Lining up at the Canyons Ski Resort (mind the gap)
I lived in Germany for a couple years in the ’80s, and when I was ten, the folks took me on a ski trip to Austria. While I basically love everything about Austria—the smaller, more sophisticated and less pretentious version of its northern neighbor—I was amused and disturbed by the behavior of some of the locals in the lift line. It’s possible that I’m so sensitive to lift-line etiquette now because of the pole-whacking, one-piece-pulling, general anarchy that I experienced my first time at Stubaital. Don’t get me wrong—I enjoyed mulling about the lifts in Gulmarg, India (when they worked) and Zakopane, Poland (Perogis aplenty), and I’m fine with being herded into the tram at Snowbird, UT, but I will never forget the unruly Austrians hitting each other’s poles and sneakily unclipping bindings to cut ahead in line. With that in mind, here are six guidelines to remember when you are sharing the lift line with fellow winter-sports-inclined hominids.
Death Breath
If you’re in a tram or gondola (the key here is the confined space) and know that you have a propensity for bad breath, or think that halitosis is a rare type of underwater algae, pop a chicklet in the old gullet and kill the death breath. Asking for gum or mints is a classic icebreaker.
Proof(ing) Your Worth
While I’ve gone back and forth about how i feel about drinking at the resort (my personal pref is not to crack a brew until the afternoon), I’ve come to the conclusion that trying to suggest everyone do the same would just stoke the ire of those lushes out there who feel like a day off to ski means beer or schnapps for breakfast (you know who you are). Since that is the case, why not just be obvious about it and let the rest of us know who to look out for on the hill? So, morning nipping should be done in the lift line in plain sight of everyone and their children (‘You see that son? That there’s a dirtbag skier. You can be one for a couple years in your twenties, or while between jobs in your thirties, but not forever. OK?’)
Furzen
While fart jokes are popular around the world, a rude toot could literally ruin a gondola ride. If you indulged in a pre-ski breakfast burrito, please consider those around you and wear a one-piece. With the benefit of full containment, previously sulfurous storm clouds remain trapped as Dutch-Oven fetors, thereby maintaining the alpine harmony of a day at the resort.
Whack-a-Pole
Whack-a-Pole, the age-old Austro-German battle of the inches. The rules are simple. If another skier has cut the line, stepped on your skis, or even looked at you the wrong way, you are allowed to retaliate by using your ski pole to:
a) whack their ski pole as a way of communicating your irritation,
b) use the business end of your ski pole to scratch the topsheet of the offender’s ski (shameful).
Less significant events than this have started wars in Europe. Let’s hope Whack-a-Pole doesn’t migrate. The ironic thumb’s up works just as well and carries less risk.
Miscarriages
Some people don’t know how to carry skis, period. We all know this and have all witnessed it, and were probably stricken with such clumsiness ourselves at some point. Here’s an extremely serious I found on Youtube that might help some folks out.
I prefer to carry my skis a bit more vertically so I don’t break any noses.
Loudspeak
You might be the most radical skier on the mountain, but there’s no need to tell everyone else within earshot about how you just sent it off the gnarliest rock on the mountain and then used your iPhone to buy Apple stock while cruising a groomer. Get photo or video evidence of your skills and leave business back at the office. In addition, speak softly, carry two big sticks, and save the hyperbolic braggadocio for your rap album.
I despise these people who ask with phony-innocence “are you guys just 2?,” jump in at the middle of the line and then proceed to snake their way to the front, advancing through successive groups of unsuspecting riders. That’s what the singles line is for jackass.
Also people who stand behind me in line and kick the tails of my skis repeatedly make my blood boil. It’s like an obnoxious baby sitting behind you on the plane.
“This isn’t ‘Nam, Dude. There are rules.”
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First off I’d like to say that, being almost 40, I am one of those few knuckledragging snowboarders on the mountain with manners and a sense of consideration for others. This morning I had a new line experience and was hoping you could shed light on the appropriate etiquette for the situation. Basically some fat tub of crap (on a board, not that it’s relevant) jumped the line straight ahead of me. When I said “excuse me” in a really rude tone he pulled the “I’m with these other 3 people, that’s how it works.” ‘tude. Now please correct me if I’m wrong here, but where I’m from if that’s the case shouldn’t you just say “excuse me- I’m with those people, can I get by?” to which I would most likely reply “sure, no problem”. Instead I have to resist the urge to commit a felony in the lift line in front of dozens of witnesses, which is not good for my blood pressure. The wittiest thing I could think to say was something like “I guess I’ll need to read up on my line-jumping etiquette when I get home”. And here we are. (And I’m not even surprised to find such a sight.)
I later thought if you are in a group and your whole group hasn’t reached the bottom yet, wait outside of the line for everyone in your group to assemble, then get in line. It was an epic day at Snowbird in May so there weren’t many lifts open to disperse the crowd quickly, this was outside of the rope line guide things on the Peruvian chair. Is there maybe a different etiquette for once you reach the ropes vs. when the crowd is beyond the end of the ropes? Line snakes are self-centered jackasses, even if you can’t beat them sensless you might be able to make the rest of the crowd aware of their jackassery and get a little public humiliation satisfaction in the process.
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