Not That Active.

Last weekend I took a short trip to Northern Arizona, arriving late at night Friday so that I could wake up, bright eyed and bushy tailed, for a one day ski excursion Saturday. I was in the lift line with my 15 year old son when I overheard a conversation between some twenty-something snowboarders in the line next to ours. They were affable, these snowboarders, as snowboarders invariably are, friendly and easy with a smile, so that it’s hard to hold onto your grudges against them. These grudges are born out of their tendency to vape on the slopes, or inadvertently entangle themselves with you as you all try to exit the lift, occasionally taking you down, but on the ride up you forgive them again, forgetting these infractions during their genial, informed conversations about the mountain, where else they’ve visited this winter, and the conditions there. They’ll encourage your teenager in his winter sports goals, and almost always leave you with a “have a good run, bro.” They’re good-natured, by and large, and it’s hard to dislike a snowboarder, though I try, as to the ones who ride the lift drinking a beer.

The conversation in question took place between three snowboarders in various stages of winter dress. One was wearing jeans and a ski jacket, another sported ski pants and a hoodie with a down vest over it, and the third was dressed mostly conventionally, with an entirely waterproof outer layer, but no gloves…