BEAVER CREEK, Colorado–This place has been packed. The day of the Downhill at Beaver Creek people were parking in front of my house, spots normally reserved for hoodlums. Last week, they busted a fake-I.D. ring in the unit next door. Laminating phony Resident Alien cards.

The ski world championships started about a week ago, with a whimper. No one foresaw the impact that Super Bowl celebrations would have. People flocked to a parade in Denver, or were hungover. Needless to say, nobody showed for the opening ceremonies. Then again, there's nothing cool about skiing, except skiing.

Even if you're not a skier, it was easy to appreciate the skiing. I dragged myself out of bed earlier than I had for a month for the eleven o'clock start. Holy cow! I seriously couldn't believe how many people showed up. People with Viking horns on their heads, flags draped everywhere. I'd never seen an event like it. I heard the snowboard worlds were pretty rad in Italy last week, but I wasn't there.

They actually chained all the busses and drove them up a packed catwalk to get us to the event. My quiet little mountain was out of control. I wouldn't have even wanted to ride that day. Grand stands on the slopes.

I watched for a while. The course was insane. A friend of mine sideslipped it on his board, said he couldn't have stopped if he wanted to. No wonder–for over a week before the race they'd been watering down the course with hoses. They like it that way.

I wanted to see Hermann, the Austrian ruler. Man, he blew me away. He skied a gnarly, gnarly downhill like it was a G.S. We've got a long way to go. I stayed long enough to see two U.S. guys eat it hard. I was in the right spot for both. When is the last time you got inverted going 60? It was pretty gripping. I was freaked.

So, it was cool, for a day. Well, for an hour or so. I went home

and watched it on T.V. right after and it was much better. Okay, now everyone go home. And get your car out of my spot.