other countries, so
I urge you to take a look at the trail ratings article Ive linked above
if youre planning on doing any out-of-country skiing.
In most all cases, green trails are just extended versions of the bunny
hill. The fear factor comes into play when boarding a lift for the first
is to operate the lift, not teach you and your pathetic spawn how to ski. Pay
for a lesson, you cheap asshole. Because if I catch you or your kid trying to
mount the tow rope without proper instruction, Im groping little Timmy and
youre gonna be sitting in a face-to-face with the schools guidance counselor
explaining where he learned such behavior, in about two years time.
But to save time, the likely response will be a quick explanation
of the valuable service ski school can provide. Its nothing personal.
If I was any good at skiing or snowboarding I wouldnt be a liftee,
I would be teaching ski school, surrounded by nubile high school
girls. If you are hell-bent on learning how to ski or ride, there is no
easy quick route. What small advice I can give you is this.
Far too often, people rent their equipment, do a couple of runs,
then decide its too cold out and head inside. Please consider the
followingits cold on the mountain, really cold, insanely cold,
way colder than you have ever experienced, so dress in layers.
Things like gloves and a hat are an absolute must. Granted, you will
be much warmer than the average liftee if youre out carving pow-
der, but it still gets nasty. Whats worse, the lift ride up is freezing.
The sweat around your body catches the cold air, which is plenti-
ful when youre dangling from a chair eighty feet high, alongside
a snow- and ice-covered mountain. Also, assuming you are unable
to game the line, youll have to stand around in the cold, for up to
fifteen minutes sometimes. So by the time you get to the lift, your
sweat has cooled down and youre already feeling the cold hit you.
To give you an idea of exactly how cold it is, check out the
snow cannons that line the trails. If theyre up and running at full
blast it is at least eighteen degrees Fahrenheit (minus eight Celsius).
Typically, the colder it is, the harder the cannons will be run
ski resorts seldom find themselves with enough snow provided by
Mother Nature, so any chance they get to pump it out, they take.
With that in mind, thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit is freezing, so if
snow is being made its at least ten to fifteen degrees below freezing.
12
Staying Warm
13
time. As well as dealing with the reality that you arent sure where the
lift leads. Yeah, you checked the trail map, and it seems ok, youve even
double-checked with the liftee and he told you it was green, but the
chair is taking you awfully high and youre starting to get worried. Fret
not! The reality is, even if youre on a blue-rated trail, as long as you can
stop and turn, you will make it down with little effort. You might not
make it down with extreme dignity or grace, but you should be just fine.
The only difference between a green trail at the top of the lift and the
bunny hill is length. There are also very few lifts in North America that
just drop you on the top of a black diamond trail. Unless youre carving
into the lift dock with perfect precision in a pair of top-end Olympic
skis, the lift operators will caution you about the severity of the slope.
Hundreds of thoughts will race through your mind as the chair takes you
higher and higher. Youll envision a ninety-degree angle lined with razor-
sharp ice and rock; a weary mountain worker wandering up to your
friends inquiring, They didnt go up to crows peak did they? Only four
people have ever survived that trail! Worse yet, this might be reinforced
by Chad and Brit on the chair ahead of you. Seeing them doing a spin and
coolly slide off the lift like experts will make you feel out of place.
But instead when you reach the top of the mountain you will
find a flat surface with a few benches, there will be people congre-
gating and examining the different trail-rating signs, deciding which
one they want to try. Rest assured, that nightmare scenario of mak-
ing it to the top only to be released straight onto a black diamond
trail with a huge crowd of expert skiers and riders watching your
every move just doesnt happen. Youre unloaded with the rest of
the newbies and given plenty of time to catch your breath, get your
bearings, and decide what gentle trail you want to take down.
When To Go
Now the other concern is when to go. Perhaps you want to be
around a swarm of people, so in case anything goes wrong help will
never be too far away. Or maybe you prefer to practice in down
times, away from prying, judgmental eyes. Either way Im sure you
dont want to be jam-packed in a crowd of people, suffering through
long queues filled with penis wrinkles. There are apt times for both.
If you want vacant hills, no lines, and plenty of fresh powder
to yourself, just use common sense. There are actual magical days
to go, just as with every business; there are down times. Typically,
weekdays a few weeks after the start of the seasonto be more
specific, the middle of January for some reason is a very quiet time.
Its worth noting you should absolutely never show up on a holiday
weekend. Every holiday weekend is complete anarchy. Not Black
Friday anarchy, Im talking true constipation. It takes one to two
hours to even get a lift ticket, lift lines are typically twenty to thirty
minutes long, and parking is a forty-five minute job if youre lucky.
Its also worth noting here that resorts very seldom offer refunds, so
if youre planning on getting into skiing or snowboarding, going on
a holiday weekend will most likely leave you frustrated and unhappy
with the sport. The best days are when everyone is at work, or when
the weather is extremely uncomfortable. If you go during a light
drizzle, the mountain will be empty. You arent going to find ideal
powder, but cruising through a mist-covered mountain at eight p.m.
with the only light coming from huge floodlights is pretty amazing.
However, at all cost, avoid weekends and avoid holidays! Its worth
repeating.
If youre interested in moderate foot traffic when you first try
skiing or riding, you should stick to night skiing. It will typically
start later in the season, in sync with the school calendar. This is
generally for school ski teams, or parents dropping their kids off at
the mountain as a makeshift daycare.
Really your best bet by far is to schedule a week off, buy a
week-long pass, and have at it. Try not to buy a season pass at a
resort youve only been to once or twice. I suggest week-long
14
Staying Warm
15
passes because they save you money versus buying a pass each time
you go. Its a good idea to get a feel for the resort, how the liftees
are, what management is like, and how they maintain their slopes.
Take baby steps and try to progress slowly. Ive found the method of
on a few days, off a few days is the best way to learn. Although you
might be different and prefer to go every day possible.
Snowboarding vs. Skiing
Fifteen minutes until rotation. I hadnt made any progress with Dylan,
just a slight rubbing of her knee as conversation drifted awkwardly
on and off. If I was going to make my move I had to make it now. I
leaned over and started to make out with her, and she did the typi-
cal look away and act surprised thing that young girls do. I quickly
pressed further, hoping to stay as cinematic as possible as I felt her
up. She was going with it, no fucking way. I frantically began to reach
under her shirt, anxious to feel around and grab whatever goodies I
could while I still had the chance.
I had smoked a petite joint the second I got into the booth, so
the smell would be gone when the liftee relieving me showed up. It
could have been the weed, or the two beers I had at lunch, but my
concern for discretion at this point was gone. I was peeking up ran-
domly to check on the long line of people dismounting the lift. But
now? Now that my hand had snaked under her bright pink sports
bra? All gloves were off. If I was going to make this happen I had to
roll the dice and go for it.
Dylan, Im guessing, had done this before, because her clothes
came off quick without trepidation. I was in shock, complete
shockI had balls, seriously, my confidence had given me a fairly
impressive track record thus far. I had fucked strippers, models,
women twice my age, many seventeen-year-olds, even my twenty-
five-year-old bio teacher when I was in the ninth grade. But
this? This was an entirely different level. If I got busted for this, I
wouldnt be yelled at, have my hours cut, or even get fired. I would
go to fucking prisonnot jail, where you work out and make a few
friends, but prison. I would be getting slammed in the ass by serious
criminals who look at a pathetically delicate white boy like me as
fresh meat. But then, thats what being an American is all about. Its
about taking chances and living in the spirit of entrepreneurialism. I
saw an opportunity and rolled the dice. In a way, by having sex with
that young woman, I was helping not only our economy but the true
spirit of America.
I slammed, sucked, and fucked every part of Dylans teenage
body that I could get my greasy hands on. I didnt care if Ski Patrol
was about to walk in on us, if the next liftee was pounding on the
door, or if a little kid was being trampled to death by the chairs, this
shit was going down. Four minutes before the next liftee was due
up to relieve me I pulled my cock out of Dylan and painted the state
of Hawaii on her tanned stomach.
I was fully expecting to be fired afterwards, I was just hoping I
wouldnt go to jail. When I wiped my cock off on my hoody, I was
expecting to look out of the lift shack and see Ski Patrol calling the
police. I threw on what clothes I could and hurried her to get dressed
before popping my head up and peeking out at the unloading ramp.
Nobody was there, just calm people waving as they casually
skied off with a smile. Ski Patrol wasnt marching up to put me in
custody or anything, just a lush blue sky, and the quiet creak of the
bull wheel as lift chairs went by. I checked my watch again, two
minutes before my relief was coming up, he was probably already
on his way.
I think Im in love, I said smoothly.
Really? Dylans face lit up.
Ive never met anyone as incredible as you. Will you Facebook
me when you get home? I asked.
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Of course! she said, beaming.
She wasnt getting the hint, though, and I was out of time. I hit
the slow button, bringing our busiest lift to a crawl.
Alright, you need to get out of here, I said. Otherwise Im
gonna be in serious trouble.
Oh, she said with a tone of disappointment. Ok cool, Ill
message you tonight.
Thanks Dylan, youre the best. I kissed her on the forehead
and opened the door to the cabin.
FUCK! In the distance I could see Kevin coming up to relieve
me from my spot.
Oh no, Im gonna get fired, I said.
She looked genuinely concerned. Why?
You cant be caught here! I replied urgently.
Oh, okay! She clipped in her snowboard in seconds and leapt
off the side of the liftee shack. Sliding down icy snow and gliding
across the flat terrain to the tip of a black diamond trail. I hadnt
realized how good she was until just now.
Kevin dropped off the lift as I watched Dylan look back, catch-
ing a glimpse of her nose ring. Kevin banged on the window.
Whats up? he said, confused.
Oh sorry, man, I replied, pulling the slow switch out and
returning the lift to normal speed. Malcolm radioed in and asked
me to slow the lift for awhile, theyre trying to fix the gear down
below.
Cool beans, said Kevin. You hear about the Weasel?
No, what happened? I asked casually, as I put my gloves and
thick winter jacket on.
I guess he got in trouble for yelling at a bunch of snowboard-
ers. These guys were trying to ride the lift without a shirt, and he
screamed at them.
That fat fucking moron, I replied. I hope he gets fired, hes
such a useless sack of shit.
Kevin laughed. All of management has been in the office with
him for the past half hour, looks pretty serious.
Ah well, what can ya do? Some people are just bad seeds. I
opened the door and walked over to catch my ride down the moun-
tain. Slow the lift for me?
Kevin nodded, and I was off.
I leapt over the safety bar and jumped a few feet into the air.
The metal chair scooped me up and I started the long ride down.
The quick conversation made me feel better. If there was a lynch
mob at the bottom of the lift, he wouldnt have been so cool about
everything. Could it have been? Pure serendipity? Was a special
angel looking out for me? Id like to think so. As my load popped
over Dylans perfectly flat tummy (one squirt on the edge of her
tits), Id like to think there was an angel there looking out for me,
keeping me safe. I dont know a lot about Christianity, but from
what news headlines Ive read, they sure do seem good at covering
up child molestation, so Id like to think maybe God had a special
plan for me that day.
Believe it or not, Dylan never messaged me, or even friended
me on Facebook. I never actually saw her again after that day, and
for a while I wondered if police would come storming onto the
mountain ready to cuff me. But in true snowboard spirit and style,
the little tramp kept her mouth shut, and ever since then Ive been
a sucker for snowboarders.
Its in their DNA to make mischief. The very idea of snow-
boarding is rebelling against the status quo. Its fucking the much
older lift operator you just met without a condom, smoking what-
ever he hands you without first inquiring what it is, and doing black
diamond-rated trails without a helmet.
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No doubt the largest contributing factor that draws people
towards it is being a rebel. This, then, is the largest debate among
the old guard and the new. Liftees of yesteryear tend to have a fond-
ness for a time before snowboarding, when the mountain was much
like a golf course. A gentlemanly place where courteous mountain-
goers could rejoice in the soothing calm of snow. But now that
snowboarders have come, its become a dreadful place! People go
faster, take more risk, have no respect for others or even basic com-
mon courtesy. Worst of all, mountains are even letting inwait for
itpoor people!
Really there are arguments on both sides, and the debate is
soon fizzling out to become a moot preference. Much like gay mar-
riage, a lot of angry people arent sure if they themselves are com-
fortable with snowboarding, so they decide to demonize it. Despite
their best efforts, though, one day in the very near future its gonna
just be accepted, and much to their dismay, their kids will prob-
ably become snowboarders. Skiers dont like that snowboarders are
risky and disrespectful, which is fair, but the flip side is that snow-
boarders are the reason the sport is still alive, and without them
skiing would most likely die off altogether.
Without the Shaun Whites of the world encouraging the culture
of rebellion, kids would stop snowboarding, parents would stop
buying lift tickets, and resorts would shut down. Its a hard stretch
to imagine, but check out any ski resort and do a comparison of
how many skiers versus snowboarders you see on the mountain.
Now imagine if all the snowboarders were gone. From a monetary
position, your costs are still the same, but half your profits are gone.
Skiing needs snowboarding more than it cares to admit, and
in return snowboarding needs skiing. Without the devil, God is a
moot pointrebels need something to rebel against, and lazy peo-
ple need someone to blame when they arent dedicated enough to
learn to ski.
If youre used to ridingi.e., you ride a skateboard, long-
board, or surfyou should probably go for a snowboard. If youre
just starting out you might want to try skiing. The general rule of
thumb is as follows: snowboarding is hard to learn and easy to mas-
ter, whereas skiing is easy to learn and nearly impossible to master.
Its very difficult to ever get bored with the sport, as it is consis-
tently evolving and changing. Currently there are more than five
different popular types of skiing.
My time on the mountain has showed me that the majority of
riders also ski, and the majority of skiers also ride. Personally, I find
a snowboard easier, because in the off-season I longboard and surf.
Ive been able to implement them all together as cross-training for
one another. If it makes absolutely no difference to you, though, I
would say go for skiing. Its easier to learn and you will probably
get more runs in your first day out. Conceptually, people tend to
struggle with snowboards more than skis; having both feet locked in
is counterintuitive. There are minor safety tips for both sports that
I can provide, but Ill get into that later.
Your First Lesson
The first time I got a snowboarding lesson, a little Jewish boy
patiently assisted me down the bunny hill, teaching me to stop and
turn. It was a fifty-dollar lesson at the ski resort that would one day
employ me. I had no idea the quality of the lesson, or the resort.
Knowing what I do now, I would have picked a different resort and
asked for a different instructor. I was grateful, though, that it wasnt
an impatient douche-bag or obnoxious anti-gay fourteen-year-old.
This lesson wasnt bad, and years later, diving down black diamonds
in Vermont and California, it would be the groundwork on which
I would base my technique. When learning a new skill, ground-
work is critical, and especially in something as dangerous as skiing
and snowboarding. While Ive tried many sports and am convinced
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surfing is still the most dangerous (mainly because its the only
sport Ive ever heard of where theres a chance a huge predator can
emerge from nowhere and eat you), snowboarding and skiing are
still pretty brutal. There would be at least three helicopters a week,
there to airlift injured kids out. To be fair, a lot of this was due to the
poorly run resort, but a good portion is just because of the actual
sport.
Learning from a book isnt ideal, but if youre comfortable with
it, thats fine. (I would suggest getting a proper skiing book, though,
not a bitter adolescent douche-bags book, like mine.) Hell, even
searching for a few videos about the proper fundamentals is good
enough. Once you have some kind of grasp of the fundamentals, go
ahead and hit the bunny hill.
Now the tricky bit about learning to ride is that its based on
the patience of the ski lift operator and Ski Patrol. If youre Jewish
or Puerto Rican (which for some reason have a sense of entitle-
ment, too. I say some reason because whats the last great thing
youve used that was invented by a Puerto Rican? Exactly.) youll
want to pay close attention here, as it can save you a few bucks
and simultaneously inconvenience everyone else around you. Hot
women can skate by, but men really cant. At any moment if Ski
Patrol thinks youre a danger to others, he can have you removed
from the mountain. So if youre flying wildly out of control on a
trail youll probably be asked to leave. Women, on the other hand,
wont really have that problem. This also comes into play when rid-
ing the lift. Male mountain-goers tend to wear the patience of male
lift operators a bit faster.
We might smile, in fear of getting fired, but while youre flop-
ping around in the loading bay like a fish on the deck of a fishing
boat, with a huge crowd of pissed-off people behind you, my inter-
nal monologue is as follows:
You, sir, are a fuck-tard. I know you dont think its that dif-
ficult, or you can just get the hang of it, and while you might be
right, nobody wants to stand in line behind you while you fall all
the fuck over yourself like an asshole. Stop laughing to try and hide
your embarrassment. Stop lying there with an awkward smile and
expression of whew, this mountain is really whipping my butt
and get the fuck up and out of everyone elses way. There are other
people in the world, you self-absorbed waste of space, and some of
those people have kids that want to learn how to ski. I hope your
kids get cancer and your wife dies from grief. Then you end up
heartbroken, licking the side of a tranns dick. Not because youre
gay, but because you need to be degraded by another man in order
to feel a release of control from your horrifically failed life; just for
a few moments. Enjoy the seven minutes of freedom, or however
long it takes Richina to cum.
Now let me clarify, if you do get a lesson, most liftees couldnt
be more encouraging. Naturally then, youll want one, but who
really will be teaching you, your children, and wife?
Ski School
Saying that ski instructors are abused is a bit of a stretch, but they
are absolutely taken advantage of. I always assumed they were well
paid, and it wasnt until pillow-talk one evening with the top ski
instructor at my resort, Leah, that I learned otherwise. She was
an Olympic skier in training until she injured her knee and had to
give up the dream. Being born into money and a small amount of
fame (her father is a security guard to the stars, his most recent cli-
ent being Robert Pattinson from Twilight) she was a trophy child of
sorts. I always thought of her more as a thoroughbred race horse
than an actual kid. On the mountain she was by far, hands down, the
best skier, the most promising snowboarder, and most requested
instructor. So one can imagine that a skill set such as hers demands a
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salary of epic proportions or at least a salary one can live off of. But
despite her being the highest paid instructor there and her being on
the mountain more than forty hours a week, she barely made more
than $160.00 a week.
When you buck off credentials as promising as hers, your mind
is at ease. Its no sweat to leave your small child in the capable hands
of the resort. Leah was a great instructor who personally helped me
improve my carve. But she isnt the mold upon which instructors
are crafted. Her absolute love for the sport and deep-rooted con-
nection to the mountain made her easy to take advantage of. While
there was a tinge of resentment in her voice as she callously spilled
the dirt on all of the shady business practices, she still seemed anx-
ious to talk.
There was Joey, he was an awesome instructor, she explained.
What happened to him? I asked. We were just finishing up
breakfast at a cafe a few blocks from my snowed-in apartment. I was
going through a list of questions I had in my mobile phone, trying to
find out if anyone had been wrongfully terminated.
They fired him for getting attacked, she said casually.
How do you fire someone for being attacked? Who was he
attacked by? I asked.
He was assaulted by another coworker randomly, she said. I
guess it was just a case of mistaken identity or something, but he
was beaten pretty badly.
Waiter? Can we get some beers? I had hit pure gold and was
going to be there awhile.
We gorged ourselves on good conversation until the snowfall
picked up and the cafe owner decided to close early. As we made the
hike back to my apartment through my sleepy town, I couldnt help
but ask her one last question.
Why are you still there if they treat you so badly?
Love, I guess. Its a fickle thing, she replied.
Will you leave? I asked.
Sure, I probably wont return next season, she said. Ill most
likely join the Air Force or something, anything to make my father
happy.
Itll be a sad day when that happens, I said
When that happens, she said with a smile, youll probably be
sport-fucking another random young girl.
True.
We walked back to my apartment and she left shortly after.
But what I got in return for our stolen day of romance was well
worth it. I got a chance to understand how ski resorts work. It was
like catching a glimpse of the monster. I finally got to see the dark
primal beast that was functioning within. Ski resorts were no better
than the banks or politicians. They are just like everyone else.
The real story with Joey the ski school instructor is that Joey
was viciously assaulted by another coworker. Because the resort was
in the wrong and failed to keep him safe, Joey could have sued the
pants off of them. So how did the resort handle this? They waited,
searching for any reason possible to fire him, and sure enough,
approximately a month after they allowed him to be assaulted, they
let him go.
In the grand scheme of things, there are far greater crimes being
committed. Corrupt Wall Street insiders bankrupting the economy,
even more corrupt politicians taking money behind closed doors
to protect the Wall Street crooks, and an ever-growing force that is
working to consolidate their power over the free world. S o
really, why care? Who really gives a fuck about ski resorts and how
they handle their employees?
Well, the way they handled poor Joey can actually speak to a
much greater point, which is what ski resorts really care about. Ski
resorts are solely in operation to make money. They want to take
money from the masses and avoid any kind of liability. If skirting
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safety measures to make a quick buck is possible, they will do it
with a smile on their face. (allanSaro.com/Safety-Gate)
Now the question How is it possible that the person youre
trusting with your immediate safety is an underpaid kid? has a clear
answer. The entire system is cleverly set up to exploit instructors.
Anyone good enough to apply for the spot of instructor has to have
an immense passion for the sport. Ski instructors dont get paid by
the hour, they get paid per lesson. They arent getting half of the
hundred bucks you paid for your lesson, one quarter, even one-
eighth. They get paid minimum wage, IF they get a lesson.
Instructors line up every hour like whores at a brothel for
potential barneys or the head ski instructor to walk the line
and pick them out. So if a ski instructor is very lucky, he or she
might get ten lessons or so a week. To top this all off, they are
expected to buy their own cherry red ski-school jacket. The sleek
jacket has the ski resorts logo emblazoned on the back and costs
a whopping $175. The average instructor has to work for three
weeks before they can even pay it offthats almost one-third of
the ski season.
Girl teachers are usually sweet, but oftentimes helpless. Boys
are like the kids from South Park. Im not joking, South Park is spot
on. Ive personally overheard numerous homophobic remarks,
along with impatient mocking, coming from instructors directed
at their students. I bring this up because you will most likely not
be standing by your child when you drop them off for a lesson.
Having a fourteen-year-old boy supervise your kid might not be
ideal, especially when there is serious risk of injury and the kid is
spouting out anti-gay, racist comments every other word.
Its a good idea to speak with a liftee in passing about which
instructors are best; I had no problem referring several custom-
ers to the cream of the crop. Instructors like Leah were hard to
find, but the inner circle of seasoned ski instructors and liftees
had a strong line of communication which we frequently used
to aid one another. At the end of the day, ski instructors are just
like everyone else: regular people who are working for mini-
mum wage, more concerned with the day being over than your
immediate safety. Dont trust them.
Basic Layout
There are many different departments, with many different respon-
sibilities on the mountain. Knowing the difference between them
will help you decide whom to go to if you have a question or a
problem. All of which I will cover in more detail later, but for now
Ill just provide a brief rundown.
Ski Patrol - If you are hurt or injured theyre the ones to talk
to. You can hail them by making an X with your skis in the snow. If
you happen to be on a snowboardwell, then youre fucked and
will most likely perish in an icy tomb, alone. Next time pick a more
civilized sport, you trendy douche.
Lift Operator (Liftee) - The people that operate, slow, and
stop the lifts. They are also in charge of keeping the lifts running
smoothly, making sure plenty of snow stays on the loading/unload-
ing area. On occasion they are even known to work the line (which
I will explain how to game later on).
Cafe/Lodge Employees - The employees that spend the majority of
their time in the lodge. They are the ones in charge of making and pre-
paring the awesome food smell being blown across the mountain. You
know the cheeseburger that will force you to refinance your mortgage?
Ski Instructors - They are the ones providing the lesson. They
typically dress in uniforms or at least in uniform colors. Technically,
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you can ask them a question, but your best bet is to ask office
workers.
Owners - There isnt such a thing. Its extremely rare to find a
privately owned ski resort. They are mostly state owned. I know,
trippy shit, right?
Mountain Ops - The people on the mountain operation crew
are like the construction workers/handymen of the mountain. They
are the ones hanging lights, fixing busted heaters, and greasing lifts.
