Chapter 2
Aspen
My heart rate slows and the sweat covering my palms starts to dry. This meeting is about a promotion, not a termination like I had feared.
“You want me to be an instructor?” I ask, double-checking with Mr. Ramirez, the professional snowboarder and owner of Smoky Pine Mountain Resort. In other words, my boss, but he lets everyone call him Raul.
“That’s right,” he replies, “I think it’s time you switched positions here at the resort. You'd make a great instructor. You’re ready.”
For a second, I think I hear him wrong. An instructor?
I figured this was a few years out—maybe something for the next version of me.
Not now. Once, I thought about doing it to get more riding time, especially since I want to go pro, but I never thought it would be possible so soon.
I haven't even dared to acknowledge yet.
He's always preparing me for my future more than I am.
“But I never applied for the position,” I tell him wiping the sweat off my hands and sitting a little straighter in my chair, “I didn’t even mention wanting to be an instructor.”
“Aspen,” Raul says firmly, meeting my eyes. “I’ve been watching you for years. You’re ready.”
I swallow hard and slump back down in my seat.
Raul hired me at the resort as a cleaning boy to start. From there, I worked my way up—first to the ski lift control panel, and now, somehow, I’m an instructor. I’ve earned this. It feels like I'm renting this job from someone else. Like eventually, I’ll have to give it back.
“Okay, uh, yeah. Thanks, boss,” I stand up and say, leaning over his desk to shake his hand, hoping my palms aren’t too sweaty.
“Your first day on the job will be the day after tomorrow. We’ll start you off with some guests at the beginner and intermediate level and then go from there,” he informs me.
My worst case scenario brain always jumps to the conclusion that he's going to fire me whenever he calls me into his office.
I don't know why, Raul always has my back. He’s been the only one to truly support me.
Like that one time I broke my arm after not landing a flip, he was with me in the hospital every day while my mom was off on one of her boy toy trips and my dad was nowhere to be found.
He even started training me to go pro—on the condition that I kept working for him. It’s an easy gig and having his guidance is unbeatable, especially since he was a pro himself. He knows all the drills, every trick in the book and every way to make me sore for days.
“Sounds good. See you then,” I say.
I step out of the office, letting everything that just happened sink in. I can’t believe it. This is going to give me more riding time and practice. Granted, I won’t be doing what the pros do, but I can only become a master of something by teaching it to someone else, right?
Plus, I’m technically doing what pros do whenever I train with Raul.
Before I grab my board, I head over to the bathroom for my afternoon pick-me-up. I’m already off the clock, but now I plan on riding out the evening. My confidence is already boosted enough after that meeting, but this sure will help.
For a second I had myself convinced I’d be walking out with a box of my things, not a promotion. My brain’s like that—always prepping for worst-case scenarios like it’s doing me a favor. I have to go splash some water on my face.
What if I mess up? What if I can ride but not teach? Not everyone who can do something should be teaching it. My head continues to reel as I continue walking.
I ignore my inner voices and lock myself in one of the stalls. I place both palms on the door in front of me and let my head fall between them. The voices are still there, so I’m trying to breathe and push them down.
You’d think good news would be enough, that I could ride this high on adrenaline alone. But adrenaline’s unpredictable. Snow is unpredictable. Cocaine isn’t.
I hate needing the thing I said I’d never rely on.
I straighten back up and pull out my little vial of snow, and snort some up my nose straight from the container– I don’t want to leave any trace behind so I avoid putting snow anywhere on the bathroom stall.
I immediately feel an intense rush of euphoria mixed with energy.
It’s like flipping a switch. One second I’m spiraling, the next—quiet.
Too quiet. I was getting pretty tired after a long day of work so I needed this bump if I was going to do some training.
I exit the stall and check myself in the mirror to make sure there is no residue left on my nose.
I splash some water on my face and refocus on anything but my blown out pupils in the mirror.
I’m good.
