My Dad lives in Houston. If you can ski as well as he does at 62 you'll have room to talk.
Not a quote, but today on the tram, euro-douchebag has been behind me the whole time, I'm the first at the gate to get on, skiing with my Dad since he's visiting. He wants to go up Baldy, but has never been, wants me to describe the terrain and point out landmarks so he doesn't end up in Amphitheatre, or above a bunch of cliffs. Euro-douchebag shoves me out of the way the second we get on, and makes a bee-line for the window. My dad managed to make it to one, and I did too, but with euro-douchebag and his euro-bitch next to him. I turn and ask, "I'm with my dad, he's next to you, can we trade places?" Euro-douchebag says, "Americans are so rude, why don't you go fuck yourself?" I proceed to knock his ass down getting off at the top.
This was at 3pm, or maybe I could've understood.
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