Grean terrain and snow
Terminally local hill. Flatlanders beware.
The mountain was everything I'd wanted to ski for 30 years.
I left my young son in the lodge and made a last run. As I got on the lift, the attendant, apparently drinking a Corona, got in my face and said, "You're not a child!" No, I'm 61. I didn't understand that but went on up the lift.
At the top as I skiied away from the chair, I heard numerous shouts of "Sir!" and turned to find three guys accosting me. One was in red, one in green, and one in mufti. "Sir, you're skiing with a child's lift ticket." Oh. I said "This is my son's ticket. They're not well marked, and I mixed them up. He's back in the lodge." This attracted a skeptical response, but after some discussion Robin Hood said, "Ah, this happens a lot" and skiied away.
Ever think of making them easier to distinguish like everybody else? Santa Claus skiied away. I tried to chat with the third guy but he was looking at me like an infidel. As I skiied back to the lodge I thought:
IN FORTY YEARS, I NEVER TREATED A CUSTOMER LIKE THIS.
Would I go back? Ask me again in 30 years.