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The First Time
For the last twenty-five years I’ve been swimming or possibly floating in a huge sea of awesome. For the record I do have a pair of orange water wings when I’m sailing the ship to black out island. “Are the waters rough?” Typically… yes. After a discussion last night with a friend, it’s been determined that it’s really only alcoholism or at least called that, if the drinking is negatively affecting other areas of one’s life. However, alcohol is a hub and my life seemingly orbits around it. Booze is positively involved in my life on every level, therefore there is no disease. Not even by genetics; and I’ve been described as genetically perfect and I drink a lot, hence my new position as the head of the Yo Beat Awesome Department at its new corporate office in the Northeast. And yes, I had to move for this new and important role at the magazine. So we’ll start at the beginning, which is an amazing place to start, in the earliest of days of drunk. Leslie Glenn is an old friend of mine and her birthday falls in February as do a lot of snowboard contests. She was turning 18 which is fairly liberating, after all the tobacco and pornography industries are alive and well for a reason. We, collectively all snowboarders from Ohio, were staying at a condo at a small resort called Seven Springs. A neighboring resort had two days of snowboard contests sponsored entirely by a Volkswagen dealership. Now I’m going to drift here. Companies like to target typically young, hip, affluent demographics like snowboarders with trendy and expensive products. Phillips Electronics does this, as does Paul Mitchell, Chevrolet, Ford, several department stores, beverage companies, and without being too finger pointy, action sports companies and retailers… all of them for that fact. You are the consumer. Which raises a good point? Snowboarders drink as much as frat guys, or at least the ones I’ve met. Why don’t beer companies target snowboarders more? Why does Target sponsor a snowboarder and PBR doesn’t. Truth be told, I have a clock but I need a beer. None the less, the marketing works, even for Volkswagen. Case in point is upper middle class girls between the ages of 17 and 25 in Southern California. Ima Robot didn’t write a song about black Jettas because the marketing isn’t working. But I’m done with that rant and back to snowboarding in Southwestern Pennsylvania.
We went this contest as aliens. Ohio snowboarders are, for the most part, not taken too seriously outside of Ohio and maybe Michigan as of recently. None the less, I think someone from Ohio won every contest they had except for big air. Somehow a PA hardbooter won with a one-footed method over Mark Radafeld's switch backside stalefish 720 with the cleanest landing I’ve ever seen…ever. In celebration of Leslie’s birthday and a near clean sweep of the contests, there was much adult beveraging. Now in Pennsylvania, for some reason they really only sell beer and similar products by the case at state regulated distribution centers. It’s hard to buy a six pack of your favorite brew at a convenient store. You have to drive way further and way more.
Most everyone had a few drinks after riding and then went to dinner and then to a hot tub to relax. All the while I was back at the condo alone doing my chemistry homework for my senior year of high school and eating cold, leftover pizza. Despite all the controversy, dry, cold, leftover pizza makes me thirsty. Tap water is rarely an option for drinking and there was no soda for miles. However there was a half of a case of berry flavored wine coolers in the fridge, and everyone was absent from the condo. I managed to drink all twelve of those candy flavored treats. After I finished the last wine cooler and the only chemistry homework I ever got an A on, I decided to take a shower. The shower went as usual, except I felt like I had a symptom I now call “swimmy head.” As I got out of the shower I realized I had x-ray vision, as I always do when I drink extensively, which is now everyday. I saw my bath towel and my hanging leather belt as a Native American loin cloth. And so it was. I centered the towel at my crotch and pulled up both ends of the khaki bath towel towards my chest and upper back respectively. Then I put the belt around my waist and tightened it, and then I let both ends of the towel drape between my skinny legs. I looked radiant as usual. I walked out of the bathroom seconds before some odd twenty or more friends entered the front door of the condo and all realized very quickly for the first time that I was drunk for the first time. After their reaction the evening got really foggy for me and I’ve only seen the photos once. Those pictures were probably locked in a safety deposit box or burned so not to ruin anyone’s chance of running for political office. I know there was a pink animal balloon in the shape of male genitals poking through the fly of my navy snowboard pants. The genital balloon was being fondled orally by my friend Dan. Subsequently, I can’t say that I’ve seen him since. Now I know this story doesn’t make me sound tough. And I’m not, nor ever claimed to be. I’m awesome, and so is getting drunk on wine coolers and wearing loin cloths. Especially if they are relevant to snowboarding in any way. Thanks everyone for breaking me in, taking photos of weird balloon man love and making me look like a huge pussy. I miss you. -Chaz McAwesomeson
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