Hooky

Last season, I found myself waking early to check the snow reports. It was probably bordering on OCD, but it was all for a good cause. We had a killer season in Summit County and I enjoyed at least 35 days of it. I became the master of leaving the mountain in time to get back to town for my bar shift at the restaurant. Like superwoman, in my car, I would deftly manouver out of my gear into work clothes, take out my braids throw some lip gloss on and poof I was ready to sling drinks! This season has been a bit different, with having a more normal schedule (yes, I know that most people don’t think of 10-3 as normal, but I am blessed) getting up to the mountain hasn’t been as easy, nor has the snow been as good at the resorts. So last week when I heard reports that we were getting a March dump my heart started pounding. Would I be able to get in some yummy fresh powder runs that had eluded me thus far? I was skeptical. I did my thing and combed the internet for any sign that would justify a hooky day in the middle of a crazy work week. I found the nugget I was looking for! I coaxed James (really it didn’t take much, just a mere email) to head up to Copper. Total time between leaving Boulder and strapping in to the snowboards? 1 hour 25 minutes. On the chair ride up, we both looked below us and frowned, where was all the fresh stuff? Oh, well it didn’t matter, we were sitting on a chair lift and not a desk chair. What awaited us at the top was pure bliss. Fat flakes fell fast. In between the trees was heaven, I just wanted to stay them all day. Then we checked out the back bowls. Expecting ice sheets and rutted out terrain, imagine the giddiness that came over when it was the complete opposite. We asked a patroller if he had suggestions for us, and he pointed the way to the far bowl that promised no tracks or people. By the time we got there, the “closed” sign was up. We debated for two minutes, looked around and of course decided to hike the ridge for 20 minutes and drop in. It was this last run that made playing hooky worth it. I floated down the slope, getting face shots of powder with every turn. James had dropped in behind me so I felt like I was alone, I glided through the trees. If I closed my eyes the snow beneath my board could have been water. It was a dreamy experience and just what I needed. My mind was right there and no where else. Pure bliss. Soon, James caught up to me, and we both had grins from ear to ear all the way back to Boulder. I would argue that our day of hooky actually led to a more productive work week than if we hadn’t gone at all. Feel free to use this argument with your boss too, better yet ask your boss to go with you!