Nine short years ago I purchased a pair of Bonfire snowboarding pants on clearance in a Grand Junction store during the annual family spring break exodus to Powderhorn. More accurately, my parents bought me the pants, my 14 year-old checkbook not being flush with cash. Since that day, those trusty pants have since seen me through nearly a decade of many (mis)adventures. First, they watched over my sorry wet tuckus during a 6 year stint of snowboarding. That era over, the seat of the old pants already worn from years of the snowboard butt-check, I switched back to skiing and began to trash the cuffs with my razor sharp ski edges. The gashes from the skis cut through the stitching of the lower leg, and the pants developed a habit of gathering snow between the layers of fabric, so that when I walked into the lodge I could make about 4 snowballs from the snow encased inside my pants. And, as I sat eating my lunch, the snow would melt, soaking my socks and boots and allowing them to freeze into solid blocks of ice by the end of the day. Thanks to my wonderful aunt Denise and her excellent skills as a seamstress, this problem was solved for several years. After the stitching failed (again) I resorted to duct-tape to see me thorough my junior and senior years of college. Finally, this season, I ironed on some cambrelle in place of the duct tape, which, remarkably, has held out thus far. But, all good things must come to an end.
Yesterday I went skiing with Manuel, Sievert and Domenic. We had a great day riding Blackcomb's secret tree stashes. Unfortunately, I got a little too cozy with one tree in particular. We found a sweet snow stash off of one run...tons of pillows and drops and we were the first people to ski it. The second time in, I came shooting in to the trees when some sadistic druid hit me in the left quad with a baseball bat. Or that's what it felt like. Domenic, Manuel and Sievert were just up ahead and kept asking why I was howling like a birthing hippopotamus. I groaned some profanities and hobbled over to their location, cursing the low-lying tree branch I hadn't seen. Looking down, I realized that the branch had torn and ruined my pants. I finished the day with the ripped pants, and repaired the damage with more duct tape to get me through the season. With any luck, I'll get a full decade out of the old tried-and-true pantalones.
Demolition of the pants.
This is a picture of the most incredible phone in the world. It was in the pocket that got demolished by the tree branch (which was the diameter of a baseball bat). When I pulled it out of my pocket, it was bent at a 30 degree angle. I was sure it was spent. After pulling out the battery, and bending it flat (with a disconcerting "crack"), it works as well as the day I bought it. Unbelievable.
Demolition of the leg, 30 hours post-impact. I can't imagine what this would look like if my phone hadn't been in my pocket to protect me.
Yesterday I went skiing with Manuel, Sievert and Domenic. We had a great day riding Blackcomb's secret tree stashes. Unfortunately, I got a little too cozy with one tree in particular. We found a sweet snow stash off of one run...tons of pillows and drops and we were the first people to ski it. The second time in, I came shooting in to the trees when some sadistic druid hit me in the left quad with a baseball bat. Or that's what it felt like. Domenic, Manuel and Sievert were just up ahead and kept asking why I was howling like a birthing hippopotamus. I groaned some profanities and hobbled over to their location, cursing the low-lying tree branch I hadn't seen. Looking down, I realized that the branch had torn and ruined my pants. I finished the day with the ripped pants, and repaired the damage with more duct tape to get me through the season. With any luck, I'll get a full decade out of the old tried-and-true pantalones.
Demolition of the pants.
This is a picture of the most incredible phone in the world. It was in the pocket that got demolished by the tree branch (which was the diameter of a baseball bat). When I pulled it out of my pocket, it was bent at a 30 degree angle. I was sure it was spent. After pulling out the battery, and bending it flat (with a disconcerting "crack"), it works as well as the day I bought it. Unbelievable.
Demolition of the leg, 30 hours post-impact. I can't imagine what this would look like if my phone hadn't been in my pocket to protect me.
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