They hold more authority than liftees and are typically charged
with managing them.
Facilities
Food - There really is no good reason to buy food at any ski resort.
Even if you have the money to burn, the food is altogether reheated
junk food. A common theory among consumers is that the resorts
intentionally vent the cafe in strategic spots, so the smell of food
will blow out onto the mountain. Yes, not only is this done, but the
type of food they cook is specifically chosen because of its strong
odor. Lunch for a single person at a ski resort will cost you about
sixteen dollars, and its not like youre getting fine dining or even
cheap dining, its flat-out fast food. A stale pretzel will cost you
three bucks, a soda about the same, and forget main courses. You
can always walk into the lodge with your own meal and eat. You
dont have to buy something to eat in their lodge, and even if you
do, I doubt the rule would be enforced. Ski resorts are a business
designed to milk every last penny, and the lodge is no exception, so
bring your own lunch. Youve been warned.
Bathrooms - Most all ski resort bathrooms are horrific.
Seriously, Im not sure what the fuck causes them to be so gross,
but they are vomit-inducing shit holes that rival hospital laundry
rooms after the elderly wards sheet change. So if you have any kind
of phobia of public washrooms youre in a bad way. But not all is
lost. A lot of ski resorts tend to have bars or taverns. On weekends,
holidays, and weeknights, parents need a place to come and drink
while their kids are out shredding. The best bit is that these bars
always have bathrooms, and they are always kept fairly clean.
Where You Should Start
Location certainly is one of the hardest problems to cope with.
Most people follow the religion they do because of happy coinci-
dence in location. So to avoid the closest ski resort in favor of a
better one is a hard decision to make, to say the least. You can throw
your gear in the family Subaru, Volkswagen, or whatever other
yuppie-mobile you most likely own (undoubtedly decked out with
Apple stickers) and head up to the mountain, but I would recom-
mend against that.
First you should start with Google. Check out the resort youre
headed to, read the reviews, and get a rough idea of the trail maps
and each respective lift and which trails they take you to. Its rare to
find a lift that just drops you off at the top of a black diamond, but
rest assured, theyre out there. Take a few minutes and research the
layout of the resort. Be sure to check the weather, how cold it will
get, and when. If it will or will not snow, what time the snow will
start, and ask yourself if youre comfortable driving the long (or
short, but in most cases long) distance home after a day of carving.
See what programs the resort offers, and find out about getting a
lesson. Believe it or not, watching the entire Shaun White interview
on 60 Minutes doesnt make you a pro snowboarder. Its important
to research and implement proper techniques. Keep in mind that
if you dont have your skis or snowboard already, rental businesses
do exist. If youre planning to spend the season on the slopes, you
should drop the $150 (in some cases even less) for the year-long
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rental. That way you can beat and abuse the newbie gear all you
want and take your time getting comfortable.
Once you have an idea of what you like, you can purchase
your own equipment. Another option is to wait until after closing
at any large ski resort and take the leftover gear. I assure you it
happens all the time. Just walk up to the gear with enough con-
fidence, load it into your car without thinking twice, and drive
away. If you are stopped, just say you thought it was your board,
and apologize profusely for any confusion. If there are only four
riders on the mountain and there are a pair of skis just sitting
there fifteen minutes past closing, they were probably left there.
Be careful they arent Ski Patrols or another employees, how-
ever. I once snatched a set of skis only to be chased down in the
parking lot.
Once you arrive, you should purchase your ticket, be sure to
get a map, and head to the slopes. I always recommend hiking up
the bunny hill at least once, just to get back your bearings from the
previous season. Once comfortable, you can hit up the lifts, but
before you do, be sure to read the section titled Lifts.
Special Note On Ski Patrol: They absolutely have every right to tell
you to leave the mountain, but if they do catch you stealing or doing
anything else you arent supposed to, they are not allowed to detain
you. Just like everywhere else, the only people allowed to detain
you are police officers. They can threaten to call the police and they
can claim they have authority to detain you, but in reality you have
every right to walk away, and should.
Looters
One of the most amazing things about any ski resort is the vast
ecosystems that it holds. There are numerous cultures and cliques
that associate with one another, so many that Im sure even I am not
aware of all of them. It seems nearly impossible to track down every
bit of scum that lingers on the mountain, but every once in a while
you stumble upon a tiny subculture worth talking about.
I was in my car taking my hour break. I should note that we only
get half an hour, but when it was extremely busy, they would be too
occupied to keep track of who was where. This typically resulted in
hour-long breaks in which I would routinely retire to my car to jerk
off and text the small fleet of teens I met on the mountain.
I observed a lot of things from the warm cockpit of my Subaru.
It was by far the best spot to catalogue the fresh ski-bunny pussy
that was migrating its way into my playground. But mid-jerk I hap-
pened to catch a rental guy walking to his car.
The fuck are you doing out of the rental lodge, pigfucker? Get back
where you belong, readying barneys for the mountain.
This particular rental guy was the son of :e-... o.e +.o-
Doris!, who took her job insanely seriously. Son Alex, however, did
not. He nonchalantly walked over to his car and threw a snow-
board in the back. This was weird, but he was doing it with confi-
dence. I sat watching for another fifteen minutes. I was due back at
my station a half hour ago, but thought it was best I stayed put to
keep a watchful eye. (Also to finish rubbing one out, but some old
douche-bag walked by my car before I could cum.) Now I would
have to wait for another scantily dressed preteen to run by with her
neglectful, equally scantily dressed mother.
(Yeah, thats right. Grown men fantasize about having sex with
your little girl. Think its fucked up? Stop letting them dress like
prostitutes and grown women, you fucking asshole. Theyre not
grown up, theyre not fashion accessories or pets, theyre little girls.
They should be concerned with ponies, flowers, and rainbows, not
dressing like a sex object. Youre a disgusting piece of shit for allow-
ing your daughter to dress like that. On behalf of all the parents out
there with daughtersthe real parents, who want their daughter to
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grow up in a world where her value is beyond whats between her
legsFuck You.)
I was getting ready to cum into an old sock I found in the back
seat of my Subaru. But before I could, some asshole stepped in front
of the teenage ass I was concentrating on. It was another rental guy!
He appeared out of nowhere carrying a set of skis off the mountain.
It was busy and he was coming from the most western chair lift at
the resort, the Borlick. He began to stack the skis into the back of
the same car. This was fishy. I decided to do my duty and observe for
another hour while the rental workers made their rounds back and
forth slowly collecting equipment from the mountain and loading it
into their cars. I finally realized what they were doing when my high
wore off and I headed back to my station.
My mind racing with excitement, I just realized how easy it was
to steal. They were looters, and I bring this up for one good reason:
you, too, can be a looter. Also, what the fuck, dude, Ive worked
that shitty-ass job for a whole month before figuring out I could
steal like crazy? I was pissed.
Looters are the crew that walks around at night after the lifts
and slopes are closed. Their goal is to take any of the equipment left
behind, which means any snowboards, ski poles, etc., will likely be
snatched up. My mountain was different, mainly due to the poor
management. But in my experience, most all mountains have a sim-
ilar system in place. The looting crew at my mountain consisted of
two employees and their friend. One of the employees was in rent-
als and the other worked in the office. What they would mainly loot
was rental equipment, which was genius. They could always use the
excuse that they were just looking to bring gear back to the rental
shop if they were caught.
Much like you can use the excuse I thought it was my rental
if youre caught. Rental guys stealing rentals left on the mountain
was kind of fucked up. Sometimes a customer would rent their
equipment and either misplace it on a busy day or leave it due to an
emergency. But despite the extreme ease they would have by just
returning them (and I assure you, it would be a snap to bring back
any forgotten rentals and refund the customers credit card), these
guys steal them instead, and bill the customer. Just common busi-
ness practices for ski resorts.
After a month of being there, the job was starting to kill me. I
had to work in brutal conditions (usually while high), for shit pay.
The owner was on to me and breathing down my neck, desperate to
fire me, but what I discovered next made it all worthwhile. I finally
found my personal honey pot. I found a veritable assembly line of
young girls, one that I would savagely harvest. Doing more drugs
and underage girls in a span of five weeks than my entire life up to
that point.
What I found was the bunny hill. Oh the glorious bunny hill.
Chapter 2
The Bunny Hill
My Subaru cracked the snow and ice as I pulled into the parking
lot ready for work. It was just past seven thirty a.m., I had to leave
my apartment at six a.m. just to arrive on time. It had snowed the
night before, and the roads still werent plowed. I pulled in and
strategically parked my car near a small goat path that I would later
be using to smuggle out stolen ski equipment. As I was putting on
my third layer of clothing, Dum-Dum pulled up next to me in his
beat up old Honda. Dum-Dum was a nickname he gave himself, his
real name Ill leave out. But Dum-Dum was by far the nicest guy
on the mountain. When it came to the liftees he was our unofficial
leader, the unofficial spokesman of our group at monthly meetings.
This was a great luxury, because the majority of the staff thought
Bella, the manager, was a clueless princess, who landed in her posi-
tion by happy chance. This was also good because the majority of
the time she was talking I was thinking about smelling her pussy.
I had little concern for the topics being discussed, such as safety,
politeness, etc. But how could I, when my boss was a five-foot-eight
busty blonde?
Dum-Dum and I both slithered out of our cars and began to
walk towards the main lift. It was their most powerful and modern
lift, named after the granddaughter of the resort owner. Not Bella
or her father, who was the real owner, but the daughter of the other
daughter, Ally. She managed to pop out a kid, fittingly, so the main
chair lift was named after her daughter: The Abberation .
The small crowd of liftees was gathered, drinking coffee and
getting in their morning cigarettes. The lifts motor growled as it
34
The Bunny Hill
35
came to life, and chairs slowly began passing through the loading
bay.
Dum-Dum, youre up top, commanded Malcolm, our direct
boss, and the resident mountain handyman. Paul, Weasel, &
Midget, youre down here.
What about me, Malcolm? I asked.
Set up the bunny hill, he commanded.
tucx 1ou, M+tcotM! ii iii: :o1ui:c iu1 :ici 1o 1ou!
uoP +ri 1ou ii1r+1 Mi, 1ou :o: ot + ii1cu!
Ok, boss, no problem, I replied with a smile.
The bunny hill was typically used as punishment for a haphazard
liftee. When I first started working at the mountain I was shocked
by how bad it was. I had heard complaints but didnt realize the
severity of the situation until I was assigned to work it. The big-
gest problem is that youre left there all alone, and once youre
there, other liftees avoid you like the plague. Nobody looks at you,
acknowledges you, or even talks about you. They do this mainly
because if they lock eyes with you, theyre afraid youll signal them
over. Either way they will ignore the request, but later on when you
savagely confront them about this, it will be awkward.
All lifts require at least two people to run them, usually three.
But not the bunny hill, that is a one-man job, so if you have to go the
bathroom, youre ignored and have to wait; if youve been missed in
the rotation, youre ignored and have to wait; if there is a problem with
the lift, youre ignored and have to wait; if there is an injured person
bleeding to death in the middle of the bunny hill, youre ignored and
have to wait; if aliens land and demand to speak with the ski resort
manager, youre ignored and have to wait. Nobody, absolutely nobody
wanted to end up at the bunny hill. But there I was, the sound of a giant
bull wheel slowly rotating handlebars up, on an empty bunny hill.
Im still not sure if the treatment of liftees at that particular
ski resort was legal, and despite the numerous phone calls to the
National Ski Areas Association, U.S. Consumer Product Safety
Commission, and other organizations, I never bothered to ask.
I guess I knew it would be a moot point, so I never bothered to
research it. Whether it was legal or not, liftees and other ski resort
employees are abused. Standing in those extremely cold condi-
tionscommonly below zero degreeswas like torture. At the
other lifts there were always two people and a shack, which most
of the time (but not always) provided some kind of warmth. The
bunny hill had a small shack which liftees werent allowed to stand
in, and it didnt have heat anyway, so that made little difference. But
when we were neglected and left on the bunny hill for more than an
hour, we went bat-shit insane. At one point I just stopped giving a
fuck and started blatantly hitting on sixteen-year-old girls.
Mind you, I would be subtle. Ive watched enough Dateline: To
Catch A Predator specials to know how to ride the fine line. I had
a very delicate system:
Approach: Wow, youre good, how long have you been
skiing?
Gauge Risk: Hey, do you go to college around here?
Oh my God, youre only in high school? No way,
you look way older.
Engage: You seem so mature, I never would have guessed
by talking to you that youre just sixteen.
Bait: I dont want to get into trouble by asking this
butAh, nah, forget it.
Attack: I was gonna see if you wanted to come to my
apartment tomorrow night, I was having a small
get together with a few friends, theyre the older
crowd, though. You might be bored hanging with
a bunch of adults.
Lock In: Oh awesome, let me get your number so I can
text you.
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The Bunny Hill
37
And so started the endless flow of teenagers to my apartment.
It eventually became a statistics game. I would start running num-
bers on which girls were more likely to fuck me the first time we
hung out. On average it takes seven hours for a girl to become com-
fortable enough to have sex with you. That translates roughly to two
dates, maybe three if she has issues. With the help of alcohol I could
seal the deal the first night.
Hey, Im really sorry, but friends bailed and Ive had a few
drinks. I know youre close but it might not be a good idea to come
over. Ive been going through some stuff and dont want to make
you uncomfortable.
If she insisted on coming over I was guaranteed to have a night
of fresh pussy. After once or twice, this became my default strategy.
If I got turned down, I went through my list of local girls guaranteed
to come over.
I should explain now that this is a huge epidemic at ski resorts.
Parents feel comfortable enough to let their little kids and teenag-
ers go off on their own. I guess they figure, Whats the worst that
can happen? After reading this, now you know.
With hormones soaring, young girls get gussied up and crush
on young guys. Because everyone is riding around on a snowboard
or skis, it makes it difficult to talk to one anotherbut the cute guy
who remains stationary is easy to talk to. Now add the fact that a
liftee is in a position of authority, the girl is already feeling vulner-
able upon approach, and all liftees are networking together.
Every girl that steps onto the mountain is organized into catego-
ries, rated, tagged, and bagged. The downside to this is that the net-
work of liftees has rules that we abide by. If a liftee calls dibs on a girl,
everyone else lays off and gives the liftee a few tries to pick her up. If
that liftee fails, its anyones game, and it was a game we played often.
But then there was the bunny hill. Because everyone hated it so
much, they neglected the liftee on the bunny hill and removed him
from the game. So if you were working the bunny hill, you would
get dozens of girls all to yourself. Since women are just a numbers
game, you were bound to get one or two solid leads a night. It was
like your own personal hunting ground, which turned the bunny
hill nightmare into a luxury. I was a big fish, not only in charge of a
small pond but screening all the ski bunnies that entered.
Thus I could appreciate the name Bunny hill, because if you
were smart you could get at least five new Facebook friends a day
there. Im not the most tech-savvy guy in the world, so getting on
Facebook was kind of tricky for me. Facebook being a kind of dat-
ing service which people use to keep track of people from their past
that they secretly hate. They also use it to stalk the opposite sex and
hook up with one another; Facebook and the bunny hill became two
of my greatest tools.
Oh, and as a side note to a certain young busty blonde bunny
that texted me this (you know who you are, bitch):
Same how just cause u gave me ur card, I cant go around say-
ing all liftees are perverted dogs who run around lookin for tits and
fresh pussy
Yes you can, yes they are, and thanks for the tits and fresh pussy.
They were both magnificent! (P.S. The tattoo on your side of a small
cluster of stars isnt original, two other girls I was fucking at the
time had the same tattoo. Also, thanks for all of the weed you sup-
plied, that was very cool of you.)
The Basics
The bunny hill is the safe haven for complete barneys. Its a place
where falling is not only expected, but planned for. I have ranted about
a lot of practices that should be removed from ski resorts thus far, and
38
The Bunny Hill
39
while there are several I have about the bunny hill, people falling is not
one of them. There is absolutely nothing wrong with falling on the rope
tow, magic carpet, or whatever other bullshit form of getting you up the
hill your resort uses. You should be falling on the bunny hill; if you arent,
you dont belong there. Bunny hills differ in many ways. Sometimes
theyre too small, sometimes theyre too long, but in general theyre
always the same. A designated turf of snow which isnt too steep, for
skiers to practice their pizza and French fry formation; also for riders
to practice their carving. Thats what the bunny hill was designed for, to
practice and hone your skills for the actual mountain. (On occasion you
will find a bunny hill that is too steep or not steep enough; always go with
your gut on whats comfortable for you.) People who spent the day wip-
ing out and getting back up to try again ultimately earned a deep-seated
respect. Liftees and employees of the mountain take notice at that kind
of thing and tend to bond with them far easier. Dont be afraid to try and
bond with the lift operator. He is the one in charge of the hill and can be
the difference between a good experience and a bad experience. If youre
a girl this should be an absolute must. It isnt that difficult to do, and is
well worth the effort. Yes, my mindset was that of an asshole, but do you
really care what some loser liftee thinks? If he were anyone important he
wouldnt be waking up at six a.m. so he could stand out in the freezing
cold to help your kid get five feet closer to the rope tow. Trust me, the
bunny hill is a place to fall. If you do happen to find a resort with asshole
liftees, Ski Patrol, or ski school instructors, report them. Will it do much?
Probably not, but in the long run enough reports will add up and the
instructor will ultimately be let go or at least given a talking to.
IMPORTANT TIP: Sit to stop. If you are ever flying out of control
and panic sets in, just tumble over. Trust me. You are better off roll-
ing around a few times in some snow than crashing into a picnic
table, tree, or, worse yet, a child. As long as you keep this in mind,
you should have no fear when going to the mountain.
Notes On Carving
Ive never taken a liking to the For Dummies book series,
mainly because I found them kind of insulting. But I would hate to
leave out a critical piece of information just because I think it should
go without saying. This book is, after all, concerned with under-
standing and conquering ski resorts.
Modern media depicts fast driving as sliding around a corner,
tires screeching. The eleven-year old me agreed whole-heartedly
that the fastest way to get a car around a corner was to do it side-
ways. But getting older Ive found (through my love of watching
motor-sport on TV) that the fastest way to get a car around a corner
is to brake heavily and ease it around gently. Ive learned much to
my dismay that if your car is screeching around a corner its actually
going a lot slower than it could be. When I was actually old enough
to start driving I realized my dream of screeching around corners
was dead. Snowboarding is the same way.
Modern media depicts snowboarding as a high-stakes gamble
through the most insane mountaintop terrain in the world. Skiing is
shown as a lush and dangerous thrill sport that will have you making
sharp turns at eighty miles an hour, defeating bad guys, and soar-
ing off forty-feet jumps. This should not be your goal when skiing
or snowboarding, just like your goal when driving shouldnt be to
screech around corners. Im sure it would be fun to jump out of a
helicopter on a snowboard and screech around a corner in a car,
but both of those ideas are just glamorized Hollywood concepts.
In reality, when you ski or snowboard you are following a simple
pattern that will get you down the mountain. All you do is glide
back and forth in a zig-zag pattern until you get down the moun-
tain. Turn left or right, ride in that direction until you reach the
edge of the trail, then turn the other direction, zig-zagging down
as smoothly as possible. If you start going too fast, turn harder and
you will naturally slow.
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The Bunny Hill
41
Once you have this pattern down, youre free to break away
from it. Sometimes you might want to go flat out and bomb a hill
as fast as humanly possible, other times you might want to cruise.
Implementing tricks and speed can come later. At first, its impor-
tant to have a solid method of getting down the hill.
Rope Tow
Yes, its the worst system ever invented by man to reach the
top of a hill. There are dozens of better systems out there. The most
commonly used is the magic carpet: a giant conveyer belt which
people can stand on that takes them to the top of the bunny hill.
Cheaper mountains have rope tows and they make for a crummy
experience. But not for the reason youd think. Most are under the
impression that the rope tow is extremely difficult to get a grasp of.
This is only partially true; Ive only had a handful of people out of
the thousands Ive helped that havent been able to master it within
a few tries. The real problem is pressure and social consciousness.
The idea of everyone being able to get something and you finally
getting up to attempt it only to fail miserably with a huge audience.
Sadly, most liftees dont stress that nobody really cares if you
fail or succeed, the bunny hill is there for you to fail. If youve spent
enough time on the bunny hill to be any good, then you shouldnt be
on the rope tow. You should move past it and head to the lifts so real
barneys can have more room to fall and get their bearings. I will be
reasonable and admit liftees do prefer customers that zip right onto
the towrope, but they never expect it. Its like when a girl washes
your balls in her mouth after a blow job, its never expected, but
always a nice surprise. Keep in mind a few things when approaching
the rope tow on the bunny hill (Allah forbid you ever have to). If
youre on a snowboard, you are already at a disadvantage. It is much
more difficult to do than if you were on skis. So be mindful that you
are probably going to fall or toss around quite a bit.
But the tips are as follows:
Board pointed straight up the hill. One foot strapped in, one
foot loose. The foot thats strapped in should be pointing up the
hill; the other should be ready to step onto the stomp pad (that bit
of space between the two bindings). If you are losing your balance,
use your free foot to walk up the hill. Center your weight and lean
back, allow the bar to pull you up. Have confidence and take con-
trol, this really isnt that hard, its the equivalent to pulling someone
with your hand with you strapped into a board. You got this, relax.
If youre on skis:
Youre fucked. I dont ski and never have; I think all people that
ski are pussies and faggots. Next time pick a sport that coincides
with the authors. Douche. But I have assessed a few tips for you to
keep in mind just the same. Keep your skis straight, parallel, like
the number 11. As long as they are lined up next to each other, you
can do no wrong. Your skis should remain roughly the same dis-
tance apart at all times. Just relax and control your skis, keep them
pointed up the mountain and youll be fine. This is easy on skis, but
if you fall thats okay too. Anybody that judges you (which would
be rare, trust me) is an insensitive prick who will probably do just
as poorly, fuck em. Keep in mind this is about having fun, there is
no pressure, try as many times as youd like. Take a deep breath and
just relax with it.
Sharing Is Caring
There are a few simple things to keep in mind when stepping
onto the bunny hill. Their method of getting you to the top of the
hill is silly and a waste of time learning to master. Instead, under-
stand that it is only there as a Band-Aid and make do with it the best
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The Bunny Hill
43
you can. Do not allow it to be the reason for you to give up skiing or
riding. Real lifts are vastly different, any time wasted mastering the
lift on the bunny hill, be it a magic carpet, rope tow, or the numer-
ous other methods, can be spent instead learning and practicing
proper fundamentals and technique. The bunny hill is for barneys,
pure-bred beginners. Its cool if you want to break off some rust
there. Its even okay to show your kid how to ride or ski, given the
proper pass or equipment (ask customer service for specific resort
rules, see Dark Tips section for why this is). But I suggest you
dont go mocking newbies who fall over or kids who go spiraling
out of control. I would also like to bring up that if the supervising
liftee is being a dick and mocking customers, bring it up to cus-
tomer service immediately.
On a busy day the bunny hill is always going to be crowded, be
ready for anarchy. Not only are barneys there, but its also packed
with ski school instructors, asshole parents, and even snow mon-
sters. Black magic is the only type of magic that can be used to
defeat snow monsters. White magic will only make them stronger.
If youre planning a day of adventure at your local ski resort you
might want to ensure at least one member of your party can cast
black magic, and the fire skill is a must.
Its perfectly acceptable to work on the bunny hill all day, its
also perfectly acceptable to walk up the hill and ride down. If you
dont want to waste your time on the bunny hill lift, feel free to
walk up. As long as you paid for a pass to use that areas snow, and
you have snowboarding or ski boots on, youre good to go.
The Green House
At the resort, those in the know referred to the small shack at
the bottom of the bunny hill as the Green House. This was because
it was the perfect spot to hand off drugs. Mind you, not all drugs,
only odorous ones like marijuana. The only one that could get us
things other than weed, such as coke, E, and God only knows what
else, was LilMalcolmy. He was a petite hoodlum who had been
in and out of jail, and he was only eighteen. A surprisingly savvy
street-smart kid with way too much hustle for his own good, he
was fired a few weeks after he got the job and was often hated for
his prickly demeanor. But while LilMalcolmy sucked at the game
of getting girls in the sack, he was extremely gifted when it came to
getting us any kind of drug we requested, and was always filled with
an amazing amount of advice (and spare diet pills).
