Cage Your Ego Dude

Wedge, Wedge, Wedge...that's all I heard tonight and despite my best efforts, I can't wedge to save my freaking life.

Unless, of course, you count me wedging all the way down the main slope (Missi's) right under the main lift (Gateway) and right onto the grass at the edge of the snow. Wedge...you betcha, all the way to the most graceful faceplant there ever was.

So, here's this newly minted stud ski patroller, bright and shiny red jacket with the big white crosses, super sharp ski's and polished up boots, with the really fancy NSP hat. If nothing else, at least I'll look the part.

So, while working on my wedge, I was damned and determined to wedge all the way down the main slope - that is until my legs started to go soft and I lost general control and managed to wedge my way to a massive ego crushing garage sale.

Nice . . . and I thought the skiing part would be easy.