A New Year’s to Remember
It was 2002, and I was going to go on my first snow skiing trip to ring in the New Year of 2003 with my college boyfriend and friends. We were headed to Aspen, Colorado, for a weeklong stay with a local someone knew, and we were thrilled. However, I was going with avid skiers, and it being my first time, I would spend the first few days in ski school by myself. I didn’t mind and was simply excited to try something I had wanted to do my entire life.
We decided to drive from Mississippi to Colorado (I’m still not sure why) and set off on the twenty hour drive west soon after Christmas. The adventure was on. I’ll never forget my first glimpse of the Rocky Mountains. They were a glorious site, and I finally understood what the fuss was all about. Growing up, my family usually vacationed in warmer places. Snow skiing was not on the top of the list, and beaches seemed to always take precedent. Later, I would find out that my very athletic brother is like an ostrich on skis therefore the beach decision was probably for the best.
My first day of ski school had commenced. I waved goodbye to my group as they jumped on the lift to the double black diamond trails and joined the others in my beginner’s class. Most were children, but I was fine with it. At least I looked the part. My matching jacket and pants paired with long blonde pig- tails peeking out from under my hat made me look like the perfect snow bunny on the bunny slope. After hours of learning the downhill pizza wedge, I met my friends for an Après-ski drink. Now, I was a pro at that part of the trip and did not need any lessons there.
Over the next few days, my skills continued to build enough to where I was skiing blue runs. My boyfriend at the time, who loved the crazy helicopter skiing and quadruple black diamond whatevers, decided to snowboard for a day so that we could ski together. I was thrilled! I would finally have someone to ski with above the age of twelve.
As we went down our first blue together, my very experienced skier boyfriend decided I was going way to slow for his liking and that he would meet me at the bottom of the mountain. Off he went in typical fashion, and I was left alone yet again. I was obviously mad but decided to make the best of it and cruise down the mountain at my pace, enjoying my beautiful surroundings. At some point, I must have veered off course, because before I knew it, I found myself tumbling down a black run with speedy skiers zooming past me, unconcerned that I had landed face up, skis pointing in the air, stuck in the snow, at the edge of a random parking lot on the side of a very far away mountain. Through the snow, I could even hear a child say, “Mommy, what’s wrong with that lady?”
“A lot, child,” I thought to myself.
At some point, I pulled myself together, got myself unstuck from the snow, and realized I had no idea where I was. There were no buildings, no people, no après ski drinks, no cars around me (except random ones in the parking lot). I also realized I had no phone on me and had to get creative. As tears of frustration welled up in my eyes, I walked to the edge of a parking lot where a road was and stuck out my thumb like any seasoned hitch hiker would. There I was, alone, blonde pigtails sticking out from my ski cap with one arm around my skis and another outstretched with a hitch hikers thumb ready to test my fate.
Ten minutes passed and I finally saw a small truck coming around the corner. A man pulled up slowly and rolled down the window.
“You need a ride?”
“Well, yes, but are you going to kill me?”
“I’m not going to kill you.”
“How do I know that?”
“Well, you’re a few miles from the village so you’ll need a ride. I’m the pest control man, and I have daughters your age. I won’t kill you.”
I looked around, still not seeing anyone else or anything in my site. I had to trust the stranger and take him at his word. I could hear my parent’s voice in my head saying “do not ever get in the car with a stranger.”
“Okay. Please don’t kill me. I just need to get back to the village and my friends.”
I hopped into the small truck, said a quick prayer to myself, and away we went. I grilled him about his daughters to make sure he was telling the truth. I’m not really sure what I would have done if he had lied, but nonetheless we continued on. I sure am glad he actually was the pest control man and did in fact have daughters around my age- three to be exact. He was very kind as he told me all about his family, then finally dropped me off at the village at the base of the mountain. I had no idea how I had gotten so off course.
I walked to the bar where I was to meet my boyfriend and friends. They were all outside cheersing their drinks and laughing, unconcerned that I had just hitch hiked my way back to them. My boyfriend eventually noticed I had arrived and said, “Where the hell have you been? I have been waiting on you forever!”
I immediately burst into tears, told them about my traumatic experience, and asked for a mimosa. They all thought the story was hilarious. I was still trying to get over it and sipped my drink, stewing over the predicament I had found myself in. Actually, I chugged my drink.
That night was New Year’s Eve, and we had bought tickets to a local party at an upscale restaurant/ bar in Aspen. After I recovered from my black course tumbling hitch hiker moment, I got myself together and put on the special outfit I had picked for the party. It was a pair of winter white pants, camel colored heels, and a winter white top with long sheer sleeves and intricate gold details throughout the bodice. I was ready! As we entered the main party room, I noticed a couch on the side of the room, flanked by a few tables. My legs were exhausted from my day of solo skiing and hitch hiking, so I headed toward the sitting area and sat in one of the empty seats. My friends didn’t realize I left, but eventually walked my way. About the same time they arrived to the area, a security guard made a beeline to me.
“Ma’am, these seats are reserved.”
“Oh, I am so sorry. No wonder they were empty! I can move,” I naively said in my thick Mississippi accent.
“Um yes, our guests are here, and they would like to sit.”
“Of course!” I gathered my purse, then turned around to see the guests he was speaking of. Right in front of me was none other than Vin Diesel of the Fast and Furious franchise (it was either really him or his body double) who was flanked by a gaggle of girls. Somehow these girls seemed to have forgotten we were in Colorado and that it was winter. Vin, with his aviator sunglasses on, walked right by me and went to the couch. I wondered if I had too many clothes on for him to notice I was standing right there. Besides, most of his group had tiny tennis skirts and bikini tops.
I scurried out of the VIP area and gathered back near the bar with my friends. “Where do you think their jackets are? It’s snowing outside!” My mind was blown about the amount of clothes these women were not wearing, but I eventually got over it and rang in the New Year in my long pants and long sleeves.
We left the next day as we began our new year of 2003 and drove the twenty hour trek back to Mississippi. Even though it was many years ago, I think about that trip from time to time. I am still grateful the man who picked me up while hitch hiking was not a serial killer. I also take a sip during the game “Never have I ever” if someone says “Never have I ever hitch hiked”. I wonder if Vin has started hanging out with women who wear more clothes. And I wonder if he still wears sunglasses inside at night.
Regardless of what you do to celebrate the New Year, I hope 2022 brings you peace, happiness, and most of all health. Happy Happy New Year from my house to yours!
For my favorite New Year’s Collard Green recipe, I turn to Martha Hall Foose’s “Screen Doors and Sweet Tea”. It is one the best cookbooks for true southern food. Just a tip- I like to add a touch of rice vinegar and spicy mustard into the greens as they cook.
Have a ski trip planned this winter? You can find some of the best outfits and accessories for the whole family at Tipsy Elves.
Need an affordable pair of aviators like Vin Diesel wears? I love the Maverick option because they are polarized as well.
Finally, learn about the interesting rise and fall of hitch hiking in America through Jack Reid’s “Roadside Americans”. It is clearly a practice that stopped way before I began mine.