Shit just got real. Tomorrow is the start of the ski season in my country, or at my local snowy mountains, or maybe someone just made that up. I dont know. I don't much care, because I don't do snow. Snow is super pretty, but it's also super cold, and that just doesn't work for me.
I was first introduced to snow as a highschooler, and my foremost memory is of us all getting caught in a howling blizzard (as opposed to the calm and serene type of blizzards you usually get) and of me falling into a snow ditch with one ski wrapped around my neck. That was some good times for sure. I'm usually more outdoorsy, but snow drives a massive ice-cold wedge between me and nature.
I'm thinking about driving down the alpine way this year and picketing the ski fields. Say no to snow, say no to snow! Snow has to go! Go home snow, go home snow! The summer, united, will never be defeated! Snow kills baby ducks! And stuff like that. No-one ever pickets summer, because everyone likes a bit of warm weather. Ask everyone.
Snowboarders, I like. I'm okay with snowboarders. And lots of skiers I have also found to be decent folk, despite their horribly soggy hobby and their endless conversation icebreakers (boom, boom) regarding powder runs and other tedious snow-type lingo.
But over the years I have learnt that the more some people bang on about how great snow is, the more likely they are merely rich, pretentious twats who ride up and down chair lifts by day and toast each other over Bordeaux in their chateau over an open fire by night with a skewer stuck firmly up their marshmellows.
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