Most of all, I miss the mischievous twinkle I would see in the eyes of my resort workmates. This was back in the early days when we knew for sure we were getting away with something but couldn’t quite put our finger on what it might be.
We were young, on the lam from the 60s, and the world was ours for the taking. We didn’t need no stinkin’ lift lines. We couldn’t find one if we tried. We would laugh without restraint, our bodies aquiver, tears running down our faces, barely able to stand upright.
No reason to sugarcoat it. For the most part we were ski bums who knew how lucky we were. The mountains of Utah performed as an antidote to the age of anxiety. We felt we owed it to our brothers and sisters in both Vietnam and Canada to keep the faith and what better place to do it than in this Eden of an old mining camp.
And, although snortin’ tear gas in the streets no longer cut it, skiing the Wasatch while thumbing our nose at the rest of the crazy world seemed somehow an equally radical notion. Besides, if you had any issues with the natives, you could always riot on Main Street to clear the cobwebs.
And then, every few years, shifts in the paradigm would alter the comfort zone. Some felt almost seamless, as when Treasure Mountain morphed into the Park City Resort. Then came the Park City Ski Area followed by Park City Mountain Resort. Even then, twinkles remained encased in the collective orbit bone.
Admittedly, not everyone reposing in the trenches near the bottom of the ever-evolving organizational-charts were able to maintain their ecstatic levels to the same degree they had previous. But at least, for the most part, working and frolicking in the mountains hadn’t lost its inherent luster.
I must say, however, that, among those former resort co-workers with whom I continue to interact, the advent of the Vail mindset has changed all that. Not that these year-around employees are, as yet, walking zombies. But up to now, the aforementioned twinkle has all but disappeared as has the spring in their step.
To those who feel I’m talking out of school, I apologize. I’m quite aware that none of them wanted their concerns to see print. And they won’t. But to witness the passion these people once felt for the lifestyle they had created erode to the point it has is numbing.
Of course, I’m biased. This is an opinion column and I’ve been ranting against Vail and the horse it-most-probably-would-ride-in-on since the first rumor arrived. Others, of course, see their inclusion as part of the fabric of our community quite differently. I see them as nothing short of just a different manifestation of the Koch Brothers.
Not that I expect any of the non-profits in town to turn down their money. When Vail purchased PCMR they also bought the responsibility of matching the former resort’s monetary contributions to our culturally rich landscape, which were considerable.
In fact, I’m not asking anyone to do anything. It’s all been done for them. It’s quite understandable that both local and destination skiers would enjoy riding new lifts, dining in new slope-side restaurants, and, via the Epic Pass, paying less for the privilege. I don’t for a second doubt that many components of the skiing experience will be enhanced. And that’s a good thing.
Those, however, who, for whatever reason, have never congregated with rank-and-file resort employees on a semi-regular basis, whether on the slopes, in the workplace, or at one of our town’s legendary watering holes, are missing out on what makes ski-towns so special. It’s always been the case and the current bunch certainly carries that torch.
To be sure, corporate structures have seldom been labor friendly, but Vail has developed a rep for making the workplace less inviting wherever it lands, a reputation that, seemingly, is in no danger of deteriorating in these parts. Whatever they’re doing, from the outside looking in, it appears somewhat toxic. I know. I know. “It’s not personal. It’s business.”
The fact is, they are in danger of losing some very gifted employees, workers who not only know the ropes but also, in many instances, wove them. I’m heartbroken that it’s worked out this way for so many true believers who, among other things, kept the faith. If only the ghost of resort raptures past would come along and put the twinkle back in their eyes.