However, when looking to score strictly pot, it was like making
it through airport security. It might seem excessive to go through
all the trouble of meeting in a special room with no windows, but
there was a reason. The odor of marijuana is strong, and for some
reason people leave a slight odor when being in a small wooden box
for an hour or more. If someone sweats a lot and has bad hygiene,
like Wee-man, or The Weasel, the shack would smell terrible and
require fifteen minutes of being aired out. If you had remarkably
good hygiene like Paul, Dum-Dum, or Kevin, it smelled like mens
deodorant. But when you had a tiny amount of weed on you, the
entire shack and its surrounding area smelled like you were in a
grow house.
To counter this we started meeting in the Green House so all of
our layers could be removed, the weed concealed, then our layers
put back on. I only did it once or twice, but it was commonplace
among the liftees. We would just ask our resident street pharmacist,
Dum-Dum, to meet us in the Green House. Whenever the person
requesting a meeting was at the bunny hill, it was Dum-Dums job
to go on a bathroom break or bring a shovel to another lift so
they could meet.
I should say now, this is one of the defining aspects of Dum-
Dum. He made very little profit by selling weed, and did so most of
the time as a favor to liftees in need. He was an all-around good guy
44
The Bunny Hill
45
that did his best to make sure all liftees were treated with respect
and not abused too badly. He would skip breaks to make sure oth-
ers got theirs on time. He would double up and stay in a shack for
two or more rotations if he knew the heater was busted. When we
were assigned to shovel out a lift, he would take it upon himself to
get all of the shoveling done before the shift was over. That way we
wouldnt have to stay late. If one of us did have to stay behind, he
would volunteer for it. If someone had to do parking lot duty or
change the garbage, his hand shot up first.
Everyone loved and respected Dum-Dum, our resident meat-
head and all-around savior.
Thanks, man. How much, fifty? I asked. Dum-Dum and I
were in the Green House, I was just putting my shirt back on and he
was stuffing the large bag of weed into a trick pocket on the inside
of his pants, near his boot.
Thirty and were even, he said with a smile.
Youre doing Gods work, Dum-Dum, I said, returning his
smile. You know that? Gods work.
I dont know about Gods work, but Im definitely a saint. He
scurried out of the shack with a shovel, faking some urgency to hide
the intent of our meeting.
All clear! he shouted, as he restarted the lift.
I waited a few more minutes in the shack. Scrolling through my text
messages to see who I was meeting that night. The bunny hill was one
of the few places on the entire mountain where there was reception.
Leah, Bella, Red Fox, Blue Fox, Claire, I had trouble making up
my mind. I wasnt sure if I was in the mood for a blonde, brunette,
redhead, blue head, someone older, an Asian chick, the list was end-
less. I ended up going with a guaranteed hookup and someone who
I knew would appreciate Dum-Dums crop.
Allan: Eagle has landed. Wanna come through tonight, get high
and fuck?
Leah: Sure, what time?
Allan: Meet at the gas station at eight?
Leah: k
Leah was the best at being on call, she was always down
to party and experiment with whatever drug, she always had
food, and was insanely discreet. We barely acted as if we knew
each other on the mountain, she would even introduce me to
other guys she was sleeping with. My bosses were so clueless
that despite my insane behavior I got a ridiculous amount of
hours, so Leah and I both practically lived on the mountain. We
would drive to a nearby gas station and she would ride with me,
an hour away to my quiet town. We both were fucking other
people at the time and wanted to keep it quiet that we were
seeing one another.
We got high on the drive home, and the long night of conversa-
tion leads me to another interesting fact about the mountain and
their insurance policy. Leah was always good for information, and
this is one of my favorites.
Insurance
More often than not, parents would protest not being allowed
on the hill with their spawn. This resulted in the same one-size-fits-
all response: Im very sorry, but our insurance doesnt cover you
to be on the hill right now.
The biggest misconception is that, by insurance the resort
worker means medical insurance in case your child or you are
injured. This is false; ski resorts are referring to their insurance that
will cover them if they are sued. If you are on the bunny hill without
ever being told by someone from the resort that youre not allowed
to be up there, and you are injuredyou have a pretty serious law-
suit against the resort. The resort doesnt care about your safety,
46
only about the amount of money they might lose when the courts
decide they have to compensate you.
Ski resorts are designed entirely to protect themselves. The
only employees that are insured are ski school instructors, and they
are just barely insured. Liftees have no insurance; if theyre hurt,
they are on their own. If a liftee sues for an injury they will most
likely lose. However, there have been amazing exceptions, which I
will share later on.
On Terms
Its good to know your terms, but not necessary. If you want a list of
every possible term that skiers and snowboarders use, you can find
it at allanSaro.com/Ski-resort-Terms.
Chapter 3
The Lift
A person who never made a mistake
never tried anything new.
-Albert Einstein
-Also Im pretty sure the old guy from Pokemon
Frank had been at the controls of The Aberration for just over
an hour now. I would be taking the reins soon, and he would be
headed to the top shack to warm up. It was midday, so I wasnt
in any hurry to get up top. In the gruelingly brutal conditions
that you found on the mountain, liftees were extremely gracious
for any kind of creature comfort. The Aberration was the best
lift because it was the most advanced, so that meant it was the
busiest. This also meant there was a large, fully functioning bot-
tom shack with a slew of controls to slow and stop, and there
was even an emergency stop. There was a radio that boomed
music across the loading bay, and best of all it was the busiest
lift. That meant time flew by when you were at The Aberration,
and it also meant a fresh slew of people to talk to and interact
with. It was a lot like a concentration camp, but at the end of
the day we got to go home to our poorly heated apartments and
chug down NyQuil, only praying that we werent that sick for
tomorrow.
Besides the aforementioned perks of being at The Aberration,
the cherry on top was being able to go up to the lift shack. It was
warm, not exactly well insulated, but it had a heater and a chair,
which was an immense luxury to us. I perfected the art of removing
all three pairs of socks and rotating them on the heater. Dry socks
48
The Lift
49
made all the difference later on, when I was standing on a pile of
snow for two hours straight.
Hey, man, you wanna take over for bit? Frank had been rant-
ing about condiments. The man was on a mission to find a recipe for
the spicy mustard in the cafeteria. A spicy mustard, I learned later
on from a cafe girl I was banging, didnt actually exist.
Yeah sure, you got like fifteen minutes before youre going up.
Need to run to the bathroom or anything? I added.
Nah, he said coolly as he walked away from the controls. He
walked out right in front of two patrons getting ready to load the
lift. He then casually walked through the frantic onslaught of chairs
rolling into the loading bay. The two patrons were too busy looking
at him to pay attention to the incoming chair, if I didnt rush over
to the controls in time to hit the slow button, they would have both
gotten pegged.
Nice save, playboy, said Frank as he reached into his pocket for
a pack of smokes.
Just having a smoke? I asked.
Nope, he began. Its just been awhile since someones been
whacked with the chair. Itll happen at any moment now and I dont
want to be responsible.
That might happen with you at the controls, but Im on this
now, aint nobody getting hurt! I yelled.
Well see, said Frank. He assumed his usual cowboy stance,
leaning on the side of the shack. A cigarette hanging from his mouth,
his hands fiddling with a Power Rangers thermos.
The flow of riders continued without interruption. Kevin was
working the line. He was tasked with finding the optimal pair of ski-
ers and riders to load onto the lift each time. This was mainly to cre-
ate busy work for liftees, but also a poor attempt at saving time. On
very busy days it was useful, but the majority of time it just slowed
things down and aggravated customers. Its such a convoluted and
poorly thought-out systemthat it is immensely easy to game, and
Ill explain how later on.
As the rush died down, so did the sense of urgency. I went
about my usual routine of waving customers up and tipping their
chair back so it would scoop them up perfectly and whisk them
away to the top of the mountain. I had mastered the art of comfort-
ing customers and making sure they felt welcome. Each person that
mounted a chair safely and securely was another safe and satisfied
customer.
A mother and daughter stepped up side by side, ready to be
loaded; I glanced at Frank with a smug look, pointing to the clock.
I had made it more than twenty minutes without any kind of inci-
dent. I could see him packing up to head to the top shack. He gave
me a smug look back, pointing to the mother and daughter. Without
warning an Indian man on skis jumped the gun, skiing across the
Wait Here sign. I hit the slow button, then a split second later the
stop.
It was too late, the chair had consumed him, trampling over
him and whacking the mother and daughter couple before the lift
came to a stop. I looked up to see Frank behind the plexiglass win-
dow in the shack. He had a smug look on his face, the phone to his
ear.
He already called up top to get the all clear, in preparation
for the accident. After hanging up the phone he took his time
strolling ten feet from the shack to the lift controls. I kept look-
ing at him, waiting for the thumbs up from the top shack so I
could start the lift again. But despite the now enormous line of
people waiting behind him, he waited until he was two feet from
me to give me the thumbs up. Malcolm, our direct supervisor
was standing there the entire time, observing the whole incident
as it went down.
All clear, brother! said Frank.
50
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51
Thank you, I replied, trying my best to make it sound like,
Go Fuck Yourself.
Malcolm said nothing, only smiled.
I hope that story demonstrates one thing. When customers get
whacked with the chair, its liftees that take all the blame. Despite a
customer rushing through the line like an asshole, we put the onus
on ourselves. When push comes to shove, all you have to do is stay
with the notion that the liftee could have prevented it if he was pay-
ing attention.
Being a liftee is like being a teenage boy that drives a Civic
with a modified exhaust. Everyone feeds you the same nonsense
like Dont speed and you wont get pulled over. But the reality is
that a cop can make up any bullshit reason to pull you over. Liftees
can be fired for almost anything; them keeping their job is based
on how much bullshit theyre willing to put up with. If they will
stay an hour later without warning, work for crap pay, and not
complain when they dont get a break from the life-threatening
cold.
Dont wig out and accuse the liftee of negligence, just be cool.
In most all cases, if you arent being a dick you can just brush it off
and get back into line where the lift operator tells you.
The dirty little secret of the lift is that we dont care at all.
Not only do we not care, but we also make little games and bets
about when people are going to get hit next. Dont get me wrong;
at first there is a huge amount of remorse and concern for those
few people that step out too early. Its no fun witnessing an inno-
cent bystander get ass raped by a glorified park bench. But it soon
becomes a concert of ooooh- and aahhh-filled hoots as we stand
around exchanging stories about who witnessed the hardest hit. The
thirty minutes we had all to ourselves was usually too packed with
stories about finding shit on the tip of our dicks after anal. But on
occasion, when we werent exchanging stories about demoralizing
teenage girls, we would mention people getting pegged with chairs.
To be honest, most all liftees just dont care.
Just please dont start yelling, making up excuses, or blaming
your kid. Just say youre sorry and do as youre told. A friendly
liftee might tease you a little but its all in jest. The trick to get-
ting on the lift is to relax. Walk up to the load here marker and
get ready to sit. Dont twist your entire body around facing the
lift like a bullfighter; youre not staring down a rancor. Just relax,
turn your head to the outside and reach around with your arm,
embrace the lift when the liftee hands it to you, and sit down.
Make sure to pull down your safety bar shortly after, and youre
good to go. The same goes for unloading from a lift. As long as
youre quick and efficient about it, the liftee just doesnt care.
What he or she does care about is getting up from their cozy
perch to make sure you are ok or to tell you to keep it moving.
Please, for the sake of laziness, when you fall, get the fuck up
and out of the way. This might seem like a high-strung neurotic
asshole, cramming curse words into a thirty-thousand-word rant,
fueled by bitter hatred and anger because he is extremely insecure
about his abnormally small penis, and dont get me wrong, it is.
Im not just saying this for fun, though: please get up and out of
the way as soon as humanly possible. If you fall when unloading
from the lift, we have no idea if youre feigning your injury so your
boyfriend will give you attention, if youre trying to mask embar-
rassment, or if youre genuinely hurt. The worst part about this,
which most people dont realize, is that they are in the direct path
of incoming skiers. Subconsciously we all think that there cant
possibly be anyone worse than ourselves, but there is. Those ski-
ers are unloading from the lift, often times with children or their
friends who are more afraid than you are. You lying in the way
can seriously wound or hurt someone. Please, remove yourself
from the unloading path as quickly as possible; otherwise youre
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just being an unsafe twinkie-fucker. And trust me, nobody likes a
twinkie-fucker, they ruin all the twinkies.
Shortly after I got to witness a mother get ass-raped and her
daughter lose her virginity to a lift chair, it was Franks turn to head
up. I made a point of slowing the lift for him, the ultimate fuck you
to any liftee.
Make no mistake, though, Frank and I werent enemies. If any-
one on the mountain understood Frank, it was me, and if anyone
understood me, it was Frank. We were brothers in arms, knights
at the round table of pussy. My first shift at the mountain was with
Frank, my last was with Frank, my best were with Frank. He was
the one that showed me how easy it was to fuck older women. He
showed me walking away from the bunny hill in the middle of one
of the busiest days of the year was okay. He showed me how to
take hour-long breaks, got me into the inner drug-dealing circle,
and even nudged me towards the ass-licking, cock-sucking, butt-
fucking Claire.
We would trade intimate stories of our real lives. I would stress
to him the anxiety of trying to manage a side business. He would
share with me his love of prostitutes, drugs, peach-flavored pussy,
Atlantic City, card counting, and conning older women. Franks
generosity didnt end there, though. He showed me the most mar-
velous discovery to ever exist in ski resorts.
It was seven p.m., the mountain was bitter cold, it had been
snowing all day, and the white night sky showed no sign of exhaus-
tion. There was an inevitable load of snow ready to dump on us like
R. Kelly on a fifteen-year-old.
Shovel! yelled Dum-Dum.
Kevin and I were at the edge of the lift shoveling like weve
never before, both of us wearing sweat-drenched T-shirts.
Yield! yelled Dum-Dum.
We both snapped back, missing the lift by inches.
Shovel! yelled Dum-Dum.
Our noses dived into frantic work once again, moving as much
snow as humanly possible.
Malcolm ran up to us, throwing two huge steel spades, used for
crushing ice.
Break! yelled Dum-Dum.
Frank leapt down directly in the lifts path. He punctured the
huge block of ice we were working on, in two spots. Just as he
planned, the huge block broke gracefully away, clearing up the edge
of the runway.
Frank lit a cigarette, threw his steel spade to the side, and went
about supervising.
Shovel, said Frank, with much less enthusiasm than his Marine
Corps-ready counterpart, Dum-Dum.
Careful now, boys, said Frank, exhaling a drag from his ciga-
rette. Watch out for stinky beavers.
For what? asked Kevin.
Smelly pussy, said Frank, as he glanced back at the two young
girls boarding the liftee. Bet they smell like peaches.
Yield! yelled Frank with fake enthusiasm.
I snapped back, keeping my nose out for the smell of peaches.
Nothing.
Youre whacked, dude, said Kevin.
I continually made a point of taking as big a whiff as possible
whenever a female skier or snowboarder came buzzing out of the
loading bay on a lift chair. It wasnt until the tenth or so try that
I smelled it. Frank was right. There was a foxy-looking sixteen-
year-old who was on the race team. Her skin-tight suit revealed
her incredibly lean and nubile young body. I can still remember her
gorgeously pure face, and her beautiful brown hair that was stuffed
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underneath her helmet. As she whiffed by, the smell of sweet tangy
sweat and a dash of body wash overcame my senses.
It wasnt a particularly flattering smell. Stinky pussy wasnt my
forte and always reminded me of a girl I was dating. The broken-
vagina-wielding blonde who was as stereotypical as they came was
the only exception to my odorous rule. She was a Mac-touting,
Volkswagen-driving, indie-music-listening, star-cluster-tattooed,
photographer. Despite her rotten vagina, she had an amazing sup-
ply of weed, unemployment checks, and lack of self-esteem.
I was able to consume enough drugs to the point where her
smelly pussy didnt cause a failed erection. As much as I hate to
admit it, though, burying my face in her plump ass then promptly
fucking it was worth the trade-off of her broken genitalia. But I do
have a few words of advice for all girls of this sort. Get off Tumblr,
youre not a photographer, the band Thursday fucking sucks, and
see a gynecologist, that smell isnt normal. Oh also, wax your nip-
ples, there was a hair on one of them once and thats why I lost my
erection, not because I was stressed.
Getting On & Getting Off
The scenario you have running through your head of getting
clobbered by the chair, having the lift stopped, and making a huge
sceneit isnt a big deal. Accept now that youre probably going to
get hit by a chair, youll probably even get the chair stopped once or
twice, and thats okay. Liftees bank on you stepping out of line and
getting hit by the chair. It makes the day go by faster. Also, it helps
us look like heroes when we slam on the slow or stop button early
enough to save you from getting nailed. Dont sweat it for a second.
Having the lift stopped is completely fine; in reality here is the pro-
cedure that we go through every time the lift stops.
There is an incident, so we hit the stop button, much like I did
when the Indian man plowed through the line. He stepped into the
loading zone without looking and didnt realize it was already full.
So, without anywhere to escape to, he got slammed by the chair and
trampled over the girls.
Our next step is to walk over to the phone in the bottom shack
and call the top shack to get the all clear. If someone is working with
us, however, which most likely they are, they will make the call for
us, and give us the thumbs up. Once we get the all clear, we hit the
stat button and the lift creaks to life once again. Thats it. Even the
biggest assholes, that step out like morons and put children at risk
of being injured, are rarely judged. If youre worried about people
thinking youre an asshole, dont. Just use common sense and be
cool, dont try to blame other people for their messing up, like the
person youre riding with, or your kid.
Heres how boarding a lift works. You step up to the wait here
or designated load area. There you will wait for the next chair to clear
you, before you step forward and load onto the chair. Sometimes
there will be a lift operator to signal you, sometimes there wont.
But there will always be someone controlling the lift.
If youre new, you can ask the liftee to slow the lift as you
approach and load the lift. Most modern lifts have a slow setting;
most modern liftees are trained not to use the slow unless they have
to. If you ask, and they agree (which most will), proceed with cau-
tion anyway.
You will be signaled to board. Take a deep breath, its game
time. As soon as you are up to the load here sign and the chair is
coming to scoop you away, keep a few things in mind.
Dont be on your mobile phone.
Make sure there is nobody getting ready to load before you
step out.
Pause the conversation youre having with a friend and instead
focus on your surroundings.
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Reach around with your outside arm, for the chair. If youre
in the center or riding solo, feel free to reach for the seat
instead.
Once loaded, swiftly pull down your safety bar. Its there for
your safety and Ive seen several falls in my time as a liftee.
Theyre as violent and nasty as you would expect. Please pull
the fucking bar down. Dropping out of the lift is a very real,
very dangerous possibility.
While the liftee is there to catch, or tip the chair for you, its
always a good idea to be prepared otherwise. Especially if you
were a douche to that liftee earlier.
I was caught behind a woman on the way to work once. She
was going fifteen miles under the speed limit and seemed to be
making a pretty big point of taking her time. As we neared the
entrance to the ski resort, she turned in. I, of course, being the
charming young gentleman I am, pulled up alongside of her. I
wanted to get a good look at her and her child. I was going to be
directly in charge of her and her childs safety for the evening, and
she just aggravated the hell out of me. Unfortunately, I never did
get a chance to hurt her offspring, but I did get to yell at her, when
she neared the loading dock too soon.
But as long as were on the subject of aggravating assholes, there
is one thing people do consistently that makes liftees fucking hate
them. Its dangerous, selfish, douchey, and annoying as fuck. If ever
you wanted to be the joke of the mountain, and have liftees mock
you and tell jokes about you at every opportunity, there is one thing
you can do
Unloading
Youve reached the top of the lift, your journey has expired, and
youre ready to start your ride down. If youre nervous about fall-
ing, dont be. It happens to the most seasoned skiers and riders.
Raise your safety bar. Get it up a good distance from the top. If
youre on skis, keep your tips pointed up. Keep them aligned like
the number 11 and stand when you get onto the platform. This
allows you to coast to flat, level ground where you can get your
bearings. If youre a rider on a snowboard, things can be a bit trick-
ier. Place your free foot on your stomp pad (see allanSaro.com/
Ski-resort-Terms) and ride down. Pretend that your feet are
strapped in, and act as if they are. Dont be on your mobile phone.
If you have a backpack or anything else hanging off you, double
check to make sure it isnt caught in the chair. (It happens a lot.
Im not sure who designed lift chairs to immediately latch onto to
backpacks and purses, but they did a damn good job of it.) If youre
approaching the top and extremely nervous about the unload, look
for the liftee operating up there. He will most likely be in a shack or
small, heated booth. If you make eye contact with him or her (but
most likely a him, because weak-armed women cant be liftees),
stick out your arm like youre doing a Nazi salute and raise it up and
down. This will signal that you want the lift slowed. Liftees use it to
communicate to one another when to slow or speed up the lift. On
rare occasions they will tell wayward customers to give the signal to
slow down as well, so liftees are trained to respond to it.
Finally, this is the most crucial bit of information, the most
important thing to remember. Get out of the way immediately.
Not doing so is one thing you can do while skiing or riding that
will make the liftee or a fellow customer want to punch you in the
throat. If you fall, dont look back and smile or assess your sur-
roundings, get up right away and move as fast as you can out of the
way. Its fine to fall, everyone does, I even did a fair bit of times. But
when I did, I got out of the way immediately. Please understand
that when you fall after unloading, the entire lift doesnt stop for
you. The liftee isnt going to stop a hundred people in queue just so
you can have a moment to feel socially comfortable. Get the fuck
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up and move as fast as you can. There are people coming, some of
which are just as new to this as you. Some of which are children,
who dont deserve to get hurt because you needed a few minutes
to try to make yourself look like less of an asshole. (They deserve
to get hurt because they blossomed too soon for their own good or
winked at me in a provocative way.)
Get up and get out of the way as fast as you can. Seem repeti-
tive? It is, mother fucker, this is the most important bit of infor-
mation I can possibly bestow upon you. Aside from the fact that I
shouldnt be trusted around teenage girls, this is the crucial point
of the book. If you fail to get out of the way soon enough, liftees
will most likely yell at you. Feel free to yell back, but it wont do
any good. Theyll just walk into the shack and call Ski Patrol, who
will kindly escort you off the mountain, in the most humiliating
way possible.
The Safety Bar
Bar down! I yelled. I already started spamming the safety bar but-
ton before I walked away from the controls to grab the shovel. The
safety bar button was an insanely obnoxious switch that was rigged
to the side of the lift control panel. When pressed it would blast a
loud automated message that said, Please, lower your safety bar!
Customers and ski school absolutely hated it. Liftees loved it. We
would spam it every chance we got, not just hitting it once, which
was more than sufficient, but five or seven times in consecutive
order. The music that blasted out of the loading bay drowned out
the loud speaker which shouted the message, so it didnt bother us
at all, just the customers.
It was almost pitch black out, and we were the only lift still run-
ning. Five minutes before closing, I was already gone mentally, my
car was started and half packed with stolen ski equipment. A friend
of mine promised me dinner, a joint, and some hardcore hate sex
when we got off work. My supervisor Malcolm was leaning on the
side of the shack smoking a cigarette, speaking with Dum-Dum.
Dum-Dums father was sick. Dum-Dum was just biding time
until his dad felt better, then he was off to the Marine Corps. It was
all he talked about, that and ass-banging Leah. She definitely made
her rounds on the mountain. This didnt bother me one bit, though,
she was kind enough to let me sample her snatch.
But that was the thing about teen
P|o |e o.|! I saw a yellow blur drop from the lift. Was it a kid
landing a jump? I couldnt make out what it was in the dark.
OH FUCK! I screamed. FALL! They fell! They fell! Ski
Patrol! We need Ski Patrol now! My hands had already stopped the
lift. I flew underneath the danger zone, frantically peddling through
mounds of snow to make over. My lungs were on fire, burning from
my violent dash as I slid under the safety rope, it was ice, rock hard.