I made my way to my station, where I’ve been working for the last three years running the chair lift and grab my board and helmet. I strap my left foot in and make my way to the lift.
I slip into the back of the line and wait just like everyone else. I could cut in line due to my employment here, but I decide not to be an asshole.
When it’s my turn, I pull the bar down over my lap and settle into the chair, holding my board up with my right foot while my left foot is strapped in.
I try to let my mind wander, focus on anything but everyday life.
I love my job, but sometimes it can get a little tedious and mundane which makes this new position all the more exciting and needed.
Okay, scratch that—this is the complete opposite of not thinking about everyday life.
I close my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, and let the fresh scent of pine trees and snow fill my senses. I open my eyes and marvel at the white blanket of snow below me. It is so clean and bright. If I stare too long, I might go blind.
The chair lifts me to the top in no time. I remove the bar, hop off, and dig my toes into the snow as I head toward the side of the mountain.
It’s not too cold yet. The season has just started, so I’m wearing only one layer instead of my usual three.
This is my favorite time to ride—when the air’s still crisp, but not freezing enough to numb my body and make falls hurt worse.
Plus, it’s easier to move and feel free without the wind and a thousand coats locking up my muscles.
Once you’ve got those bulky layers on, it’s hard to do much beyond basic technique.
I decide to hit ‘park,’ the area with ramps made of metal and snow for jumps and flips. I strap my right foot in and get ready to go.
I don’t wait for anything—I let my board do the work and just like that, all my stress dissipates.
I shouldn’t be stressing about this new position, but I don't want to let Raul down. He’s invested so much of his time in me and I don’t want him to think it’s all for nothing.
I need to prove to him that I can go on to be a professional snowboarder.
I shift my weight forward, digging my toes in the snow to turn right, then shift my weight back, digging my heels to swing left. I’m weaving back and forth, almost like I’m drawing patterns in the snow. As I spot a ramp ahead, I pick up speed, readying myself.
The momentum carries me to the top of the ramp and I shoot down with a rush of adrenaline.
I do a frontboard 360– where I slide sideways on a rail while facing forward, then spin in the air and land going the same way I started.
I land exactly as I had hoped, pumping with the energy coursing through me.
Some people pray. I snowboard.
Out here, flying down the slope, it’s like I finally match the speed of my own thoughts.
For once, I'm not behind them, chasing them and yelling at them to slow down so I can catch up. I’m not some adrenaline junkie who’s always looking for the next thrill, but when it comes to snowboarding, that rush is in every turn and jump I do.
Even though coke gives me that feeling, it's not the same as snowboarding. I do it because it clears my mind. I’m always thinking about something wrong in my life or stressing about something that’s going to happen.
It gives me a little bit of clarity, as well as the motivation to keep me advancing to my goals and dreams.
My dad has always struggled with substance abuse and I guess over time I started following in his footsteps.
I didn’t mean to at first, I was just trying it socially, but now it feels like I need the drug to keep my cool.
Now, I can’t imagine going without it as bad as it sounds.
I hope to quit one day, once all my problems go away, but for now this is how I cope.
For me, cocaine and snowboarding are the perfect mix.
Usually after fifteen minutes of taking a bump, someone might become irritable or tired or feel like they just got run over by a truck.
But for me, if I take it right before snowboarding, I feel the nice high on my way up the ski lift, and then when I come off of it I’m already kicking it in the ass by snowboarding and getting a natural sense of adrenaline.
I keep going up and down ramps, landing all my jumps and I’m at the bottom before I know it.
My heart rate has increased tremendously and I’m sweating profusely.
That was a good first run-through. I am going to go one more time, if that goes well, start trying out some flips I’ve been working on during my third round.
I’ve always wanted to become a professional snowboarder. My dad started teaching me when I was little; it’s become like second nature. It wasn’t until I started working at Smoky Pine Mountain and met Raul that it confirmed my dream was a possibility.
Raul has become my mentor. He’s also my best friend-Gio’s-dad.