SKI Magazine’s content producer pops her Aspen cherry.
Mar 26, 2019
I was a 31-year-old Aspen-virgin. Despite having lived in Crested Butte, Colo.—just 24 miles south of Aspen as the crow flies—for a number of years, I’d never made it to the ski mecca located just on the other side of the Maroon Bells.
At first, it didn’t bother me. In my mind Aspen was the go-to destination for the glitterati, not the serious skier. But then I started running into more and more skiers on my wavelength (caring mostly about expansive expert terrain, annual snow totals, and minimal lift lines) who all flocked to Aspen.
I began to wonder—was I missing out?
FOMO (and copious amounts of peer pressure), led me to finally take the plunge this season. I was resolute, yet anxious. What if it didn’t live up to the hype? What if it became clear through my awkward bumbling around the mountain that I was a total noob?
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