Fuck, that looked like a kid that fell. My heart dropped as I helplessly
ran up the hill.
My eyes came upon two figures, a stunned boy, his face covered
in blood, and his older sister, her leg twisted awkwardly.
Stay still, dont move, dont move stay still, Ski Patrol is right
here.
I signaled for the boy to lay down.
Are you okay? Are you okay? Whats wrong? I repeated.
My legs feel funny, said the girl slowly.
Are you okay? I asked the boy. He was in shock and didnt
respond to me. He only looked concerned for his sisters well being.
Is she okay? he asked.
Yeah, buddy, shes gonna be fine, its ok, youre okay.
I turned to see Ski Patrol flubbing behind me. I could hear the
snowmobile howling to life down the hill. Moments later Dum-
Dum dropped my supervisor off next to us and took off, storming
up the hill to get to the Ski Patrol cabin. Dum-Dum cared deeply
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for kids. He would later recount that he felt responsible for the fall
and was considering resigning from the resort.
They both dropped, she says her legs feel funny, I said quickly.
We got it, said the chubby ski patrolman.
Moments later a red figure came speeding down the hill. He
stopped teen feet down from the fallen kids. I ran over to him and
slammed my boots down on the back of his skis, unclipping him so
he could assist the kids. He rushed up alongside the other patrol-
man and they began to work out the situation. They looked like they
would be okay. I sighed in relief and ran back down to the lift.
I entered the shack and lifted the phone to call the operator up
top. Kevin was up top, undoubtedly eating sour candies and playing
Pokemon next to the heater.
Yo, Im halting loading. Im gonna run out the lift and clear
everyone off the mountain. Head outside now and tell everyone to
start heading down immediately.
Why, what happened? he asked.
We had a fall off the lift, I replied.
What?! I heard him yell as I slammed down the receiver and
marched over to the controls. I hit the start button and yanked the
lift closed barricade in front of the loading path. Dum-Dum revved
into the loading bay on one of the snowmobiles. He shut it off and
stood alongside me, neither of us spoke, we just waited with baited
breath.
Hey man, I gotta message this bitch real quick, Ill be right
back, I said.
Do your thing, playboy, Dum-Dum replied.
I walked into the lodge where there was a signal and texted my
plans for the evening. I returned moments later to see a swarm of
Ski Patrol assisting the kids. I walked back up to the crowd now sur-
rounding them and spoke with my supervisor.
They all good?
Yeah, her leg is sprained or broken, but theyre gonna be okay,
he said.
I spent the next half hour snatching the lift closed rainbow from
the path of Ski Patrol that were riding up the hill to get the sled.
The remaining three liftees stayed behind an extra hour to keep the
lifts running.
Whats the moral of the story? Put down your fucking safety bar.
Parents, have your kids lower their safety bar. The fall I witnessed
was roughly twenty-five feet, but I cant imagine a fall from fifty, or
even eighty feet, both of which have happened at that same resort.
Lift Types
In your skiing career you are likely to encounter a great variety of
lift types, some load two, some load three. But the most important
thing for you to be able to determine is simple: age. The major-
ity of high-tech modern resorts use modern expensive lifts. The
resort I worked at used older lifts, because, well, they were fucking
cheap. Which is important to consider when choosing a mountain.
Its another reason why family-owned ski resorts are next to impos-
sible. Its like that one family who owns an entire Hawaiian island
and just keeps that shit all to themselves. Yeah, its nice, but you
know going there that your hotel room will be made of beach wood
and youll spend half your vacation shitting in a bucket.
Oftentimes the average lift is much older than the average
American. This was especially true for my ski resort because they
were family owned and wanted to milk every last penny they pos-
sibly could. Cutting into two percent of their profits to guaran-
tee the safety and security of their customers was absolutely out
of the question. Alis daughter, The Aberration, needed new school
clothes and an iPhone. Our oldest lift was approximately sixty-five
years old and it would be used daily to haul customers from bottom
62
to top. Most modern lifts have different speedsnormal, stop, and
slow. The normal speed is pretty swift, with the slow speed there to
slow when stopping might not be necessary. Sometimes a quick lag
is all it takes for a fallen patron to collect themselves and scramble
to safety.
How old is the lift youre using? How loud is it? Can you hear
an engine cranking? If so, its probably at least forty years old or
so. A good rule of thumb is the louder the lift, the older it is. One
that sounds and looks extremely shaky is oftentimes an older refur-
bished lift. It all depends on the resort you frequent. They might
use state-of-the-art modern lifts or cheap refurbished lifts, both are
one-hundred-percent legal, but not one-hundred-percent safe.
As a liftee, however, Ive come to learn that most all accidents
or lift failures happen on older lifts. You might consider this when
youre getting ready to board a lift with a name like Ol John or
Ol Sam. According to the National Ski Area Association, in 2004
alone there were approximately forty-five fatalities involving ski-
ing and riding. (Here is what can happen when an older lifts fails:
allanSaro.com/rant-rollback.) The statistics touted on their
website are given an extremely biased slant not accounting for
season length, other countries, or frequency of injuries that dont
result in fatalities. They compare the sport to others, but most of
them are year-round sports. Bicycling, for example, is done twelve
months a year not three, and it is also done by a much larger per-
centage of people than the select few who have the access to ski
resorts. When you consider that the average skiing season is only
three months long, with the average person only making one or two
trips a season, you begin to realize just how dangerous this sport is.
It is in the resorts best interest to sway you towards skiing, so natu-
rally any information they provide has a slant on it. I might also add
this information isnt taking into account lift failures or accidents.
Chapter 4
Parenting
Yo, Big Al! Rob, a regular on the mountain, who I believe was
around fourteen years old, was shouting at me from the back of the
line. It was midday, and I was running the western-most lift, the
Borlick. I sighed heavily and looked over at Kevin, who was man-
ning the line.
Kevin laughed and said, You have a friend.
I signaled Kevin over to take control of the lift while I ran
through the huge crowd of kids to see what Rob wanted. I was
guessing he wanted me to get him to the front of the line or to tell
some kids that I knew him. The kids were sweet, but could often
forget that I wasnt riding around on the mountain with them; I was
at work.
Theres someone hurt, outside of the terrain park, said Rob.
Describe, I said coolly. I loved it when people got hurt.
It was a little girl, wearing pink, she is crying pretty loudly and
her leg is twisted around backwards, she has blonde hai
He was already out of my earshot, I flew through the lines,
there was a really cute girl in green ski pants, but no time for that!
Although her ass did look really good, and she had the most amaz-
ingly tan skinno time! My boots buckled into the snow as I ran
as fast as I could through the sinking slushy ground. I lurched into
the shack at the bottom of the Borlick, almost slipping on my way
inside. I snatched the radio from its holster and turned to the proper
channel.
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65
Bottom of the Borlick to Ski Patrol.
Ski Patrol, go ahead, cracked an older voice over the radio.
Little girl injured, outside of the terrain park, pink jacket,
possible leg injury, blonde hair, riders just reported it, I panted
heavily. Immediate response requested, immediate response
requested.
Looking back Im not sure why I said immediate response
requested. It wasnt as if they would get the call then casually
buckle up their coats, eventually making their way down the moun-
tain after tea and fruitcake. I guess I was just lost in the moment and
enjoyed the sense of urgency that made everyone in the nosy crowd
peer around the corner at what I was doing.
Copy, were on it, said the voice.
Now the odds of me ever finding out what happened to
her were slim to none, but at least my part was done. I didnt
have to worry about the little girl anymore or what her fate
would be, it would be tied into the hands of Ski Patrol. For the
most part liftees hated them, mostly because we were envi-
ous of the sweet position they had on the mountain. They did
have their glorious moments, though, and this would be one
of them.
I walked back to the middle of the line, clutching the radio
to give an aura of importance and authority. For some reason,
rushing off urgently then returning with a radio always made me
feel like a bad ass.
Kevin shouted up, What happened, Big Al?
I shrugged back at himi.e., Fuck if I know.
I turned back to tap the girl with green ski pants on the shoul-
der. Maam, I need to know, did you see anything outside of the
terrain park?
She immediately sensed my urgent tone and saw I had a radio.
No, I didnt, sir. Why, is everyone okay?
Theres a little girl badly injured up top, I said, looking as
compassionate as I possibly could. Were trying to do everything
we can to respond as quickly as possible.
Oh no, will she be okay? She looked genuinely concerned.
What a warm and good person she seemed like. I signaled for the
next in line to go around her.
If Ski Patrol can get there on time, these kinds of accidents hap-
pen all the time, I replied. I started to manage the line and feed the
loading area, jut as I was before.
Do you guys see a lot of accidents here? she asked. It wasnt
until then that I realized she was young, much younger than I
thought. I was praying for eighteen, I would even take seventeen.
She was giving me the body language of an easy score.
All the time, I replied. It can get kind of traumatic, but its all
apart of the job, I guess. Just as the words left my mouth, the radio
buzzed. Perfect timing.
Ski Patrol to Borlick. We got her, shes en route to the ambu-
lance, looks like shell be okay.
Borlick to Ski Patrol, copy that. Huge relief off my chest, I
replied, tuning the radio back to its normal channel and letting out
a faux sigh of relief. That one actually made me pretty nervous.
Really? she asked
They always do, especially when a kid is involved, I said. It was
almost time for me to go up.
Wheres your boyfriend? I asked. Is he coming?
Oh, no boyfriend, she replied. Im here alone.
Really, a gorgeous woman like you? I said. Thats insane.
Here, well ride up together, so we dont slow the lift line.
Okay, she said, smiling back.
Cake.
Kevin caught the chair for us with a mocking smile. He shook
his head back and forth disparagingly as we were loading. I flipped
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him the bird as I pulled down the safety bar, smelling her hair as my
nose brushed up against her.
By the way, whats your name? I asked.
Rachel, my name is Rachel, she said, smiling again.
That is why you should never leave your child unattended on
the mountain. Not only can they get hurt, but also fucked. Im not
sure whats worse, knowing your child is in a hospital bed some-
where or knowing shes in my bed somewhere. A little parenting
goes a long long way.
Helmets
I cant recommend enough teaching your child to ski or ride. It
is hands down the most wonderful sport to introduce a child to.
It presents him or her with such a wide range of obstacles and
challenges, allowing them to mature at a much faster rate. I have
seen, and have been myself, an adult extremely afraid of getting on
the lift. At first I was always the guy fumbling with my partner or
friend, worried about falling, scared of what might happen. It can
be a daunting thing, loading and unloading from a lift. So liftees are
always impressed when they see a six-year-old girl getting onto the
lift by herself.
All children should learn to load and unload by themselves and
learn how to pull down the safety bar and sit patiently in the chair.
It can be that first moment of freedom, where Mom and Dad arent
around to watch them. It builds confidence and lets them, for just
a moment, make their own decisions. Besides, in reality, there are
so many liftees watching to make sure your child is safe they will
almost always be okay. Horror stories aside, the lift is a pretty safe
place. While I admit I am no Dum-Dum, who subsequently found
the kids that fell out of the chair that night and paid them a visit in
the hospital, I do have a line that I wont cross. Im not saying that
I wouldnt fuck anything on the other side of that line. All Im say-
ing is that, in me, in my skewed head where ethics and morals are
warped, there exists a line somewhere.
I also want to stress the amount of problem-solving and think-
ing that goes into both skiing and snowboarding. Learning to stop,
slow, and carve on a board can be tricky, just like the pizza and
French fries routine on skis. There is a very clear system of prob-
lem-solving at hand here. The rush of endorphins their little minds
give them will keep them motivated to accomplish their goals. All
of this will only help your child to find a little niche in skiing or
riding (exercise) and can help lay the groundwork for some very
fundamental problem-solving skills later on in life.
The only precaution I absolutely insist that parents make is hav-
ing your child wear a helmet. This is the number one rule, hands
down. They always need to be wearing a helmet, always. At all times
they must have a helmet, fucking driving to the slopes they need to
have a helmet on. If you cant afford to get him or her one, dont
take them until you can. If they forget it at home, turn around and
get it. Either that or dont let them go riding. I casually brag about
getting underage girls drunk and giving them rim jobs in movie the-
ater parking lots. If I am telling you your kid needs to wear a fucking
helmet, you know that shit is serious.
If helmets were bullshit, I would have no problem saying so,
but they one hundred percent are absolutely crucial. They save lives
and prevent serious injury more than you can imagine. Helmets are
quite simply a must.
Bloody Sunday
Kevin had been working the top of The Aberration all night. It was
cold out, windy and icy. We should have closed hours prior, but
our greedy bosses wanted to milk every last penny that they could
out of the customers. We were open out of flat-out resilience; our
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managers didnt want to call it. This is probably because none of
the managers actually spend any time outside in the painfully cold
weather. Im confident if any one of them had to leave the heated,
carpeted buildings they spent most of their time in, playing solitaire,
they would have had a different attitude. At least Kevin was in the
shack, though. He was the hardest worker out of all of us and I genu-
inely felt bad for him. They were never going to promote him, it was
a completely permission-based world. You getting hired wasnt based
on skill or experience, it was all about who you knew. Either that, or
the color of your skinlegit; there were less black people working
at the ski resort than at most KKK gatherings. Kevin bit his tongue
just the same and remained a hardy worker. He could be trusted with
a double tour of the top shack. He was less likely to smoke a joint
like Dum-Dum, fuck a minor like me, or practice witchcraft like
Frank. This is why he would stay up for two to three hours at a time.
Every liftee wanted that position, being able to stay up for more than
an hour was awesome. It was essentially a break. You got out of the
cold; if you had food or drink, you could bring it up and dine while
you were tucked away from civilization. It had heat and a radio, not
to mention it was the ideal place to text message your friends and
arrange dinner plans. I never once saw Kevin on his phone, though;
that might be the reason he was a better liftee than me.
I was loading people up at the bottom of The Abberation,
doing the mashed potato. The mashed potato was a dance I learned
to master early in the season, as it was an efficient way to keep
warm while standing still. It was a typically freezing cold night,
we were just waiting out the clock until it was time to go home.
As two skiers were approaching the loading bay the lift came to
a jolting stop, the e-brake had been hit up top.
Oh no! Youre so good you broke the lift! I said with a smile.
The men chuckled as I marched into the shack to get the all
clear. I lifted the phone and called the top shack, I could hear it
beep but there was no answer. The longer it takes the top to answer
back, the more serious the accident. A few minutes passed and
things were getting awkward. The crowd at the bottom of the lift
was starting to get slightly rowdy, wondering why the lift wasnt
being turned back on. I shut the door to the shack and frantically
started pounding on the call button.
Moments later Frank came bursting in. Whats up, playboy?
I dont know, Kevin is up top, he hasnt buzzed me back, I
said.
How long has it been? asked Frank.
About five minutes, I replied.
Frank walked over to the shelf with all of the radios lined neatly
in a row. There was a blip as he turned one on. He tuned it to chan-
nel one, Ski Patrol. Sounds of men speaking frantically erupted
over the waves. We need a sled, Ski Patrol to the top of Aberration
immediately, said a garbled voice.
Shit, I said, and I marched out to confront the crowd and
explain what was going on. Someone is injured up top. It will be
just a few more minutes before we can get things going again.
There was silence; as long as you gave people an explanation
they were reasonable and didnt seem to mind waiting. I returned to
the shack to camp the radio. Kevin buzzed me back giving me the all
clear; I started the lift back up and handed the phone to Frank. He
could get the story while I cleared away the queue that had formed
up. I never saw Ski Patrol bringing the girl down, but I did bear wit-
ness to the red, gore-filled ramp on the top of the lift. I could see
where Kevin shoveled fresh snow on top of the blood, but it was no
use, the whole lift was a mix of red and pink, and riders morbidly
unloaded from the lift, carrying faint amounts of blood down onto
the mountain.
A little girl was getting ready to unload, said Kevin. She was
just at the top, when a gust of wind slammed her chair into the
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ramp. She had her skis dangling down, she didnt have them tips up,
man, why didnt she have them tips up?
I dont know, dude I replied.
Her skis dug into the side of the ramp, he continued. The
chair rolled over her, slamming her face into the ice on the plat-
form. There was so much blood, blood everywhere. She wasnt
wearing a helmet, either! How could you let your kid go on the
mountain without a helmet?!
Fuckin helmets, eh? I chimed in.
And her leg! That wasnt the worst part! he yelled. I didnt
think it was possible for legs to twist around like hers was. I was
caught in a moment of helplessness, man, there was nothing I could
have done. What can you do? Exceptlaugh?
Jesus Christ, youre a cock, I said coolly.
I know, but in my defense, seeing that little shit eat ice was
pretty hilarious. Ski Patrol didnt seem to care either. It took them
like five minutes to get here, they were all probably drunk.
I looked over his shoulder at the Ski Patrol shack, which was
less than thirty seconds on foot. Its common knowledge that Ski
Patrol spends their time drunk. They got their own special little
cabin, and unlike the liftees shack, it was very lavish. This prob-
ably had something to do with the fact that Ski Patrol is a separate
entity, and my resort like many others was guilty of bribing them in
exchange for turning a blind eye. Ski Patrol would typically clock
in, ride to the top, get wasted and watch TV for a few hours, do a
few runs, then go home.
Hey man, dont sweat it, this kind of stuff happens, I said. Its
just a little concerning this kind of stuff happens to you all the time.
I was feeding into his insecurities about getting fired. He was still
convinced he would be promoted if he worked hard enough.
Thats my point! I dont want Bella to think that I am always the
one messing up! said Kevin. He was kind of right to be concerned.
A week prior there was another incident where a little girl almost
fell off a lift. We spent a few more minutes commiserating before
he went back down to close up the bunny hill for the night. I was
fortunate to get the details later on. The girl busted her lip open,
which was why she gushed so much blood, but her leg was only
sprained. It wasnt the end of the world, and, truth be told, I think
it was more traumatic for Kevin than the little girl.
The whole incident could have been entirely avoided, however,
if the little girl was just wearing a helmet. She would have laughed
it off, and the lift wouldnt even have been stopped. But instead,
she soaked the lift in her blood, made Ski Patrol spill their beer, and
almost got Kevin fired.
Have your child wear a helmet!
Bullshit Parenting
The bunny hill was always packed with asshole parents. People who
quite clearly just did not, and do not give a fuck. It was always a
blast seeing these degenerate assholes in motion. Every liftee has
their rants about bad parenting. Heres mine.
Have fun. I let the words curl off my tongue as I thoroughly
examined her backside. I could see her pass; it read the name
Claudia. It was freezing outside, probably no more than nine
degrees. I was dying to get off the bunny hill lift and back over to
the main shack where I could warm my hands for just a minute.
It was so cold that even wearing my thick winter gloves had little
effect on keeping my hands warm. It was like stuffing two blocks of
ice into a pillowcase; they just werent getting any warmer.
Sir! Sir! Hes new, can you help him, sir? A rather tall, hefty
man was doing his best to guide his son up the hill alongside him.
It was always hilarious watching someone in a set of skis trying to
help someone else in a set of skis. Even seasoned ski instructors had
trouble getting their students up.
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Yeah of course. I walked over to the boy and lifted him up
underneath the arms, carrying him over to the loading point.
All right, now, bend your knees and look back. When the bar
comes, grab on and keep your skis straight, all the way up the hill,
keep them straight.
He didnt speak, just nodded. The bar came and the boy latched
on tight, and it began to pull him up the hill. Dad already launched
in front, pushing me aside so he could load. He didnt bother to
acknowledge my existence anymore, just grabbed on and took off
to join his son. Not even a thank you.
So, dads, allow me to appeal to you here for just a moment. Its
not our job to lift your child up and load him or her onto the lift, or
to drag you over so you can load. We are simply there to push a but-
ton. There is the stop button, for when your dumb-shit kid falls on
the outside of the rope and just sits there, like your useless trophy
wife does when you seizure on top of her. Then there is the start
button. The one that jolts the lift to a start after we climb up the hill,
to drag your pathetic offspring out of the way, so normal people
dont crash into it. Please consider that it was you who wanted to
nut inside the warm sack of I dont think youre fat, I like the way
you look without a condom. Lucky you, youre a real winner. But
neither I nor any other liftee (at least I hope not, for your sake)
got to experience the same rush of filling up a giant overpriced
cantaloupe with our load. So why not show some gratitude for the
people you are entrusting with the life of your childwhich, oddly
enough, people seem to value far less than their own. I have never
once heard a story of a liftee being tipped. You tip some guy to park
your car, or get your drinks, but not handle your kids life?
Uhm, excuse me? Can you please give me a hand? Im clearly
having trouble here. Speak of the devil, the foxy brunette Claudia
was standing there with her son Dylan. I put on a faux hustle and
pulled the little future date rapist up to the tow rope.
Alright buddy, just like last time, go ahead. He grabbed the bar
and up he went. I looked back to see Claudia checking her phone.
I shook my head, she was paying me no mind anyway. I probably
would have made a comment, or tried to force conversation onto
her. If it wasnt so cold I probably would have tried hitting on her,
but lifting my face from its warm mask was too much to bear.
Oh shit! I ran over and hit the stop, her son had caught his skis
in a mogul and was being hit by the tow bars. I ran up the hill to lift
him out of the way and dust him off.
You alright, little buddy? I asked, but he just giggled. No
sooner than he was standing, did he grab onto the bar alongside of
him.
Alright then, ready to go? Still he didnt respond. What the
fuck, kid, are you a mute? Say something, you little shit.
Alright, Im gonna head back down and start it up again, then.
Okay? Still nothing. If I get a chance to fuck this kids mum Im
gonna sneak into his room at night and break his favorite toy. (Dont
roll your eyes, wives. Fucking liftees, and especially Ski Instructors,
is a fairly common occurrence. Yeah, dude with the shiny new Audi,
Im talking to you. Might want to double check your wifes cell
phone when she comes back from a long day of skiing.) I shuffled
down the hill, my feet were freezing, I pulled out my phone to
check the time. It was quarter past seven; my relief was supposed
to be here fifteen minutes ago to rotate me.
Hes fine, I said, as I looked up from putting my phone away.
Claudia hadnt moved, or even looked up. The woman was still on
her phone, she hadnt even seen her son fall, or me walk up to help
him. Incredible.
So, allow me to appeal to moms here for a moment, because
it isnt just dads that are the biggest offenders of being bad parents,
its you gals as well. Standing at the bottom of the hill while you
text Kathy about what Bill said last week isnt watching your kid.
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I know, technology can be fun, but your life of extreme ease and
comfort comes with a price. Much like your husbands forty-five
seconds of glory, there is a trade-off for you as well. You cant let
the nannies do all the work, on occasion youre gonna have to actu-
ally acknowledge the existence of your child. For a trophy wife I
can respect anything more than rolling over is considered bonus
side work for your husband. But in the real worldwhere hard-
working women fight for an equal chance to actually take care of
their kids; where same-sex couples are persecuted and called into
question as parents, for fostering and loving a child; and where ille-
gal immigrants are sacrificing everything, only to see their children
on a rare trip home once every five to ten years,you look like a
fucking asshole. So put down the mobile, stop laughing, and spend a
few seconds making sure your offspring is still alive. Cunt.
Stop Blaming Your Child
Accidents happen, and they happen often. The lift line is a boring
place, especially when there is a five-minute wait and you are sur-
rounded with a group of like-minded people all chatting away. So
expect to get hit by the chair at least once or twice in your skiing
or riding career. Also, expect to have the lift stopped or slowed. It
really is no big deal.
So it took a little while to get used to how disgustingly shame-
ful parents were. It never ceased to amaze me how quickly people
would throw their kids under the bus. Despite everyone seeing
exactly, what was going on.
Come on, Tyler, pay attention! doesnt get you out of the hot
seat. We only think you are the asshole for trying to place blame on
your child. It is your fault for not watching where your kid is going,
because you are too busy trying to nail the cute single father next
to you. He just wants to bury his face in your ass; he isnt looking
to settle down. Conversely, the hot mom next to you isnt going
to wave you into the bathroom for a quick blow-job. It has never
once happened before, and guess what? It wont. And to think, you
wasted all that extra time in the shower this morning, scrubbing
your cock in case you got lucky. How about instead of fantasizing
about underage girls you keep your focus on your kids, dipshit?
