i HEART danger

since coming to aspen several weeks ago, i have made the most of my penchant for penny pinching, while still indulging in some the area's luxuries. dinner at pinõns, takah sushi, jimmy's, and social. snowboarding daily on aspen highlands. après ski cocktails at 39°, hottubbing outdoors at the base of aspen mountian, and steaming at the aspen club and spa. (let's just say it really does pay to have connections. and...friends that love you). one evening of dining, however, had less to do with my connections and more to do with my own spirit of competition.

inevitably ending the week of festivities for aspen's annual gay ski week gathering is the anticipated downhill costume contest, this year hosted by the venerable miss richfield 1981, of richfield, minnesota heritage. the annual event never ceases to draw a hefty crowd of ski-week goers, out-of-towners, and locals alike. friday morning, in a flash of inspiration, i ran through town an hour before the competition was slated to begin, gathering materials for a costume i knew was sure to place.

actually, the idea was born some hours before, as the previous night's party was wrapping up on the dance floor of aspen's belly up club. mineshaft, the assumed moniker of the night out, was a continuation of the week's theme—a sort of "welcome to the dirty mining town of the west" idea, which was imbued from aspen's mining origins in the 1800's. complete with faux stone walls and red caution tape overprinted with the more alarming "danger", mineshaft hosted dancers late into the night, rocking the night away. as the last to leave, i—along with friend christopher (who's blog contains a more fully-painted picture of the week's happenings)—gathered every bit of red danger tape in a fit of inebrieted passion. christopher's suggestion to mummy me in the stuff was enough provocation to lead me out into the night, arms full of flapping tape, headed to bed with the first thoughts of tomorrow's costume in mind.

at roughly 1pm the next afternoon, danger boy was gliding swiftly down the steep face of aspen mountain, barely clad in tightly wrapped and precariously placed danger tape, skin exposed to the 10 degree weather, and guided by the bright flames of several road flares in hand. the descent was quick. audiences gawked. at the base of the mountain, a small stage stood between the hill and the onlookers. when danger boy approached, he took one gentle leap onto the platform, sliding towards the wide-eyed patrons in the front row, barely maintaining balance as he skidded to a stop at the front edge of the platform. unstrapping his snowboard, he continued the performance with deft movents around the stage, the light of the flares leading him into rapturously fluid movements around the host, across the stage, and in front of the judges. it was surely these dynamic, inspired movements set to "eye of the tiger" that won the hearts of the people and the scores from the judges. bringing this act to first place, the scores set a new precedent a single 9 and four 10's.

it was funny, then, that minutes later when the final places were called, danger boy failed to capture either the third place spot or one of the two first place spots that came in at a tie. in fact, there was no further mention of the dubious superhero, except for front-page coverage in the town's newspaper the next morning. wrangling in the top score, danger boy was nonetheless relegated to a local myth: much hearsay, but no concrete evidence.

days later, as i was beginning to pack my bags, mentally preparing for my fated return to the city, my cell phone started buzzing. denise, the woman who was in charge of the downhill competition—the one who gathered the contestents, seated the judges, and added the scores—was calling to let me know there had been a mistake.

"you should have placed in the top three. i'm so sorry, i feel so awful! i want to make it up to you." the next night, courtesy of denise, my friend natasha and i were dining at aspen's finest sushi spot, matsuhisa. the dinner was lovely, of course, and anyone who knows me understands the dynamics between me and a free meal. but really, i wasn't discouraged at all by the lack of correct computation in scoring the competition. by now, it is easy to see, that my reasons for such behavior transgress the mere desire of obtaining a prize. if it weren't for you, my dear blogging friends, i wouldn't have the desire at all.