The downhill trajectory of skiing in America

I love skiing. I don't love paying for skiing.

I haven't been up to the slopes in a long time. Nor have I taken my newer svelter, leaner, meaner body out to the slopes. It might surprise you, but even in my stockier, girthier days I knew my way around the Black Diamonds and the occasional Double Black Diamond. 

Though not without, "What the fuck was I thinking?"

Could be a bad case of AIS, Athlete Imposter Syndrome, but being funny (?) and being athletic always seemed to be mutually exclusive. Which explains my total admiration for Peyton Manning, whose initial appearance on Saturday Night Live still lingers in my head as simply jawdropping -- timing, balance, subtlety. I guess those are qualities that work in both arenas.

I seem to have drifted off course into the tree section. 

There was a time when we'd regularly head up to Mammoth Mountain while all the non-Jewish people were adorning pine trees in their living room with trinkets and ornaments, wearing goofy sweaters and celebrating Jesus' birthday. 

Did you know Jesus was a Capricorn?

Which infidel among us wouldn't want to go to a movie depicting Jesus slamming tequila, dancing on the table and staying out til the crack of dawn (which you know he could push back for a couple more hours of depravity with the breath of his nostril)? 

Possible Title: The Last Depravity of Christ.

I've drifted again.

We basically had the slopes to ourselves and other aficianados with Hebraic Seasonings. Then the crowds, perhaps fatigued from the October-January Christmas festivities, started coming up Route 395 -- only the most beautiful highway in America.

And with increased demand came increased prices.

Today if you wanted to do a little schussing you'd first have to do a little (a lot) of shelling out:

Adult Lift Ticket Day Pass at Mammoth -- $209.00

Equipment Rental -- $120.00

Lunch (soggy cheeseburger, soggier fries, bowl of fruit, Corona Light) -- $43.00

Apres Ski cocktail -- $17.00

Lodging -- Can't afford lodging, get in car and go home.

Total cost for one day of battling crowds thicker than New Year's Eve in Time Square, getting in 7-8 runs (combined ski time 26 minutes and 41 seconds), 11 hours of back and forth driving, plus miscellaneous extras = No Fucking Way.

BTW, the same classist genii who are pricing skiers off the slopes seem to be in charge at Dodger Stadium where you'd have to gotten in on the ground floor at NVIDIA to afford a seat in nosebleed section in the Upper Deck.

I have a dirty nursing home to stay out of, no thank you.