However, when your kid does get run over, or when you get
hit, know whats a lot cooler than trying to place blame on someone
else? Just accepting responsibility.
Oh, Im sorry, I wasnt paying attention, I was too busy talk-
ing. Or hey, why not mix up the liftees day and just be honest. Oh,
hey sorry, man, there is a really cute chick Im trying to seal the deal
with behind me in line. Someone that can accept responsibility is
a badass. Not someone that throws their child out to be publicly
humiliated in their place. You motherfuckers are shitty parents, and
everyone can see it. Nobody actually thinks it was your kids fault;
we just keep focusing on the lift like its not a big deal, but in our
heads were thinking What a coward. Because when you put your
kid out to suffer for your mistakes, you are a coward. Stop saying
bullshit lines like, I would die for my child or If anyone ever hurt
her I would kill them! I doubt you have what it takes to kill some-
one for messing with your child, when you make them take the
blame for slowing down the lift. Youre a hypocritical donkey fucker
and you know it.
Liftee Responsibility
We have none, fuck off.
If your kid cant load him or herself onto the lift and pull down
their safety bar, then they cannot ride the lift. Its that simple. This
debate occurs several times a day, oftentimes it can get pretty
heated. But lets infuse the situation with a little common sense. If
your tiny tot cannot physically load themselves onto the lift, why
would you even want them to ride it? You do understand that they
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are being suspended anywhere from forty to eighty feet in the air,
correct? (Some lifts suspend them even higher than that.) Also,
there is little in the way of keeping them on the chair, aside from a
small metal pole.
Just because everybody is doing something doesnt mean its the
right thing to do. The same applies for safety: just because everyone
else is doing is doesnt mean its safe. Please take a moment to really
consider your childs cognitive abilities, their maturity, and their
basic common sense before you allow them to ride the lift alone. I
would also like to note that loading behind them isnt riding with
them. You are technically riding on the same lift, yes, but if some-
thing goes wrong, you are better off on the ground, where you can
rush to them.
If they fall out of the chair, youre just going to have a front
row ticket to your childs demise. Nobody is going to rush to get
you down, theyre going to focus on your child instead. The words
Oh my God this child is severely injured, quick get that screaming,
frenzied parent down from the lift so they can interfere and slow
down our rescue effort! have never been uttered on the mountain.
If youre a parent that, again, says things like I would die for my
kid then you probably wouldnt let them ride the lift alone to begin
with if you werent absolutely sure they would be able to handle it.
You might think youd jump down, but when youre dangling fifty
feet in the air, with nothing below you but ice and rock, you get a
lot less brave. You might be thinking youre brave enough to chance
them riding alone, thats fair and even reasonable. But accidents
happen, dont think it wont happen to you, or your kid. It probably
wont, no, but it can.
Youd be surprised how many people fall out of lifts (which
you can sue the fuck out of the resort for, I might add, especially if
no liftee tells you to put your safety bar down) on a regular basis;
it happens half a dozen times a week. Although, let me be clear,
people fall out of lifts typically a few feet from the loading dock or
on the unloading dock. It is a much more rare occurrence to have
them fall out of a lift when they are suspended fifty feet in the air.
I would also like to mention that stopping and slowing the lift, in
reality, is a courtesy. Much like tipping at a restaurant. You dont
technically have to tip, just like we technically dont have to slow
the lift. It is extremely easy for us to find an excuse not to. Sure,
we might get yelled at or even chewed out, but were seldom fired
for it. Besides, is making some teenage douche-bag stand around
punching keys on a cash register instead of standing around catching
a chair really that much of a punishment? Getting a liftee fired is a
great way to dick him over, but it isnt comparable to your kid not
speaking right for the rest of their life, because you were banking
on a liftee to be courteous and sharp. I hold so many of my cowork-
ers in contemptthe Weasel, the Midget (a douche-bag that takes
everything too seriously to try to make up for the fact that he was
born short and insignificant)but for the most part, they are all
fairly sharp on the controls. Are they lazy? Yes. Do they sometimes
have poor hygiene and make up wild stories because their lives are
pathetically bleak track records of unrelenting failure? Sure. But to
be fair, they have always been not only extremely quick to react in
the case of a kid being in danger, but extremely reliable and com-
passionate. We might disagree on how to operate the lift or what
classifies as deodorant. But even the scummiest of scum work hard
to make sure your child and you are kept safe. Please dont test us.
The Leash
We understand that youre a clueless parent. How could we not?
When you advertise that fact by dragging your child ten feet behind
you like a dog. We can even accept the fact that you are clearly will-
ing to sacrifice your childs safety for a moment of mild conve-
nience. It isnt a crime to be a self indulgent douche bag. (Or even
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to be a self indulgent douche-bag that writes books about liftee life
and how awesome he is.) But what any decent liftee wont tolerate
is you riding the lift with a harness strapped to your child and a
leash dangling from it.
Saying Its all good or Theres no problem, bro isnt
proof that your child will be safe. Its clear you dont really care
about your childs life. Us liftees dont really care about your
kids life either. But we arent looking to have their blood on
our hands. Im sorry to be the one to break it to you, but the
leash just doesnt work at a ski resort. Backpack straps and belts
entangle more people on the lift chair than teenage pregnancy
does to young boys. Thats why we make such a huge deal out
if. Its an extremely real possibility and we dont want it on our
conscience.
This isnt just a rant, its an actual safety concern of mine.
Please dont overlook this small section, because it can save you
a lot of pain. It goes beyond parenting into just common sense.
Dont have anything hanging off yourself when you load into the
lift chair. Anything lose gets caught with extreme ease in the lift
chair.
When there is a fly-by, and someone caught cant get off the lift,
it isnt particularly bad or dangerous, just embarrassing.
You should get dressed, Im gonna have company over in a
little bit.
It was seven p.m. and I just woke up from a long nap with
Rachel, the ski bunny with the green pants I met on the mountain
two days prior.
I think something is wrong with me. She frowned then
stomped her way off of my king-size bed and into the bathroom. For
the next twenty minutes I tried my best to block out the obnoxious
sound of her vomiting. I was busy trying to roll a few joints before
my date arrived.
I think that E made me sick, she said through the bathroom
door. I never got sick from ecstasy before, I probably shouldnt
have smoked that joint and drank so much.
Yeah, I replied. Probably.
I hated it when girls couldnt get the hint. Dont get me wrong,
Rachel was gorgeous, and I had a great time railing her. She was one
of the few girls that could make me cum hard without letting me
fuck her in the ass. But I had Claire coming over, and while Rachel
was patently nubile, Claire was giving. She would kick off the night
with a blow job, get me high, make me dinner, and let me ass fuck
her.
Rachel also wouldnt shut the fuck up. The sound of her vomit-
ing was getting on my nerves. I finished rolling my joints and got
dressed. I grabbed my keys and ran outside to warm up my car. I
took my time coming back in, slowly trudging back up the steps of
my apartment.
Hey, is your ride almost here? I have to run some errands, I
said.
Yeah, shes almost here, replied Rachel.
Excellent, I said, tossing her jacket in her lap. Wanna walk
out with me?
I guess, she mumbled.
Sorry to make you wait outside, I know its cold out. Im just
in a rush, I said.
Its okay, I guess, she said.
It was quiet as we walked out into the parking lot. I reached my
hand down her shirt and gave her a passionate kiss.
Youre incredible, I said.
You too, she said with a smile. Sorry I dont have my license
yet, Ill get it soon enough.
Its okay, cowgirl, I replied. How long until you get it?
80
Soon! she said enthusiastically. I turn sixteen next month and
my road test is scheduled the week after!
Great, be good, I said as I slammed the door of my Subaru and
drove around the block to check my email.
A few minutes later she texted me. Friend just got me, see you
soon.
I put down my phone and drove back to my apartment. I only
had twenty minutes until Claire got there.
Chapter 5
Mountain Life
I could hear the jingling of jewelry and the tapping of heels. Claire
was making her way up the stairs to my apartment. I slammed shut
my laptop and pulled up my pants. I was stroking my cock before-
hand, so she wouldnt have to suck for too long before I came.
Hey, I said. Wanna beer?
Hey, she replied, her voice piercingly obnoxious. Yeah of
course, Id love a beer!
There was always that awkward moment before opening the door,
but I realize it must have been a lot more awkward for her. Being in
her thirties made her more vulnerable to rejection, which I exploited
all the time. You dont do ass-to-mouth? Wow, youre old-fashioned.
Its so warm in here, she said.
Heat is included in the rent, I said, passing her a beer. Us lift-
ees dont make a lot, so we take it where we can get it.
Im surprised you can afford this place on two hundred bucks
a week, said Claire.
I cant, Ill probably be evicted in a few months, I said.
Well then you can always come and live with me, said Claire.
What about when I bring home girls from the mountain? I
said.
Well then youll have to share, said Claire.
That wont be too tricky, I said as I reached into my kitchen
cabinet, pulling out a joint and freshly ground pu-erh tea. Smoke?
Drink?
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Youre so generous! she giggled. Claire was hot, dont get
me wrong, but her fake laugh and desperate urge to be young and
attractive was a major turn-off. I dated a woman similar in age
named Lee a few months prior. She was an office assistant at my
community college, but she didnt have the same urge to be young
and desired like Claire did. I think Claire was desperate because
she was married and did everything she was supposed to. She was
college educated, independent, and married to a handsome young
lawyer. Nonetheless, she was taking the cock of a much younger,
more immature, and helpless douche-bag. Maybe because Lee was
recently divorced she felt empowered. It will remain an unending
mystery in my life.
I fell quiet and started up the joint. A few tokes later and I passed
it off to Claire, who clopped across my wooden floors and over to
my couch, which rested in the center of my empty apartment.
I pulled out my phone and used my apartments sound system
to play funky ambient music. Sitting still together was euphoric.
Three joints later I grabbed her hand and started to rub it.
But suddenly there was a knock on the door.
Knock-knock-knock
It was quiet and awkward; my heart fell out. Who the fuck
could that have been? I checked my phone for any text messages.
I gave Claire a look of what the fuck, and much to my surprise
she didnt seem angry at all, she seemed nervous. She took off her
shoes and quickly carried them into my bedroom. I marched over
to the door and used the peephole.
It was Rachelfuck!
Rachel? I said through the door.
Yeah, hey, Allan, can you please let me in for a minute? she
said. Something was wrong, I could hear it in her voice.
Hang on, I said through the door. I was freaking out, hav-
ing a panic attack. This didnt seem like it was something I could
whisk away. I ran back into my bedroom to see Claire in bed looking
annoyed.
Its some bitch, I whispered loudly.
So, what does she want? This is my time with you now, tell her
to fuck off, snapped Claire.
I would, but shes really hot, I said.
Are you fucking kidding me?! she said loudly.
Stay here, Ill take care of her and send her away, I said.
Fuck you, Im leaving, said Claire. I could see her mothering
side come out. She was reprimanding me like Im sure she did her
kids.
Hey! I said getting loud now. Youre high and youre being
irrational. This is why I didnt want to smoke with you in the first
place. Now lay down and keep your mouth shut, Im gonna deal with
this girl and be back in a flash! Dont forget you have a husband!
She didnt say a word, just sighed and turned around to lie
down.
Hey, Rachel, I said as I stepped out into the hallway of my
apartment closing the door firmly behind me. What are you doing
here now?
Im sorry, is it a bad time? she whimpered.
It is, yes, my sister is here, I said. She just caught her boy-
friend cheating on her, she needs me right now.
Oh my God, Im so sorry! said Rachel.
Why are you here? I asked.
I got kicked out, said Rachel.
What the fuck, you didnt get kicked out, you stupid bitch.
Thats a note to all teenage girls, actually, every older guy knows
damn well you didnt get kicked out of your house. Youre just mak-
ing up a reason to stay over because youre trying to prove a point
to your parents.
I cant have you stay here right now, Im sorry, I said.
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But I have nowhere else to go right now, can I please stay? said
Rachel.
Fuck! This is the only problem with underage girls.
Whisper! I said. Rachel was making an insane amount of noise
and my neighbors were nosier than a Jewish town hall meeting.
Sorry, said Rachel, beginning to blush.
I pulled out my phone and texted Leah.
Me: Need huge favor, with bitch from mtn, Rachel from ski
school showed up, needs place to crash, was fucking her earlier.
Doesnt have a ride.
Leah: Rachel who is 15 Rachel???!??!?!
Me: Not proud, her tits are a perfect 10 tho. Be here in 15?
Leah: 20, and youre buying me dinner tomorrow.
Me: K, Shell be waiting outside.
As I was texting I was unscrewing the light bulb in my apart-
ment hallway.
We have ten minutes to kill before Leah gets here, I said.
Leah? You got her to pick me up and let me stay with her? said
Rachel.
Yup, and she is a good friend so be nice, I said.
Oh my God, I love Leah! I thought she hated me! Thank you so
much! she said loudly.
Her loud voice was driving me insane. I pulled her close and
started making out with her, careful not to slam against my apart-
ment door. I reached down her shirt and started to feel around for
goodies. Her tits felt fresh and she was wearing a different bra, I
guess she showered and changed from before. How she got here
was still a mystery.
I unzipped my pants and pulled out my dick, forcing her head
down. She instinctively fell to her knees and started to give me a very
enthusiastic blow job. I normally wasnt that forceful, or for that mat-
ter that ballsy. But after smoking three joints my inhibitions were long
gone, and my plan appeared to be ballsy enough to work. Because I
was stroking my cock so hard before Claire came, and because I was
high, it didnt take me long at all to cum in Rachels mouth.
Just as I was about to pop, though, I started to come to and snap
out of the comatose ecstasy Rachels eleventh-grader lips were put-
ting me in. There was shuffling coming from my apartment. I could
hear Claire motioning around inside.
I was so close to cumming, though, I didnt care if Claire opened
the door, Rachel freaked out, and they both left. That just meant I
could go about eating my leftover Subway sandwich and watching
The Daily Show in peace.
I burst into her mouth and felt her tongue swirling around my
dick; it was perfect. No time to rejoice, though. I let her finish lick-
ing up and put my cock back in my pants. She wiped off her mouth
and I kissed her sweetly on the forehead.
Okay, gorgeous, now you have to get out of here! My sister
needs me, and Leah will be waiting for you outside, I said quietly.
Okay, she said as she nodded happily. Was it good?
The best! I said.
I cant wait to see you tomorrow, she whispered. Thank you
so much for being so good to me!
No problem, now get out of here, kid.
Rachel stomped down my apartment steps and I ducked back
into my apartment, accidentally slamming the door. I could see
Claire sticking her head out the window, so I made a mad dash for
the lights. She looked annoyed and a little let down, but I didnt say
anything or bother to answer any questions. I wanted to fuck her in
the ass, and it was either going to happen or it wasnt. There is no
way talking would sway the situation in my favor, it would just give
her back some of the power.
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I confidently walked over and started making out with her, I
pulled down her skirt and she pulled me away.
You still taste like her, said Claire.
She still tastes like me, I replied. Now bend over.
Much to my surprise, she didnt smack me and storm out, she
sighed and turned around. I bent her over my white bookshelf and
spit on her ass before sliding my cock gently inside her rectum. She
twitched at first in violent protest, but within five minutes she was
yelling loudly for me to fuck her harder. My apartment was dark so
nobody could see in, but I could see out. Rachel was in the parking
lot, waiting for Leah.
The only reason this worked was because I just stopped giving
a fuck at this point and just went for it. I never saw Leah pull up in
her huge GMC SUV to get Rachel, but I saw tail-lights of a car and
Rachel was gone, so I assumed she got her okay.
My night with Claire ended at four a.m. at the Newburgh diner.
We were bickering about politics after a rich and fatty breakfast. I
finished my tea, paid the check, and walked out of the diner without
saying goodbye. Im not sure how long she waited for me to return
from the bathroom, but Claire never bothered to text or call me
after that. I think we both knew what the situation was. As much fun
as Claire was, she had too many issues that made her more of a drag.
She demanded I show her respect and treat her like a lady.
I would have, but ladies dont do ass-to-mouth with dudes after
the dudes just been sucked off by an underage girl. I was a flat-out
creeper, and I wasnt looking to give that up in exchange for a bro-
ken woman. If she was anything special, her marriage wouldnt be
in shambles and she probably would have enough confidence that
she didnt need fake tits.
Besides, I had smaller fish to fry, namely the rest of ski school.
I could feel my time at the mountain running short and I wanted
to spread my seed as much as possible before then. Dont get me
wrong, working at the mountain was a blast, especially when it got
towards the end of the season, but I had to move on. My reputation
was starting to catch up with me, and the commute was starting
to wear me down. Everything else in my life was suffering, it had
become one giant orgasm, punctuated by a few shifts at the moun-
tain. I started to fall in love with the place and wanted a job aside
from liftee. I would have loved to work in the cafe or the office, hell,
even rentals. If you have no urge to work at a ski resort (and who
can blame you) this chapter still offers valuable information about
the kind of person youre likely to find in each department.
Join Us
There are tons of jobs there, so if you have a decent application and
a forceful smile, it isnt too difficult to get in. Typically, the best
method is speaking with the person at the front desk in the off-
season. Befriending them or even making small chat, usually about
how busy or hectic their lives must be, is the best way. The person
at the front desk isnt just a receptionist, and its important for you
to know that right off the bat. That person will ultimately have a
lot of sway and is always in a fairly high position of power and/or
influence over the hiring process. Ski resorts lay off their entire staff
during the warmer months, so anyone there during the summer is
important.
Make your first impression on them; make it strong, aggressive,
and confident. But what job should you aim to score, and what are
the prerequisites? The biggest myth is that you have to be a badass
skier or rider in order to work at a ski resort. This is largely false; I
was a rubbish rider when I started working at the mountain. Im a
decent snowboarder now, but when I started I could barely stand.
If they ask, just tell them yes, youre proficient. There is no test or
anything like that to see if you actually are any good. As further
assurance, any kind of test would be ridiculous and any notion of
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them testing your riding or skiing abilities beforehand is just silly
(all except Ski Patrol and ski school; there you have to be bad ass).
There are various departments, all of which have their perks
and downsides. If youre older, around the ages of twenty-five and
up, your options are limited. The only places for you are liftee,
ticket office, Ski Patrol, and maybe ski school. All of this depends on
the hours youre comfortable working and how much pay youre
willing to settle for.
Rentals - This is your typical nine-to-five with a few mountain
modifications. Keep in mind, the seasoned veterans (the people
rehired from the previous season) are going to get all of the best
shifts and you will be given any left over hours. This means week-
ends, nights, and holidays. Also, depending on how your moun-
tain is set up, the rental department might have to go on parking
lot duty if it gets too busy and theyre overstaffed. (Although Ive
only heard about this happening at ski resorts in Vermont; it rarely
happens in New York ski resorts, that job is left up to the liftees.)
The other major downside here is that its expected for the rental
department to stay an hour or two after their scheduled shift. Once
the mountain closes, the rental department has to wait for all of the
late riders to return to the shop before they can clean up the equip-
ment and close for the night. The upside to this is that the people
who usually close break off into groupshalf of the staff leaving
to loot the leftover equipment and sell it off for a pretty penny, the
other half designated to stay behind and do the grunt work. I have
no idea if they split the loot or not, I approached them about this
before and they always seemed too nervous to go into details.
The upside to this department is that youre blessed with an
immense amount of downtime. Which is typically spent hanging
out with a group of good guys, getting high, and talking shit. On
especially slow nights, rentals is the first to close up and go home.
Picture a normal bullshit job in a mountain setting with a freakishly
inconsistent work schedule.
If I had a nickel for every time one of the rental guys tried to
bang my girlfriend, Id have enough cash to keep my dates intoxi-
cated long enough that we wouldnt have to go fucking skiing. They
would just be content trying to find their elbow while an array of
purple polka dots distracted them from the fact that I was lubing
up their asshole. Seldom did I try to spring anal sex on a date, but
blowing inside of their ass was common practice, especially for ski
bunny pussy. (You know who you are, and if youre reading this
right now, I appreciate the cash. Thanks for buying my book. Itll go
towards a good causetwo-dollar slices of pizza and cheap beer,
which Ill use to court the next batch of teenyboppers. I would say
condoms, but you know the drill.)
My point is the rental guys are dogs, or more pups. (Liftees are
dogs, they just dont get enough time with their prey as they might
like, so it makes them more difficult to feed.) Typically, there are a
few commonplace archetypes you will find when you enter a rental
shop not only the mountains own rental shop, but any rental
shop, even outside third-party ones which are commonly found in
big skiing and riding communities:
The acne-covered blonde, a boy who can probably name more
professional riders than he can Presidents of the United States;
The black kid, itll be typical for him to have an 80s flat top, an
impeccable body, and a closet filled with sleeveless shirts;
The older guywhy the fuck is some guy in his forties wearing
sunglasses inside? Isnt it too warm for a beanie in here? Why doesnt
he have a shirt on underneath that whack-ass military jacket? These
are all questions that will probably race through your mind when
you see him. He will do his best to steal your girlfriend, and it will
appear as if he is succeeding in his task. But worry not, she is merely
smiling and being sweet. Girls arent into broke old men with beer
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bellies and hairy chests. If you are one, however, reevaluate taking a
date to a ski resort. Thats an easy way to lose your woman;
The general indie kid, hell be sporting a flannel shirt and most
definitely have a beanie and square, black glasses. Dont worry about
him, hes cool. I have mentioned them before, and now is probably
a good time to remind youwhen renting for the season always go
to an equipment rental store. Theyre fairly common and will only
run you about $150 for rentals for the entire season.
Prerequisites: None
Liftee - Hands down the most difficult job on the entire moun-
tain. Without a doubt its even harder than running the entire
resort. Anyone who disputes this fact is an out-of-touch prick that
needs to get a grip on reality. I barely made it through this position
and I was a scheming little faggot the entire time; most all liftees
are. Those who do things the upright honest way dont make it past
the first few weeks. You have to be nothing short of a soldier to
handle it. Dressing warm doesnt cut it; Im not sure if clothes have
been invented yet to keep a liftee warm and if they did we would
never be able to afford them. Save for a mountaineer, it would be
far easier to climb Mount Everest than work at a ski resort for an
entire season. Just to stay safe you have to become a cold survival
expert. You might think you can last and attempt to resist, but after
a few shifts in excruciatingly cold weather, youll do anything to
stay warm. I never thought I would dance to keep warm, but after a
few shifts I had the mashed potato mastered. We used to argue over
who was going to shovel, any back-breaking exercise was more than
welcome.
When looking at our job from afar it seems pretty easy. You
come in and stand around for nine hours, then punch out and
go home. Not to mention every one or two hours you get to sit
down for an hour straight in a heated shack and just zone out. Being
a liftee was give and take, depending on the weather. Some days it
was abuse and borderline torture. Other days it was the easiest gig
in the world. At most mountains they receive lift benefits, but at my
mountain the benefits were restricted. The resort owners daughter
was in charge, and it was the first time in Bellas life where she had
to actually manage employees. After one season of this, the corporate
culture shifted against her, and everyone at the resort hated her and,
worse yet, showed her no respect. After growing frustrated she began
to threaten and attempt to scare liftees, which resulted in a freak-
ishly unruly class of workers. This is an exception to my mountain, as
Ive never experienced a ski resort like this before and dont think I
ever will again. I encourage you to go to allanSaro.com/rants-
bellanotes to see pictures of two actual notes from Bella to the
liftees. But for those that dont have time, the notes read as follows.
Time Clock Note
It seems some of you think that the time clock is for messaging.
It is NOTyou were never trained in using it for messaging. If
you need to request a specific day off you need to put it in writ-
ing and give it to customer service for our mail box no later
than at least 2 weeks in advance, do not consider this approved,
it is just a request. If it is not brought to our attention at least
2 weeks in advance, consider your request denied. If it is prior
to 2 weeks then it will be considered -we will let you know if
it is approved.
