There is a haze around the periphery of my vision. Thick smoke invadesmy lungs like some acidic, greasy bacon too rapidly eaten. This is not abad thing, especially when the next words to reach my distracted earsare spewed from Schroder's mouth in thoughtless comedy regarding thebest performance by a female award, "These chicks rip lines like youguys rip farts!" Who else caught that heavily buzzed witticism? No onewill ever know, but such humor is a great talent of the emcee of thenight...the gift of gab.

Earlier that day we are defying logic and good sense. The glades andcliff bands of Mushrroom Bowl lie below us, untracked powder beckoningour bloated, wide-waisted skis. Slipping into the crispy freshnessvalidates our suffering on hardpacked ice and crud in-bounds.

I ski to the base of the Vista Bahn at 9 A.M. that morning. The POWDERto the People EuroVan sits easily beneath the chairlift, beckoning allriders to visit the to-be epic St. Patty's day POWDER party that night.Throngs of one-pieced, Texas A&M Starter jacketed, and dreadlock-hattoting skiers mob an unmoving lift line. I roll my eyes in agony, inshock from the previous days of skiing with twenty other dedicatedrippers at Silverton Mountain Ski Area.

Vail is an overcrowded mecca for the groomer-seeking upper class. Vailis a deserted mecca for the powder-seeking dirtbag intent on jumping30-footers into bottomless powder. Pick your poison. - J.R.

Photos: 1. Josh Rhea deciding air is smoother than powder. 2. Red Hookkicking down the hook-up at the POWDER to the People party. 3. The grandslam: this guy won two VIP passes to everywhere in Colorado as well asthis pair of stylin' Salomon Pocket Rockets. 4. Gabe Schroder preppingfor the night's ho-down.