-Bella
I have no idea which employees were using the messaging function-
ality of the time clock. But in their defense, we were all told on
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several occasions that there is messaging in the time clock, and we
were encouraged to use it. The second note here was only found in
the liftee shack. It was from the previous season of liftees, who were
equally uncontrollable.
ATTENTION PERSONNEL
THERE WILL BE NO MORE LIFT TICKETS ISSUED TO
ANY EMPLOYEE FOR ANY REASON.
YOU HAVE ALL EFFECTIVELY TAKEN ADVANTAGE
OF THE MOUNTAIN AND IT WILL NO LONGER BE
TOLERATED. DO NOT ASK FOR LIFT TICKETS. DO NOT
ASK FOR LIFT TICKETS FOR YOUR FRIENDS AND DO
NOT ASK FOR YOURSELF. GET YOUR PAPERWORK IN
GET YOUR PICTURES TAKEN FOR YOUR EMPLOYEE
IDPERIOD!
Employees are not to be given lift tickets at any point for any
reason.
LIFT OPERATORS: if you are found allowing an employee
or their guest, to use the lift with no passes/or ids, you also
will lose your job and will be charged for both lift tickets, plus
200% - It will be taken out of your pay.
This is called: Theft of Services and you may also be arrested.
-Bella
IMPORTANT TIP I did some quick fact checking on this absurd
claim. According to the New York State Department of Labor, you
are absolutely NOT allowed to deduct the cost of any stolen goods
from an employees pay. Adding on an extra 200% is particularly
illegal, and so is withholding an employees last paycheck.
Aside from the all-you-can-eat buffet of fresh pussy, you also
get free rentals, and get to ride on the mountain for free. After
or before work I would oftentimes carve the mountain as cross-
training for the warmer months when I would longboard. There
are other unique perks as well. Every hour we would rotate our
positions. We would start at the farthest east near the frozen lake.
Then each liftee would move from the bottom of a lift to the top,
continuing westward until he or she (although it was rare to find a
female liftee) would end up back at their initial lift and start their
magical journey of passive-aggressive chair tipping and ninja-like
texting. Basically the goal of every liftee was to be at the top lift.
Regardless of which one, they were all pretty sweet. Although
the top of The Meteor was by far the best, for the most part they
offered the same creature comforts. When were at the top were
supposed to be looking out for the well-being of customers but,
lol. More than once did we have fly-bys without anybody noticing
until that person made it all the way around to the bottom of the
lift again. It never happened when I was up top, but it did happen
to several other seasoned liftees who were undoubtedly on their
phone. It happened to the ginger midget twice in the span of fif-
teen minutesrough for someone that takes their job so seriously.
So when all is said and done we essentially get multiple hour-long
breaks throughout the day, where we are seated in a warm shack
with the radio on, sporadically pressing a button. God forbid, the
lift ever has to be stopped; we simply grab the phone or radio right
next to us and say, All clear.
So why do I insist that being a liftee is the hardest job on the
mountain? The cold. The cold is unbearable. Also please note that
rotating spots, as a liftee, was a rare thing. Usually resorts put liftees
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where they request on a first-come first-served basis. If you get to
work thirty minutes early you get to stay in a heated shack for eight
hours with an hour relief for lunch. If not, youre stuck out in the
cold for eight hours.
Prerequisites: None
Ski Patrol - This is where its at. Its by far the easiest job on the
mountain. Its the hardest to get into, but once you do, its pure
cake. You get paid decent money to ride around and ski all day with
your friends. As Ski Patrol you can also enjoy an unlimited amount
of comped passes for friends and family, and the hours are extremely
flexible. There is no need to warn anybody about taking time off in
advance if youre in Ski Patrol. You get the gold treatment. You get
screwed on benefits like health insurance, but if youre a trustafar-
ian, there is no better job in the world. For more on Ski Patrol, see
the chapter titled Ski Patrol.
Prerequisites: Skiing or Snowboarding Veteran
Mountain Operations - Also known as mountain ops or the
mountain men, they are in charge of the lifts and oftentimes are
hired for their experience with mechanical lifts. A good majority
of them are ex-military, especially ex-military mechanics. Since my
resort was private, getting a job there was easy if you have an in.
But if you have liftee experience or mechanical experience you
should meet the requisites. On my mountain they had an unusually
broad description which included servicing the lifts and manag-
ing the liftees. On other mountains it is usually to service lifts or
do the extra grunt work. Like a cross between Buffalo Butt from
Good Times and Bear Grylls. From fixing bathroom sinks to direct-
ing traffic in the parking lot, these guys did it all. They did get the
chance to warm up whenever they wanted, but they would have
to experience even more brutal conditions than liftees. At times
they would have to climb up forty-foot poles covered in ice to fix
a loose wire or cable.
Prerequisites: Liftee experience, ex-military is a plus
Office Worker - If youre looking to have fun or get laid, this job
isnt the one for you. Youre typically surrounded by management.
You definitely get the inside scoop, though. When I resigned, one
of the office workers I was sleeping with managed to give me the
lowdown on the resort owners reaction. You are wired to the inner
workings of the resort. So much so that I managed to find out an
absurd amount of information about payroll and scheduling just
from banging an office worker. It was one of my secrets in finding
out who really did the firing, who was really running the show, etc.
You might also get to keep warm compared to a liftee, but this is the
second-hardest job on the mountain. The stress level is through the
roof and its constant. There are lulls, sure, but overall the amount
of shit you have to put up with as an office worker just isnt worth it.
On busy days there are huge queues out the door, packed with irate
customers staring you down as you do your job. I always compared
it to working at the DMV, except you get paid less and there are no
benefits.
Prerequisites: None
Ski School - I am very thankful that God created ski school and then
subsequently pushed all of those teenage girls into my arms. I firmly
believe God has a plan for everyone, and me deflowering young
girls was clearly a part of that plan. My cock would have been far
dryer through the ski season if it wasnt for Lord Jesus Christ. Ski
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school is a bastion for yuppie teenagers with low morals and even
lower expectations. Theyre more than satisfied with thirty seconds
of sweaty grunting and a bit of lubricant on their tummy.
Really, though, what you have to keep in mind about ski school
is the pay, which is God awful. They do have the easiest and most fun
job on the mountain, but it can also be very frustrating. When you
work in ski school, you get paid per lesson, not hourly. It sounds
like a great deal if youre paid twenty to fifty dollars a lesson, but
youre not. You get paid minimum wagethats $7.25 per lesson.
When the odd ski instructor does manage to land a lesson, he
or she only makes seven to eight bucks for the entire hour. Many ski
instructors Ive spoken with complained about making paychecks
of forty bucks a week or less. This compared to the thousands upon
thousands that the ski resort makes each week from ski lessons. Im
not writing this to paint the ski resort as the evil 1%; business is
business and its their right to milk the system and take advantage
of people. Im writing this so people can understand the level of
quality they are actually paying for when they hand their childs life
over to a poorly paid juvenile. In most resorts, there is also a price
of admission to even work there. Ski school instructors are required
to pay $175 for a ski school jacket. Thats roughly six weeks of pay
for most instructors, which means half of the season they are just
working to pay off their jacket.
To be fair, the perks are pretty incredible. If youre young, I
cant recommend it enough. They usually start accepting applica-
tions for this particular job at age fourteen. In exchange, you get all
the mountain benefits and unfiltered access to some of the hottest
girls youll ever get to meet. Its essentially a fraternity of extremely
skilled skiers and riders who in their off time will bomb the moun-
tain as a horde of methodically skilled tricksters. Late one night I
was invited to ride with them and it was quite an experience going
down the mountain with a group of twenty red coats. Oftentimes
ski school has their own personal trailer or cabin, and they are cov-
ered under the ski resorts insurance policy (while working). Every
hour youre required to line up and wait to be assigned a lesson. If
you dont get one, the remaining time is yours to ski, ride, or just
hang out as you wish.
Prerequisites: Fair Skier or Rider
Caf - If you have fast food experience youre good to go. Its the
same thing except youre working in a ski resort and not in a strip
mall. Its in fact the only normal job on the mountain. They open
early to prep and close late to clean. Mornings are slow and used to
catch up on gossip, followed by a slightly busy lunch rush. Dinner
is absolute anarchy, however, and the line will usually wrap around
the cafe twice over. This is because dinner-time is filled with after-
school ski teams and well-off youths. Typically, families of means
pack in so mothers can socialize at the bar and kids can ride around
the mountain.
They are always the first to argue how difficult their job was; how
they were the only ones on the mountain that actually did any
work; how they were the heart and soul of the place. Allow me to
explain. These sugar-titted teenyboppers were and typically are
the only ones with a traditionally orthodox job. They work nine to
five, and they do work very hard. The trade, however, is that they
are forever warm and cozy and they get access to free drinks and
food.
Their day also goes by much faster than everyone elses. While
they are inside, dealing with a huge rush of a few dozen customers
at once, liftees are oftentimes outside in the freezing cold, toes
numb, painstakingly miserable, bored, and pushed to deal with cus-
tomers that will not uncommonly ask for over-the-top requests.
We also have to handle their children, and as far as responsibility
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goes, we are charged with the lives of everyone that rides the lift.
Dropping a burger is undoubtedly bad, but slaying a child is slightly
worse.
The cafe girls typically fill two roles. The first and most impor-
tant is eye candy, the second is keeping liftees busy during break.
Many hours were lost reciting cheesy pick-up lines that women our
own age would swiftly reject as bullshit. Lines that girls in high
school were still falling victim to.
I managed to snag two of them myselfone a remarkably beau-
tiful, sweet, and mature young woman (with an ass that wouldnt
quit), the other a remarkably young, well-endowed young woman
(who had an amazing rack). But both served to help me immensely
in penning this book. They revealed in great detail the personal lives
of both the ski resort owners.
Bella, apparently, settled for the much older Charles. Its a
shame, too. Im confident she could have found someone to toler-
ate her princess attitude and spoiled brat outlook on life aside from
Charles. He seemed nice enough; I never personally had a problem
with him. But I do know several lift operators as well as several
mountain men that had huge problems with him. From his lack of
respect to his temper tantrums, Charles was a chubby douche-bag
that walked right into the position of head mountain man. To be fair,
though, Charless attitude problem was entirely his fault; it was a
well-known fact that Charles had a very tiny penis. He was probably
extremely sexually frustrated (Bella, too) which explains a lot. My
beef with Charles was due to the fact that he was plowing Bella (I
am jealous, Ill admit it).
You dont always have to be a girl to work in the cafe. They hire
men, and it probably isnt a bad thing, being surrounded by girls all
day. The cafe is like the heart of the mountain, it keeps the custom-
ers and employees refreshed and ready to go.
Prerequisites: None
Hey man, said Kevin. He was looking at me nervously. They,
uhm, need to see you down at the managers cabin.
Oh fuck! This was not good, I could see the look on his face, Kevin
was nervous just telling me they wanted to see me. I was about to be
fucked, proper fucked. I started to plan out what I was going to do
if police were there. Act stupid and play dumb, of course, but just
the same I pulled out my phone and texted my lawyer, also a very
close friend of mine.
Me: Might have done it this time, on call to bail me out? Could
be getting arrested at the mountain, fucked underage girls.
Dave: How young? Tool.
Me: Young enough that Ill go to jail, headed to get fired /
arrested now.
Dave: Heading to car now, contact me asap.
I preloaded a text that said Arrested and got ready for the
worst. Surely they are savvy enough to know whats going on. I
walked into the office where I stood face to face with the prune-dry
office worker that looked and sounded like a man.
Oh, you! Wait right there! she commanded. I kept think-
ing about her whore daughters pussy. After all of this goes down,
at least Ill be able to take some restitution that I got to fuck her
daughter.
Allan is here, she buzzed on the walkie talkie.
Bella stormed into the office a few moments later, her cheeks
red from the cold. My heart was beating out of my chest. In a few
hours time I would be in jail.
Chapter 6
Your Rights &
Other Dark Tips
I was nervous as I walked inFuck, did they find out I was sleeping
with one of the cafe girls? No, probably one of the ski school girls.
Cant be that, thats happened before. People hook up here all the
time, its frowned upon but, shit, one of the women that ride the lift?
Shit, that one girl never called me back; it has to be her. She looked
so sweet, though, did she sell me out? Wait, blonde, gorgeous, and
busty? Fuck. I bet shes related to the owner. Shit! Im caught.
I waited patiently at the customer service desk, trying to keep
my cool. What could they possibly have to say? Seriously? Im their
best liftee, the second best doesnt even come close. Who the hell
would they replace me with?
Alright, Allan, come with me. I followed Bella through the
crowd and couldnt help but glance at her wondrous curves. Looks
like the office sex fantasy isnt gonna happen, she seems pretty
grumpy. Malcolm was here too, , it has to be one of the girls. That
has to be it, time to think fast. The door shut behind me, we stood in
the front room. Two on one, she was making me wait beforehand.
Clever woman, she knows her management tactics. Im impressed.
I was getting angry now, ready to say fuck all and give her a piece of
my mind back. I needed some kind of defense.
About twenty minutes ago, a customer came to complain. He
hit his head on the lift and was sitting there in need of help, but
nobody came or stopped the lift. Thank fucking God, I thought it
was something serious.
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He said the lift operator was busy on his phone texting. She
looked stern, her eyes were scolding, and she had that Nordic stance
which I loved so much. I wanted to fuck her so bad. I know its
wrong to say, that I should have been more remorseful and taken it
more seriously, taken her more seriously, but holy fuck she was hot;
smoking hot. I wanted to yank down her pants and bend her over the
desk that she was leaning on. I realize this is extremely sexist, that if
it was a man yelling at me, I would be threatened. I would consider
the consequences. But all I could think about was how bad I wanted
to suck on her tits. I had a deep urge to shove my tongue so far
up her snatch I could taste the remnants of the half-hearted lesser
than child, her pathetic, emasculated husband Charles struggled to
give her. The angrier she got, the more I wanted to rail her.
Oh, whew, I said with a sigh of relief, I thought this was
serious.
This is serious! yelled Malcolm and Bella in unison. Yeah?
More serious than me banging half of your female employees?
Flirting and sleeping with a few dozen customers? Getting under-
age girls high at your resort? Or using the top shack of the lift to
bang girls at night?
Youre gonna have to convince me you dont have a phone on
you, said Bella.
I do have my phone, I have it for work, I said,
What the fuck did you think? This bullshit nineto-five was so
serious that I would be disconnected from my real job for nine to
ten hours straight? Get fucked, bitch.
Why do you have your phone on you, Allan? said Malcolm.
You, too, douche-bag.
I need it, Im sorry, it was on vibrate, though. Bella looked
over at Malcolm, and they exchanged serious looks.
Suddenly it hit meThere isnt any reception! I just realized
I had proof that would clear me. There isnt any reception! I said
again enthusiastically. They didnt seem to be buying it. But! Thats
good, because it brings me to my next bit of helpful information.
How to get a liftee fired. There are in fact things you can do, if
theyre a dick to you.
How To Get A Liftee Fired
At first I was completely blown away that Bella could be fooled
so easily by some random needy asshole and would sell out her
hard-working employees (which are often abused yet stick around
anyway) so quickly. I pieced together what really did happen, while
I was at lunch. As liftees, we are charged with keeping the landing
area clear so when riders and skiers unload from the lift they have
room to slide down. Otherwise the assholes that want to pop a squat
directly in front of it, to laugh off their embarrassing fall, would
queue it up and get clobbered coming down. Dont get me wrong,
I love seeing annoying pricks getting slammed into and knocked
down. The problem here is children, kids that are just learning how
to ski or snowboard, getting knocked into or hurt. I actually wasnt
on my phone texting, solely because my carrier had no signal at that
shack. What in fact happened was extremely clever, and I encourage
you to do the same to any liftee that acts like an asshole. Because as
much as I might degrade Bella, she is a pretty sharp cookie. Well,
for the most part. Im sure she would make an excellent model, or
skier.
But this bullshit story not only convinced her, it also got her to
yell at and stress out her best lift operator. This chicken-fucker fell
down off the lift and wanted to sit down and buckle up in front, not
realizing the danger of where he was. I was in the shack, with lim-
ited view of the people that were coming off the lift. I was watching
to make sure people raised their safety bar and unloaded properly
when I saw a queue. I rushed out to scurry them offas I was told
to do by not only my immediate supervisors but also the owners.
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Now here is the key part. Lift operators HAVE to get their cus-
tomers out of the way. The dirty little secret: the owners and man-
agers encourage us to yell at and be forceful with the customers.
Thats what customer service is there for, to attempt to diffuse your
bullshit complaint, act like they care and get you out of the door.
That way, we can be as big a dick as we want. So, I rushed over to
scurry them off. The customer in question gave me a dumb-founded
look and was clearly humiliated and frustrated. So he decided to
think up a clever little gem of a story: a punk kid on his phone, not
rushing to my aid but instead scurrying me off. He was livid. So he
rushed to the office, said he hit his head on the lift and the teenage
liftee was on his phone.
He probably saw me checking my phone for the timeas there
are no clocks and it is the only way we can keep track of the rota-
tion. But the moral of the story here is that you can do the same
thing, if you are so inclined. Most all lift operators have their phones
on them at all times. Its rare, and increasingly more rare, to see
them without it. All you have to do is head to customer service and
claim that you were injured getting off the lift, and the lift operator
not only didnt stop the lift but was on his phone texting. Also,
keep in mind the ski resort I was working at was privately owned,
which means they are A LOT more lenient with their rules than
large commercial ski resorts. I was also their most flexible, reliable,
and hardest worker. Imagine how fast you could get someone fired
at a commercial resort. Sure, this is a passive-aggressive way to get
things done, but then so is the liftee asshole thats feeling up your
girl when he offers her a hand to get on the lift.
Bringing Your Partner
Please understand that bringing your wife or girlfriend skiing with
you is like throwing a live rat in a cage of starving boa constrictors.
Every employee on the mountain with a penis is checking out your
girl. Most all of them are trying to hit on your girl, and most all of
them are far better riders or skiers than you will ever be. Combine
that with the fact that they are in positions of authority over you and
her both, not to mention on home turf, and you are in a fairly bad
way. Its just the truth, sorry. On the flip side, if youre a girl, youre
in a great way, you have an ocean of men checking you out, and
you will most likely get more attention than you can handle. Please
evaluate not only your skill on the slopes, but also your comfort
level on the mountain. If youre a complete barney, you might not
want to bring your woman to the mountain. Conversely, if youre
a woman thats a complete barney, there is no better place to meet
single guys more than willing to give you pointers.
Pussy Thief
As long as I am on the subject of liftees stealing pussy, I want to give
a reality check to all of you husbands and boyfriends. Yes, its very
clear youve come a long way in life. We all know it must have been
very hard to get through that fancy college that Mom and Dad paid
for. Were very impressed that you went out and bought a fancy
German-executive saloon car, but that doesnt give you the right to
treat your girl like shit. Tuck your gut under your NorthFace jacket
and take a breath, it might diffuse the flush from your chubby red
cheeks, you fat fuck. By the way, those shitty-looking overpriced
Oakleys dont make you look like Jason Statham, they just draw
attention to your receding hairline. When we see you belittling
your woman, we arent impressed, or afraid of your wrath. Mostly
because we arent your mommy, and we dont have to put up with
your soft jelly-like thighs throwing a temper tantrum. Yes, you can
yell at us, and you can even try to degrade us. But were going to
be feeling up your girlfriend as we help her to the lift and there
is little you can do about it. Mainly because she will welcome the
groping, as a passive-aggressive way to get back at you for being
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such a self-absorbed penis wrinkle. Ive been inside enough taken
women to know they are far more passive-aggressive and spiteful
than you would care to know. So nut the fuck up and treat your girl
as she deserves to be treated, because if you dont take care of your
woman, someone else will.
Season Length
Let us retire to a life of fresh powder, heavy waves,
and smooth streets.
The season differs depending on where you are. The rule of thumb
is that the season starts at the first real snowfall. Not a light crop
dusting, but the first serious snowfall is when the season begins.
The reason for this is that while resorts do make their own snow,
it is really crappy snow. Snow can also be very expensive to make,
depending on their setup.
My mountain had a lake to tap water from, so snow was cheap,
and it gave us the monopoly on quality powder. New York seasons
are typically from mid- or late December to mid- or late March. It
all depends on how much snow we get and how long we are able to
keep the snow machines running. The mountains really do run by
what Mother Nature gives them. Vermont and Maine seasons typi-
cally start a bit early, around late November, and last until April or
so. Colorados even further, much like Tahoe. There is good skiing
in Australia during the winter, it all depends on how hard you look.
As I was rewriting this edition of ro- t.. 1|e M.o-o.-, New York
underwent a drastically warm winter, undoubtedly due to global
warming, whereas Europe suffered a much more severe winter. I
was confident that the ski resort would be struggling to survive.
They were slow, yes, but they managed to have all lifts open at all
times. After getting in touch with a few riders and old coworkers
from the mountain, they informed me that the hills have been amaz-
ingly fresh and clear, due to the misinterpreted weather patterns.
Everyone was convinced that the mountain was bone dry
with patches of brown and green earth breaking from beneath the
snow. But its been quite the contrary; freshly minted white pow-
der was everywhere all season. Dont let the weather fool you,
check your local mountains website to see which trails are open.
How Snow Is Made
Customers would ask me quite often how snow was made, so I thought
I would explain. First you need a water source, and an utterly massive
one at that. Like previously mentioned, we had a lake to pull from,
but other resorts will actually use well water, which isnt cheap. Once
you have a water source, you need a pump to bring the water to the
guns, which are more like cannons, so lets just call them that. Water
is then pumped up to the cannons and like a fire-hose shot out onto
the slopes. To get the water to flake and spray out, it is hit with a giant
rotary blade that spins around like a fan. Once the water hits it, it scat-
ters out into raindrops, and the cold weather turns it into a snowflake
seconds before it hits the ground. That is the most effective way to cre-
ate snow. It does, however, have to be around twenty degrees to do.
Otherwise the water wont freeze into a snowflake on time, and you
will only be left with rain. There are about a dozen cannons on the
mountain, strategically placed and maneuvered for optimal dustings.
The giant grooming machine (the snow cat) was used nightly to create
the corduroy patterns you see in the snow. There are other methods of
manufacturing artificial snow, which use chemicals. Artificial snow has
mixed reviews from seasoned skiers and riders. Ive heard some people
tell me its far superior and others tell me, Its totally gay shit, bro. Ive
experienced it only once before and couldnt tell the difference.
Landscape Architecture
It was a bitter cold day; I had just rotated up to the top of the meteor.
It was well insulated, well heated, and it had a very loud radio. I
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could not only work out here, but I could also text, surf the web,
and check my email with ease. I stomped my boots on the steps up,
trying my best to dislodge the feeble planks of wood on our make-
shift walkway (just to be a dick). Churning open the door, much to
my surprise I saw both of my managers working on installing a new
heater. It was cold, the heat and electric had been cut off. Fuck.
Hey guys, I said cheerfully. They were mid-conversation but
quickly turned to greet me. This wasnt typical, they would usually
just ignore any liftee speaking to them if they were mid-conversa-
tion. They knew they were dicking me.
What are you guys up to? I asked,
Just installing a new heater, said Malcolm. It was more like
him to talk; my other manager Austin didnt speak much unless it
was just you and him. Old ones broken.
They continued to tinker around and carry out their conversa-
tion about the Ice Cream Man (one of the other mountain men)
being slightly down at work. He was apparently going through a
tough time and they were expressing concern to one another. The
conversation lingered before Austin left and it was just Malcolm and
I in the box. It wasnt long before we were going over the rough
details of his career up to this point. He was an older man with a
young face, typically white in character and build. He proceeded to
explain his path.
Worked in a paper mill when I was your age. Then moved on
to landscape architecture, and now Im doing pools in the summer.
Landscape architecture? I asked. He went on to explain the
process of grooming lawns and trimming down hedges, and the
finesse that went into installing a giant water fountain on some-
ones front lawn. We had been known to make ice sculptures around
the resort. From snowmen to snow chairs and sofas, it was a time-
killing practice among not only the liftees but ski school as well.
From that conversation I began to use the buzzword landscape
architecture and it stuck. I started to craft steps at the base of the
bunny hill. I would expand and refine them when I could. Others
began to dig out coolers and refrigerating systems for their lunch.
A good majority of the guys working on the mountain were
handymen. With little work in the winter, they would take this
job to keep busy. This resulted in a group of craftsmen with lots
of time to kill, and the innovation broke out from there. I became
the steward of the bunny hill steps. Dum-Dum was in charge of the
Borlick sculptures, with the Midget and the Weasel not taking part.
The Weasel despised exercise, and the Midget despised any form
of tomfoolery, in hopes his good behavior would make him grow
taller. An assortment of liftees worked on The Aberrations refriger-
ating/chair system and eventually the steps, and Dum-Dums sculp-
tures became a group effort. The amount of time spent working on
the sculptures instead of doing our actual job was staggering, they
became works of art and labors of love. Oftentimes liftees would
forgo their rotation, staying in miserable spots in hopes of being
finishing up their sculptures. If youre looking for a decent cardio
routine, shoveling snow is the best you can get on the mountain. We
arent allowed to board during work, but we are sometimes forced
to shovel. When the lift was perfect and there was nothing else to
shovel, we would turn to sculptures.
Fun With The Lifts
I peered out onto the mountain. It was cold; icy cold. A storm had
blown in and I had spent the past few hours coddled inside my liftee
jacket, tipping chairs for renegade riders stung by the snowboard-
ing bug. I had been at the bottom of The Aberration for nearly an
hour and I was desperate to get up to the top. Frank had just gone
up, I was waiting for Kevin to rotate back down so I could head to
the bathroom and find Leah. I didnt set up plans for that night, so
it meant I had to scramble to get any fresh snatch I could get my
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hands on. It was fairly dead except for ski school; they were mak-
ing rounds on the mountain in their red ski school coats. For some
reason I was always reminded of the British invading on skis.
Due to load was a kid named Trip, a yuppie teenybopper
who was more lusted after than the new iPhone. All of a sud-
den I saw Kevin come gliding into the loading dock from the
whiteout.
Shit! I thought to myself, and I slammed on the slow for him
to unload. He had plenty of time, and on top of that that it was rare
liftees had the lift slowed at the bottom, they were pros at mounting
and dismounting without the slow engaged. But for some reason
Kevin didnt dismount. I could hear the bull wheel clunking and
creaking under the added weight as his chair whipped around it.
Trip, the nubile teen, stood looking helpless at me. I was ready to
slam on the stop when I caught the look on Kevins face; this was
deliberate. He snatched her up, pulling down the safety bar, and
they were ascending up onto the mountain once more. Typically I
would be livid, but I was glad someone was sealing the deal with
her, or at least trying to. What Kevin did was called a fly-by, a
bottom fly-by, which was an offense most liftees were instantly
fired for. A fly-by is when a person remains in the chair and rides it
around the giant wheel (the bull wheel) at the top or bottom. If you
ever begin to go around the bull wheel one of three things will hap-
pen. In a perfect world, the liftee at the top (there is one, even if you
cant see him) will stop the lift. He should then run out and proceed
to help you down from the chair before the chair sets off to head
back down. On occasion, the liftee will miss it because he or she
is distracted, texting, helping someone else, or just zoning out. In
which case you will likely hit the safety gate, a metal bar with a sign
draped over it reading Hit to stop. This was removed routinely at
my mountain, in order to keep the resort running when it was too
windy. By law if it gets to become a safety hazard the resorts have to
shut down, however at my ski resort, we were instructed to ghetto-
rig the safety bar (which would blow out under extremely windy
conditions) and keep going. (Video of what a lift looks like without
a safety bar: allanSaro.com/no-Safetygate.)
Oftentimes people will instinctively pull up their legs and
attempt to miss it. Dont. Hitting the safety gate makes everyones
life easier, the liftees and yours. The bar is there to stop you so
the liftee doesnt have to, he will likely just come out, help you
down, reload the bar, and send you on your way. There is nothing
wrong with hitting the bar, youre not going to get into trouble or
be given a talking to, it was an accident and most all resorts under-
stand that. The third thing that can happen is that, if the liftee isnt
paying attention and you miss the safety gate, you will ride the lift
back down. Again on the bottom of the lift there is yet another
safety gate, which will stop you. If you lift your legs up and pass
over both of these safety bars, and both liftees dont see you, you
will end up crashing into the person waiting to load. Youre just
going to get slightly banged up, its not a big deal, and this is highly
unlikely because liftees are extremely attentive when it comes to
the lift chairs.
Please be warned, however, that doing a fly-by will be forgiven
only a few times. If it keeps happening, and you keep riding around
the bull wheel, you will likely be asked to go back to the bunny hill.
Riding around the bull wheel has the potential to dislodge vulnera-
ble equipment that keeps the lift balanced. Resorts have a short fuse
when it comes to keeping their equipment safe. Fly-bys, though
possible, should be avoided. Saddle pops, on the other hand, can
be great fun when with an experienced partner. The saddle pop is
one of those borderline pranks that for some reason society still
accepts. Its like putting a plastic bag over your head as a kid; for a
little while, that was cool. But a few episodes of 60 Minutes later,
and its a mortal sin.
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When youre unloading at the top of a lift, you stand up, and
gently glide down the off-ramp towards safety. But when perform-
ing a saddle pop you simply launch off the chair as hard as possible.
Once you touch your board or skis down on the off ramp, you use
your hands to press off the lift chair as hard as possible, pushing
down on the seat and lurching yourself forward to safety. This will
cause the chair to jerk back and throw the other person off bal-
ance, more often than not causing them to spill over and get caught
under the chair. Your goal is to swing back the chair as far as pos-
sible, knocking the chair back so its swinging violently when your
partner tries to unload.
Gaming The Lift Line
Mom! Oh my God, Mom! Please! I need to go with my mother!
Please, sir, I need my mother!
The Midget grabbed the boy and placed him next to another
little boy, similar in height and size. They were next in queue, much
to their parents dismay. Fear overtook their faces and they began to
move sluggishly slow as their time drew nearer.
Son! Where is my son?! Where are you taking my baby boy?!
He needs me with him, I need to be with my son! Please sir!
A look of shock and guilt swept over the mothers beautiful
face. I noticed in passing that she was a trophy wife, another small
detail I would soon forget as the next batch of people were lined up
to queue. The Midget and I methodically stalked the crowd moving
from pair to pair.
Was this a scene from the Holocaust? No, its an average week-
end night at the mountain. The lift lines were jam packed as usual,
and needy parents were desperate to either get matched with both
of their kids or eager to ditch the older one while they accompa-
nied the younger. As always, the young, wannabe business crowd
is eager to stay paired in their group of three. You know who Im
talking about. Doug, Mitch, and that cute blonde receptionist Doug
is trying to show off in front of. Youre not that good, dude; give it
the fuck up; she is just coming out because she made a New Years
resolution to meet new people. You guys will hang out like once
more, probably at Dave & Busters, and then just like each others
statuses on Facebook for another four months before all communi-
cation just stops.
If you look to your left and then your right, youll notice one
or two liftees weeding through the crowd. What are they doing?
Checking passes? Perhaps. Hitting on your girlfriend? Probably. But
more likely theyre looking for singles (riders, not girls) to pair up
with other singles (riders, again, not girls). Regardless of their posi-
tion in queue, they dont want to risk sending up a person alone, or,
God forbid, an entire chair empty!
Let me explain. The biggest problem is singles. A chair with
one person instead of two is a big no-no, almost as much as a chair
going up empty. Its something that resorts reinforce in their liftees
minds as a huge fuck-up, so we try to avoid it as much as possible.
This means when the lifts are really packed we will head out into the
lines to look for singles in the crowd to pull out and pair with other
singles. Typically, we wait until a single appears then pull them aside
and search for another. We have to weed through and ask people
individually; even with shouting there is always one sheep fucker
that just isnt paying attention. So to speed things up a bit we will
walk the line and shout out for singles. Now there are always one or
two sharp cookies that catch on to the scam here. All you have to do
is ride single and be very proactive and tactful about being seen and
heard. Whenever you hear a liftee shouting for singles, you shoot
your hand up immediately. Even if someone is tagged before you,
they will likely pull you aside just the same, or at the very least be
mindful of your spot. This will guarantee a spot ahead in the line
far before Doug and Mitch. That way you can skip ahead and flirt
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with the cute blonde receptionist yourself. (Besides, girls like that
are just talking to Doug for attention; nobody actually marries the
bald guy. Could you imagine what her sister would say behind her
back when she brought him around for Thanksgiving? Catty bitch.)
Just practicing this technique a tiny bit can mean the difference
between licking the tit sweat from the crease Shellys sports bra
made and jerking off to Internet porn at two a.m. while you eat
leftover Arbys.
Chapter 7
Ski Patrol
It was the end to an extremely busy weekend. I got in early, seven
thirty a.m., and it was now five minutes past six p.m. and Bella had
called an emergency meeting. For her to have the audacity to keep
us late without warning and then call a meeting was pretty ballsy.
But then Bella was a ballsy kind of a woman.
We lined up inside the lodge at our usual meeting place.
The owner was inside playing pool along with a ski patrolman.
Conceptually it seemed like a really nice family, a wonderful work-
ing atmosphere that was long since lost, ever since Bella took the
reigns. I was fortunate enough to get to intimately know several
employees of the mountain that had been there for many years. All
of whom concurred that ever since Bella took over from her father
it was a total nightmare.
Actually, lets go outside, to the picnic tables, said Bella. There
were a few groans from the liftees. We were all freezing, dying to
get inside. I kept glancing over at Frank; he always seemed to know
what to do. Whenever we got into a sticky situation like this I looked
over at him, to see how he was handling it. It was impossible to pry
his cool away from him. We sat down and she did a few last-minute
checks before unleashing into a torrent of rage and anger. She began
to berate each and every one of us.
You treat customers with fucking respect! They are human
beings, and they are the ones that are paying your paycheck, lets get
that straight! she screamed.
Wrong. You pay our paycheck, bitch. Im pretty sure if the
customers were the ones cutting the check, they would drop us
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a few more dollars each week. It is a huge misnomer how much
liftees make. Customers are oftentimes shocked and downright
afraid that you are pulling just any jerk-off douche-bag in from
the street to be in charge of their lives and the lives of their loved
ones. You work us to the bone for minimum wage, which is why so
many employees walk out. Now youre saying we arent working
hard enough, and you want us to take on the extra responsibility
of customer service? Nut up and take responsibility, you under-
worked dingleberry, if customers are unhappy, its your fault, not
ours.
If I hear one more of you guys yelling at a customer or anyone
for that matter, she yelled, I will fucking fire you! We dont yell at
people! Not each other! Not customers! Not anyone! Treat people
with fucking respect!
I was in shock, Id never encountered someone so clueless
before. I dont think she was intentionally a thunder-cunt, just igno-
rant and lazy. Who else would ask someone to get up at six a.m.,
when its ten degrees Fahrenheit outside, drive an hour to work,
then ask them to stand in the freezing cold for eleven hours straight
without any kind of break, scolding them when they go to the bath-
room? Then treat them like shit, by consistently disrespecting them
and asking them to overextend on what their paycheck compensates
them for? Pay them only minimum wage, then scream and curse at
them while preaching a message about how we shouldnt scream
or curse at people and how we should treat them with respect? Are
you out of your fucking mind?
Ski Patrol personally came up to me today at least two dozen
times to complain about a liftee yelling at a customer, or not paying
attention, or not slowing the lift, she continued.
I should point out that she was the one who told us to do all of
those things. When customers queue up at the unload area of a lift
we are told by resort owners to yell at them and get them out of the
way as soon as possible. She literally instructed us to do all of those
things less than a week ago. Being a liftee was a pain in this aspect;
customers would bitch at us for doing what our bosses told us to do.
Then when the customers complained to our bosses, they yelled at
us for yelling at people.
Ski Patrol is the eyes and ears of this place. You might think
youre getting away with murder, but trust me, we have cameras set
up now and Ski Patrol reporting in regularly.
God, I wanted to stick it so bad. She was a little chubby and
extremely bitchy, but that was to be expected of a spoiled prin-
cess who was handed everything in life. Her husband Charles had
also managed to snake his way into a position of power, heading the
mountain ops crew after a mere few years of service. They looked
like a pair of clueless, spoiled kids, helplessly trying to get their
heads around the situation. It was more them playing resort owner
than actually being resort owners. This is why, at the outset of writ-
ing this book, I absolutely loathed Ski Patrol. Now allow me to put
into perspective what Ski Patrol actually does and is actually sup-
posed to do.
Ski Patrol is a lot like the ESRB (Entertainment Software
Ratings Board). They were set up by the video game industry to
provide a rating system for games and to keep censorship and the
government off their back. Ski Patrol is similar; they were set up by
skiers and snowboarders with the best intentions in mind, and for
the most part they do their job admirably. The underlying problem
here is that the ski patrolman is most often best friends with the
resort managers. So they probably have a pretty deep-seated loyalty
to the resort and would rather see you suffer a bit than shut down
the resort. Its dark, but its a split-second judgment call, not made
by proud warriors who have taken an oath, but rather by soft, aver-
age, boring, weak people who just want the problem to go away so
they dont have to deal with it.
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The Gray Area
It was my first day back after the scolding Bella had given me.
Despite jerking off several times to the website photo of her, I was
still a walking hard-on. Whats the saying? Young, dumb, and full of
cum? That was an understatement; a mere glimpse of her gave me
more wood then Paul Bunyon.
Ive worked in construction for over forty years, and never
once have I been talked to like that. I was listening to Jay vent. He
was a part-time liftee and one of my favorite people to work with.
For someone his age, he was extremely bright. And by bright I mean
his views aligned exactly with mine, contrary to the typical outlook
of the modern elderly.
I just dont want to be disrespected, he said sternly. Tell you
the truth, if she started calling out names and putting us on the
spot? I would have told them to take my jacket, because I was done.
Guess he wasnt the only one that fantasized about quitting so
much he ran through what he would do with his jacket. I had gone
through the thought process several times myself, and because I
had become so brash and aggressive about hitting on teenyboppers,
which was obviously illegal, I started to clear out my jacket when-
ever I was called in for a talk. It had been getting warmer as the
season thawed, from icy winter to cool spring. The nights werent
so bad on the bunny hill anymore. I relieved Jay from his post, skip-
ping the usual rotation. I probably could have avoided the bunny hill
shift altogether, but I liked Jay, and didnt mind the bunny hill in the
warm weather.
Youre good to go, man, I said,
You sure? asked Jay. He looked back one final time to make
sure I was happy where I was before marching into the lodge. At
nights it was common for liftees to retire into the lodge to buy a
quick snack or to de-thaw. The management was always scarce and,
in the few hours before close, nearly non-existent. Any managers
that did exist became a part of the team more than anything else.
As Jay disappeared into the lodge, I began to review the hill, sort-
ing out possible activities to keep me entertained. Rotation was
supposed to be an hour, but more often than not you got left at the
bunny hill by the lazy liftees like The Weasel.
The sun had just disappeared over the horizon when I caught a
glimpse of ski school at the top of the hill. Nobody was using the
lift so I was all clear to run up the hill and get some cardio in. As I
was coming down I saw an older man hiding behind one of the giant
floodlights on the bunny hill. He was wearing sneakers and wielding
what looked like a Nikon D90.
Hey, hows it goin? I asked,
Yeah? Sup, guy? He was definitely older, he looked like he was
in his fifties.
Im sorry, sir, but you really cant be up here without the
proper shoes and a pass, I said politely.
Yeah, dont worry about it, Im a skier, thats why I knew to
stand by this light so Im out of harms way. He was serious.
Even still, sir, Im afraid Im gonna have to ask you to leave the
hill without the proper equipment and a pass.
You fucking kidding me? You know this whole day has turned
into a disaster and now youre saying I cant even take a few pictures
of my kids?
Dude, I said with a huff. Im just trying to do my job, man.
Yeah? Well scurry off and do your little job in a few minutes.
Okay? he said.
I had a few possible options here. I could have insisted he leave
and rejoice in his shit fit. Which I apologize for not doing as it prob-
ably would have made for much better reading. I could have called
Ski Patrol, which also would have been equally hilarious. Or I could
have agreed to his request and walked back down the hill. Instead
I remained silent. I didnt nod or acknowledge his statement at all,
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I simply walked down the hill back to my post. I turned around
to look up the hill at him, but before I could he was already down
the hill. I guess he began marching down behind me just the same.
But why is this relevant? What would have really happened had
he decided to push this issue and I decided to push back? I would
have won, yes, but the definition of winning is a blurred line here.
Winning in this case is in terms of ego, and not actual goals being
accomplished. His goal was to stay on the hill for a few more min-
utes and takes photos of his son. (Or the little boy he was creeping,
he could have been a predator just the same, who knows?)
Now realistically how long would it have taken Ski Patrol to
get up to the top of the hill? At least five minutes. And if they were
right next to me and actually paid attention to me hailing them
down, it would still take a few minutes. What would they do? In the
most extreme cases ask him and his son to leave. But either way he
would have gotten his pictures and Ski Patrol would have given him
a warning. The thing to remember here is that nobody really cares.
Ski resorts really dont care about you at all, theyre very good at
pretending they do, but their main concern is your wallet. The man
folded like a coward, he should have stayed his ground and focused
on taking the few shots he wanted. Worst-case scenario, he would
have been given a slap on the wrist. Ski resorts dont want prob-
lems; they just want your money.
The Real Statistics
If one were to look up the actual safety figures from the sport of
skiing and snowboarding, one would be relatively reassured. On the
official NSAA website (www.nSaa.org) there is a 2006 article
assessing the issue of safety on the slopes (www.allanSaro.com/
nSaa). In that article it paints a relatively safe view of skiing and
snowboarding. (Curiously, the URL has been changed since the
original publication of this book; it has been copied to my website,
just in case it curiously changes again) How does it paint this safe
view? By comparing it to every other sport in an extremely biased,
unrealistic way. It shows the safety figures of skiing alongside the
safety figures of other sports. For obvious reasons this is very unre-
alistic, and I would even go so far as to say fraudulent. But then I
would also go as far as to write a book about getting fucked in the
ass with a strap-on and penetrating teenage girls, so you might also
want to take that into consideration.
Let me explain how just a tiny bit of perspective can throw
their statistics out the window. The source for their statistics on ski-
ing and snowboarding is the NSAA. Thats right, the NSAAs actual
source for the statistics of their survey is themselves! They give us
no idea or even hint as to where they have acquired such informa-
tion, or where they pulled their polling numbers from. They merely
present the numbers. The other sports safety figures are drawn from
reputable associations. The stats for other sports are a few years out
of date. To be fair, getting up-to-date figures for each sport is nearly
impossible and would require organizations to spend a significant
amount of money. Also, they have no obligation to provide such
information to the public. The NSAA is merely there to educate
and help provide more relative information on the sport of skiing.
The survey compares skiing to bicycling and swimming, but it
makes no mention that these are both sports which can be practiced
year round. In a country as large as the US, especially where indoor
swimming pools are so common, a person anywhere can go swim-
ming or bike riding nearly any time they wish. It is true that the
majority of New Englanders (Americans that live in the Northeast)
wouldnt swim in a pond in the middle of February, but the gym
scene is fairly active, as well as the bicycling scene. Elsewhere, in
the Southern states such as Florida, Texas, and Louisiana, biking and
swimming are always in season. Skiing and riding are in season a
few months out of the year in very sporadic locations throughout
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the US. Take into consideration the small window that is the skiing
season, added with the very small number of people that partake in
the sport, then the number of times people go, and in reality you
have an extremely dangerous sport. It was rare to see regulars at
the resort; there were some, of course, but the majority were skiers
who came out only one or twice a season.
Lets also consider that skiing is a regulated sport, which
requires permission. In order to go swimming you jump into a body
of water. In order to ride a bike, you hop on a bike. Yes, you have to
purchase a bike, or you can rent one, but nobody tells you how you
can or cant ride it. In order to ride down a mountain you have to
sign a fucking waiver. Thats right, you have to sign a fucking con-
tract, and then in most cases carry that contract around with you
all day long. Dont believe me? Flip around your ski pass and read
the fine print on the back. Thats the contract. When you consider
that skiing is regulated by Ski Patrol, a mountain-full of employees
making sure you follow the rules, and safety precautions put on all
of their equipment, you understand how dangerous it is.
Compared to bicycling and swimming, which have none of
these things (except under hyperbolic circumstances), the statistics
provided by the NSAA are also extremely diluted. Any swimming-
related injury or death includes any water-related incident. They
add in anyone who fell into a body of water and didnt know how to
swim. (Oh Im serious, check out the article and see for yourself.)
For bicycling they add in anyone hit by a motor vehicle. Thats like
adding in anyone killed while walking, because they happened to be
walking when they were killed. Someone getting hit by a car died
from getting hit by a fucking car, it doesnt matter what activity
they were partaking in while it happened. (Except for gardening,
if you were gardening and got hit by a car, you deserve that shit.
Gardening is fucking stupid.) So basically the two sports they just
happened to randomly sample from also happen to have two of
the highest causes of fatalities known to man: drowning and motor
vehicle accidents.
To give you some liftee perspective, it was extremely rare that
an accident would get as far as the Emergency Room. My per-
sonal ballpark is that one in twelve accidents go unreported and
are merely treated by Ski Patrol. Unfortunately, the standard gov-
ernment offices, which regulate records on injuries, had no data
available for skiing. They did, however, have the real statistics on
snowboarding. So I spent thirty minutes contacting the CPSC to see
if they could help me out. According to the US Consumer Product
Safety Commission, in 2009, there were over 54,000 reported
Emergency Room incidents involving snowboards alone. Thats
right, snowboards alone. In my experience, it was very rare to take
an injury to the ER, even if it was a pretty serious sprain or wound.
Typically, kids and adults would just call it a day and go home to
walk it off. If we add in skiing and all the unreported injuries, take
out any regulation or supervision, then multiply it to account for
a year-round sport, I am pretty confident the total would utterly
destroy the inflated injury and fatality figures of swimming and
bicycling. So what am I saying? That skiing is an insanely danger-
ous sport and you should never partake in it? No, I am saying that
the sport is extremely dangerous and you should be aware of the
risks. Always wear a helmet, always refine your technique before
you leave the bunny slope, and learn how to fall properly. That way
you wont have to deal with douche-bag ski patrolmen as often.
Its Just A Job & Youre Not
Signing The Checks
When I first started writing this I actually loathed Ski Patrol. When
trying to understand them conceptually, its not a far stretch to
reach the conclusion that they are a group of trustafarians. Spoiled
brats with limp wrists, these are try-hards with little to no concern
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about safety. But I bit the bullet and decided to get to know one or
two, I even tried dating one, and after I was swiftly turned down I
realized they are smarter than meets the eye.
Is Ski Patrol there to help you? Yes and no. They are there to
help the ski resort first and foremost; if they can help you along
the way, thats cool, too. Some ski patrolmen and women take their
job more seriously than others. But its rare to find one that will
make you a priority over the ski resort. Instead of rolling the dice,
though, why not just assume that theyre all out to screw you over
and benefit the resort?
If youre ever injured on a ski resort, seek outside help. Despite
their diagnosis, you should without a doubt seek a second outside
opinion. If you think its even mildly serious, head to the Emergency
Room. They are very cautious about this, because the law states that
if you are injured due to improperly maintained ski slopese.g.,
mogulsthey, meaning the ski resort, are at fault. Once you buy a
lift ticket, you accept the risk of the sport. However, if you happen
to hit a man-made obstacle, placed there by the resort, it is their
fault. If you are skiing down the mountain and you slam into a giant
signpost or anything else that shouldnt have been in the way, it is
their fault. Seek out a good doctor, and an even better lawyer.
See all of that information on the back of your lift ticket? Those
are all of the disclaimers clearing them from liability, technically.
If you get a decent lawyer, however, their bullshit liability waiver
wont hold up in court. I have yet to go to a ski resort that insists
you read the safety information on the back of the ticket, and
until I do so, Im pretty sure the judge will tell them to fuck off.
Furthermore, juries side emotionally an overwhelming percentage
of the time, meaning if you are hurt and do decide to sue, youre
very likely to get a settlement.
I sat down to have lunch with Malcolm one afternoon and he
filled me in on a story just like this. For some reason a ski resort
up state let a lift just run without an operator up top or at the bot-
tom. Sure enough, the customers began to run amuck. They started
to bring up Ski Patrol toboggans, sleds, anything they saw laying
around. It was a party night, and things were getting out of control.
One of the liftees had been drinking in the parking lot and decided
to ride up and down the lift. As boys do, he saw a few girls that he
was trying to show off in front of and decided to jump out of the
chair on the way down and monkey climb on the rope. The rope
quickly got to the next tower. In a panic he wrapped his arm around
the rope gate, but was quickly consumed by the machine.
His arm was gashed up, but the ensuing screams and dangling
legs got the lift manager to shut down the lift. Ski Patrol got to him,
bandaged his wrist and he was sent away in an ambulance. Fired?
Yeah, but when all was said and done, he walked away with a $950k
settlement check from the resort. Not bad, huh? Ski resorts are so
worried about this, in fact, that they will fire decent employees and
even great employees if there is even a remote threat of them suing
after being hurt at the resort. It happened at my personal resort; a
fellow coworker physically assaulted a young man that taught in ski
school. In fear of him suing, they fired him for some bullshit rea-
sonthen hired him back when the statute of limitations expired
on his lawsuit.
Behind The Scenes
But what does Ski Patrol do when they arent standing by waiting
to clip passes? Well, they arguably have the best job at the resort. So
sweet that the majority of them are volunteers. But here are some
fun facts about Ski Patrol: Ski Patrol can go to any other resort in
the country to work; they are a national non-profit organization set
up to become the preeminent authority on the mountain.
If a Ski Patrolman falls, he is fined 1.00 USD. Yes, its true; its not
a myth. It sets a bad example, and they are forced to pay it, even if
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theyre volunteers. A Ski Patrolmans entire family (and friends in most
cases) get to ride or ski for free. Ski Patrol has assigned hours they must
work, but essentially their job is to carve around the mountain all day
hanging out. If they want, they can head to their assigned club house at
the mountain. There, they hang out, party, cook food, and get warm in
between carving sessions. Naturally, if youre looking for a winter job
to score some extra dough, this is the position for you. What do you
have to do in order to land a comfy Ski Patrol job? Its simple: you have
to be able to make it down your mountains hardest trail (typically a
black diamond) while towing a toboggan, their sled used to tow injured
parties to the bottom.
You can be a rider or skier, but you have to be able to make
it down towing their sled. If youre really interested in being the
Officer Dick of the mountain and shitting on little kids, you can get
more information on their website (www.nsp.org). Personally,
Ive never held Ski Patrol in that high of a regard. The one time I was
injured riding and needed help, the responding Ski Patrol should
have called an ambulance, but to avoid a lawsuit they sent me on my
way. Ive had shoulder problems ever since. I also recall, more than
once, Ski Patrol seeing a customer fall or have trouble getting on
the lift, only to respond by laughing. I fully understand that there is
always at least one or two bad apples in the bunch. So I say this with
the utmost care and concern: Yo, dipshit! Stop fucking laughing. Its
a customer, better yet, a fellow human being, struggling to learn or
get their bearings. Piece of shit.
Getting Clipped
When a person gets their pass clipped, that means that a corner
is cut off. If all four corners get cut, then you lose your pass. If
you spent six hundred bucks on a season pass and it gets revoked,
you are gonna be pretty grumpy. If you just have a day or weekend
pass, you will most likely just have it revoked outright. You can get
your pass clipped by doing a number of things: jumping off the lift
before you reach the unload station up top, riding through closed-
off trails or parks, throwing snow, etc. More often than not you get
a talking to, but troublemakers have their pass clipped regularly.
Liftees typically resent Ski Patrol, but they will on occasion work
together when there is a complete hoodlum wreaking havoc on the
mountain.
A lot of kids will bicker and start fights, and when it gets
out of hand, liftees and Ski Patrol will work to weed them out.
Customers also love to report one another and tattletale. Liftees
will then be more than happy to make a point. I remember a young
man named Tyler kept picking on another kid who was clearly gay.
After a few reports, we got fed up and waited for him at the lift.
As soon as he was on the lift and up in the air, we stopped it,
walked over to him in front of a full loading bay and gave him a
five-minute lecture.
Customer Service
Sir?! Sir? I was trying to get the attention of an older gentleman
who was hiking up the ski school line with four small children.
Are you ski school?
Yeah, dont worry about it, kiddo, Im all good, he replied.
He was wearing a red jacket and had visible his season pass. Two
other adults accompanied him. A short, portly woman who looked
like she hadnt been stuffed in quite awhileyou know that little
tuck of fat they get that makes it look as if youve wrapped a belt
around a pillow?and a doofy-looking lummox who I can only
imagine was named Bill or Bob. Either way I was confident his wife
spent a good amount of time scrubbing shit stains out of his tighty-
whities with a Tide quick-erase pen.
Im sorry, that didnt answer my question, are you ski school?
Dingleberry.
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Yeah, thats what I just said, guy, relax, Im ski school.
Whatever, he replied,
You are aware that no parents are allowed on the hill without
the proper equipment and a pass, correct? I asked,
Yeah, dont worry about it, guy, Im allowing it today, he said.
I smiled at him reassuringly and helped his students get up the
mountain. As the flock of ski schoolers made their way behind him
I questioned each one about his identity and they all drew blanks.
More than anything I hated old people, but even more than old peo-
ple I hated douche-bags that didnt respect my self-inflated sense of
self-worth.
Bunny Hill to Ski Patrol, I buzzed loudly over the radio.
Ski Patrol. Come in, the radio crackled back.
The portly red-faced woman was apparently standing nearby,
but Billy-Bob the shit-stain wizard was hiking confidently alongside
the faux ski instructor like Boo-Boo to Yogi bear. I need you to
come out here and start clearing parents off the hill for me.
Copy that, over in a bit, they replied.
I started loading for the next few minutes and cooled down
substantially. The thrill of the hunt had left me. Coincidentally, that
was becoming a problem in my personal life as well. I had a yuppie
bent over and ready to take it, when my little solider folded and
wasnt able to march. I think it was the drugs.
Leon hiked up the hill, helmet and all. He was the head of ski
school but cross-trained as Ski Patrol and as a liftee. Shit, I know he
was pretty good at adjusting gear, too, he probably was and could
have been rentals as well. Leon was like the super employee of my
mountain. Yo Leon! I yelled,
He lazily walked over to me, through the snowy crowd of bar-
neys. Sup, dude?
Yo, man, we got this guy up there, he says hes ski school, but
hes sketchy, like really sketchy, I explained,
How so? he asked.
He isnt wearing a jacket, and he just has a seasons pass. I told
him no other parents on the hill and he told me not to worry about
it, I continued.
What the fuck? He looked angry. Alright, I got it.
And can you clear away some of these parents from the hill,
too? I asked.
Yup, Im gonna start clippin passes, he replied, strolling up
into the crowd, approaching one adult at a time.
I sighed in relief; the head of ski school would be able to sort
this guy. I didnt know who he was, but the last thing I wanted was
some sketchy creeper handling four tots with no experience and
no
Excuse me! Excuse me! yelled the portly red-faced woman
in my ear.
Yes? But she didnt even let me greet her, she was ready to
give me a piece of her mind.
I just want you to know that man was helping, and that my son
will now suffer and his lesson will be ruined because of you, thanks
a lot! she yelled.
Okay I shrugged my shoulders and shot her a blank stare.
Unbelievable, you are just unbelievable! she yelled as she
turned to walk away.
I was going to be the bigger person and not say anything, but I
couldnt help but be a smug little prick. This part is tricky and can
be a little confusing. Me not saying anything would have ended it
right there, just like it did with that pedophile photographer.
However, this time I was extremely bored, and extremely
hornyI was hoping, best-case scenario, to get this elevated to
Bella. I would love to be able to smell her again, to gawk at the
camel toe in between her legs and envision the salty, sour taste her
snatch excreted.
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You know, maam, I yelled back. She turned to look at me as
she was waddling her portly hips down the mountain.
You can always go to customer service, my name is Allan.
Oh I am! she yelled back. I am going to customer service.
Most of you reading, I hope, will get how that hurts her more than
it hurts me. But I assume there are those few out there, much like
the red-faced Jabba the Hutt, that cant connect the dots. Who did
she think made up the rules? Seriously? Who did she think I was?
Just some guy? The resort employs me; they are the ones telling me
to enforce the rules. I wasnt just some asshole that showed up and
started loading people on the rope tow. I thought it was a stupid
rule, too, to be honest. I just did it because it gave me some sense
of power and control in life. Otherwise Id have to get my kicks
sexually degrading women desperate for some kind of physical and
emotional connection
I calmly turned back and began to continue my job. I had been
there for a few hours anyway and was losing patience. I was sup-
posed to be rotated at least an hour and a half ago, but my anger
was suddenly lost in a sea of excitement. This was definitely gonna
be a juicy story to tell later on. I always got pissed off when I was
dumped at the bunny hill for more than an hour, but dramaor
even better, phone numbersmade up for it. Roughly ten minutes
passed before the Palin supporter waddled back up the hill.
Ok, you run the hill? Then you need to make sure my son is
okay at all times. So now hes your responsibility. So go up and help
him.
Im sorrywhat? I replied, starting to lose my patience.
Maam, my job is here at the lift, loading people. Your son is not
my responsibility.
He is now, she said with a snap and turned to walk back down
the hill. I glanced up to see a helpless boy trying to manage his skis.
The one person who really got screwed over through all of this was
that boy. I felt bad for him. Some douche-bag convinced his friends
to let them pay him to teach him to ski. He was clearly in over his
head and now I was the one getting the flack, because I was the only
one doing his job. Man, did it feel good. I was tickled inside at the
thought that I could get this woman so upset and make her feel so
powerless. When I was cumming inside ski instructor #2 that night,
I would be thinking about the small power play, which made my day
in my otherwise powerless life.
So what happened when she went into customer service? They
told her to fuck off. They did it in a polite and manner-filled way,
but nonetheless thats exactly what they did, as the office manager
later recounted the story. She was instructed that I was in charge of
the hill and she was at my mercy.
Why?
Its simple. Insurance.
You have to have the proper equipment on with an area pass.
This will cover you under the resorts insurance. The big question
is, what could go wrong? While its very unlikely you will just fall
and much more likely that resorts are just trying to nickel and dime
you, they do have cause for legitimate concern. If a small child races
recklessly out of control and hits you, you have grounds to sue.
Worse yet, what if a child hits you and is severely injured? These are
all possibilities (I assure you they are, I have seen some mother fuck-
ing shit in my day) that resorts are trying to avoid. When this freck-
led, red-faced, Dolores Umbridge wannabe got back to the bunny
hill, what was her reaction? Trying to put me out or make my life
more difficult. Too bad for her, in the real world crazy doesnt get
you very far unless youre Glenn Beck. She sat stewing at the bot-
tom of the hill as I contently loaded customers, smug smile and all.
Keep this lesson in mind, though: while customer service will
pretend to care about what you have to say, theyre really just yes-
sing you to death.
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The Summit
It was getting warmer on the mountaintop. The snow was
beginning to thaw, and the season was starting to come to an end.
I made a lot of friends but even more enemies. My body was con-
stantly exhausted, I could barely go on. All of us were worked to the
bone. I had nothing left in me to give, I was utterly defeated.
My typical schedule gave me two days off. Normally my off
days were bunched together, but on occasion they were sporadi-
cally set throughout the week. My dry mouth forced a NyQuil gel
capsule down my throat and I huffed as best as I could to the main
office. I asked to see Angela, the woman in charge of making the
schedule, but she wasnt there. Barely still able to stand, I grabbed a
pen and some paper and left a note for her that read:
Dear Angela,
Can you please schedule my days off tomorrow and the day
following so I can eat lots of yummy soup and watch lots of
Pokemon on TV? Im not feeling very well, and after pushing
myself through today I need to spend a few days in bed to bring
myself back to Mountain standards.
I stumbled out and headed back to station. I remember being so
sick and so tired that I nearly passed out on the lift. Even fellow liftees
who normally despised me, like the Weasel and the Midget, concurred
that I was too sick to be working. They took pity on me and rotated me
in and out of the bottom shack where I could sit in relative heat.
This is the main office, is Allan in there? crackled the radio.
I could hear them, but I didnt respond. I just stood up and
began walking over to the front office. I mustered up my strength,
my day was almost over, only another half an hour left. I pulled open
the office door and Bella came flying out with a smile on her face.
Doris, the ginger office worker, was looking equally as pleased.
What is Pokemon and yummy soup? asked Doris.
Im sick, I replied.
So you want to watch Pokemon and eat yummy soup, she said.
You think this is funny?
I could see at this point that Doris was trying her best to humili-
ate me. Unlike her, though, I am extremely comfortable in my own
skin, and the smiling office workers behind her, who later told me
they fully appreciated the joke, made me feel better.
Yes, I said shortly. There a problem with what I do when Im
sick?
No, no, replied Doris. You just might want to be a little more
professional next time. Because this isnt funny.
As Doris spoke, Angela stood behind her out of view, mouthing
I thought it was hilarious!
Here are your hours, said Doris as she slammed down the
schedule in front of me. Next time be more professional.
Bella waited for me to scan my schedule. They gave me one day
off four days from now. I looked up at her, she was beaming.
Sorry, all days off require two weeks notice before they are
even considered! She laughed and strolled out of the main office.
Right, bitch, because that is professional. Regardless though, it
didnt matter.
This was it, I was defeated. There was no way I could possibly
continue on. I barely had enough strength to make it home that
night. Bella had no compassion, probably because she was given
everything, and now I was paying the price. I walked over to my
friends on the lifts and said my goodbye for the day. They all smiled
casually and waved me off, expecting to see my ugly mug on the
mountain the next day. But thats not how this story ends; Id had
134
enough. I was going to quit, and I knew exactly how I was gonna
do it.
I was going out, and that was fine, but I wasnt going out with-
out a bang. I summoned up what courage, strength, and ego I had
left in me, and stumbled over to the mens bathroom. It was warm,
and the door was cocked open. I could hang out in the urinals and
see into the private building. It was the one place no employee
could enter. It was the place that Bella and Malcolm brought me
so they could yell at me in private. When I was inside I had enough
time to get the layout and now was my time to act. I waited for ten
minutes just watching. I was going to barge in confessing my love
for Bella, and when all else failed I would catch her unexpectedly
and lay a deep passionate kiss on her. At worst, I misread the signals
and she could throw me out, but I was done anyway, so what did I
care about being fired?
I was about to make my move to enter, convinced that Bella
was inside, when I saw her appear out of nowhere. She was storm-
ing into the private building, radio in hand. She ducked beneath the
red rope that sanctioned it off from clueless customers and nosy
liftees, unlocked the door and walked inside. This was it, this was
my chance. I took a deep breath, and with everything in me, went
for it. I took off my liftee jacket so she could get a better feel for my
broad shoulders, then entered the cabin.
Chapter 8
The Money Shot
It was quiet in here, calm. There wasnt any of the chaos of the
mountain, it was just a carpeted office building that was shock-
ingly un-mountain-like. I could see a huge TV and sofa in the corner
room; a front desk, as if this place was once used to greet custom-
ers; two closed doors; and an office.
Bella had to be in the office, but I couldnt hear anything. I
walked slowly over and knocked on the open door, expecting to
see her snarling face. Nothing. I turned around and knocked on the
closed door expecting to hear a nasty, P|o?! from inside. Nothing.
Then finally I knocked on the last door. Nothing.
I walked into the corner room to investigate. I saw another
door leading out the back way. She must have stormed inside, then
stormed right back out. Damn, I missed her! A flood of panic rushed
over me, and I abruptly realized that technically I was trespassing. I
would be fired, and they could and most likely would press charges
against me. I started for the door with the most innocent expression
I could fake on my face. But just before I left, a picture on the desk
caught my eye.
It was Bella, Doris, and Doriss daughter that I did ass-to-mouth
with only a few weeks prior. I guess they were good friends. My
cock got slightly erect while thinking about smearing my dirty cock
all over Doris daughters face. She was such a needy whore.
I lifted the frame. They cant press charges, Im a fucking
employee. I took a moment to calm my nerves and began to wander
around the area I wasnt supposed to be in. Fuck it. Ill stand before
a judge and explain I didnt know I wasnt supposed to be in there.
136
The Money Shot
137
It wasnt like I would have to stand before a judge and explain why
I got a fifteen-year-old high then ass-fucked her. This was just a case
of an incompetent employee.
I started going through each room, each desk, each drawer,
trying to find anything of Bellas that I could steal. I finally found
Bellas office and managed to ruffle through her desk. There were
personal lady items throughout. I grabbed one particularly intimate
piece that I wont mention in fear of her reading this and pressing
charges. I instantly got hard. I took a moment to examine the foot
traffic outside of the windows. There were blinds covering all of the
windows. Bella had done a pretty good job of wrapping the place
up, making sure she had enough privacy. Perfect.
I pulled down all three layers of pants and my underwear. My
bare ass sat on her comfy desk chair and I started furiously jerking
off. With the smell of her tit sweat, and the fantasy of her catching
me only to help me finish, I popped all over her computer desk and
my hands. It was one of my fastest jerks ever. I had just pulled off the
unthinkable and now all I had to do was make a quick exit.
I smeared what was left on my hands gently on each keyboard
in the entire building (there were approximately three). Then I took
the load that was on her desk and started to carefully spread it on
everything I could think to, on each doorknob, on each handle, on
everything that people would touch. But I was careful to be extra
generous with her seat and personal belongings. Within a matter
of minutes I had spread more seed than a farmer and was looking
around for things I could loot. I stole an intimate of Bellas then
raided all drawers for valuables.
With body beaten, pockets full, and cock empty, it was time
for me to make my daring escape. I pulled back the curtains behind
the window and glanced out at the foot traffic. I didnt want to
risk going out the back door, I didnt know what was out there. I
also knew that every moment I stayed here examining foot traffic
raised my chances that someone would catch me. It was either now
or never. I took a deep breath and made a confident and swift exit
from the private building. I walked with confidence straight to my
car. My shift wasnt over for another two hours, but I couldnt care
less, I wouldnt be returning.
As I stormed out, I gawked at a little girl and her mother who
were both dressed inappropriately.
Wow, your daughter is hot, I would love to fuck her! I shouted.
The woman looked horrified and quickly grabbed her child
and started shuffling off towards the lift. Maybe now she will think
twice about dressing her daughter like a whore.
Yo, bitch! I shouted, I work here! Welcome to the mountain,
you fucking slut!
I looked around for any snowboard or ski equipment I could
steal, but I couldnt see anything within arms reach. I would have
gone back and sought some out, but after that comment, I was
pretty sure that woman was calling the police.
I scrambled with the eight thousand fucking zippers on my offi-
cial work jacket to get my car keys out, and when I finally did I keyed
an eighty-grand Audi parked next to my Subaru. It had a bumper
sticker on it that read 17MPG, and also one of those obnoxious
family stick figure decals on the back.
I started my car, and, despite my normal disciplined warm-up
time of five to ten minutes, I hauled ass out, cranking the heat. I
could feel my Subarus all-wheel drive frantically scurrying over the
ice and snow as I sped out of the parking lot.
I lurched out of the long entrance and sped away. I took off my
jacket in the car while I was still driving, and a feeling of excite-
ment and relief swept over me. That was it, that was fucking it. I was
done, I was finally done!
I would never have to return, no more hour-long commutes
for me, no more standing in the freezing cold for hours on end.
138
The Money Shot
139
I was finished. I started to cry with joy as I hit the back roads of
Monroe, New York. I was in just a T-shirt now, with all of the stolen
goods tossed carelessly in the back. I pulled into the gas station
that I stopped at every morning to get myself situated. I started to
unlace the ski boots that belonged to the mountain, and ripped off
two of the three layers I was wearing. I put on my street clothes
and cleaned myself up as best as I could. I got gas and organized
everything in the back of my car. I put the stolen loot into a bag,
my old winter gear into a box, and my wallet and phone on my
front seat.
I walked into the gas station and locked eyes with the cute girl
behind the counter.
A few minutes later I walked out while stuffing the receipt into
my pocket, that cute girls phone number scrawled hastily on the
back. She was just my type, tootrashy, dumb, and thin. An hour
later I arrived home and typed up my letter of resignation. After
which I rolled a fat joint and turned on Pokemon.
To Whom It May Concern,
I, Allan Saro, will no longer be able to continue my employ-
ment at The MoUnTain. There are far too many episodes
of Pokemon playing on TV and far too much yummy soup in
my pantry. I got home late last night to discover that I had pur-
chased the extra-chunky Campbells soup from the grocery
store like I thought. Unfortunately, there is not a microwave at
The MoUnTain for me to warm up my soup, nor is there a
TV for me to watch Pokemon on.
This puts me in the middle of a grave dilemma. I am being
forced to choose between one of the greatest creations ever
known to man (Pokemon) and one of the greatest jobs Ive
ever had in my life (The MoUnTain). I am sorry, but the
colorfully animated characters that accompany Ash Catchem
(thats his real name, like legit) are far too alluring.
I sincerely hope this does not come as an inconvenience to you
in any way. As I have enjoyed working at The MoUnTain
and look forward to resuming my employment next season. I
would like to take this opportunity to thank not only bella,
doris, and Malcolm for giving me such a wonderful home
through the winter, but the rest of the staff there as well. To
the cafe, rentals, ski school, Ski Patrol, and of course my fellow
liftees, thank you all.
I cannot express enough my gratitude for the chances given
to me, and for bellas astute management style. I would also
like to thank doris for being so courteous, understanding, and
oftentimes patient with my requests.
I will miss the mountain and everyone there more than you
could possibly know. But most of all I will miss the amazing
pretzels. Sometimes stale, but oftentimes warm and fresh,
sprinkled with the perfect amount of salt and served up by the
wonderful girls (and guys) in the cafe. I feel a very serious argu-
ment could be made for the cafe pretzels being the heart of
The MoUnTain.
Once again thank you. I will be bringing in my work jacket at
the end of the week to collect my final paycheck.
I will miss you all, and Im sure I will be missed as well.
-Allan Saro
140
The Money Shot
141
After a quick trip to my sleepy towns library, the letter was
faxed and I was done. The only time I went back was to return
my jacket and collect my final paychecksorry to say they were
overtly friendly. I heard stories about the office workers reactions
when they saw my resignation letter; I had really gotten under
Bellas skin. Unfortunately, it wasnt how I had dreamed about get-
ting under her skin, but I got under there nonetheless. The text
messages from my phone trickled off, down to none. My incredible
life at the mountain had come to an end.
The ice and slush melted away, and muddy lawns soon turned
into blistering hot fields of grass. Since the mountain was over an
hour away, there was no chance of me ever seeing anyone from
there again. It was all a dream, and that dream was finally over. I had
finally learned to conquer the Mountain.
Leah put in her two week notice shortly after I did and joined the
Air Force. Her father is very proud.
Dum-Dum died shortly after, due to a freak medical condition. Just
one of those things.
Kevin still works at the ski resort part-time. He also works at a local
grocery store.
The ski season has been tremendously rough due to global warm-
ing, but the Mountain in question has still been profitable.
The Midget still lives with Mommy and Daddy (and is still over
thirty years old).
Frank left for Tahoe a few weeks before the end of the East Coast
season. He continues to tip chairs there, gamble, and seduce older
widows with lots of money.
I eloped in downtown Hilo, Hawaii. To my beautiful wife HDR,
without whom I would be lost. I currently reside in a quiet com-
munity in Pennsylvania, where I continue to write.
Together, we are all still lost.
For bonus content please visit http://allansaro.com/rants-
bonus/

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