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The
SIA Tradeshow 99:
Woooo!
3/8/99
By
Melissa Larsen
I lost my ID in Vegas. Somewhere between losing sense
of time and my concept of reality, I reached into the pocket of
the sweatshirt I had almost lost and discovered that my ID was gone.
Since I'd already lost my way home, I decided to lose the remainder
of my money in the casino I found myself in.
When I awoke the following afternoon and realized that you can't
do anything in Vegas without ID - like get on a plane to fly away
from the evil place - I almost lost my mind.
Vegas is like a sick joke. Mid-winter, the SIA tradeshow is a tantalizing
mirage that glistens in the future for us snowboarding industry
folk like a beautiful desert oasis. Its siren song beckons with
promises of a good time: "Come," it croons. "Drink the plentiful
desert water. Dance and be merry. Forget what happened last year
with the cops and that one uptight club bouncer. This time it will
all be different. Vegas is fun!"
But it's never different. It's Groundhog Day: You go with wallet
full of cash, eyes full of hope, pockets full of shakas*. Three
days later you wind up in a bar at four a.m. with a bunch of people
you thought you knew, and all anyone can talk about is how much
sleep they haven't gotten, food they haven't eaten, and money they
used to have.
And then it happens. It could be somewhere on a dance floor, at
a craps table, or in some greasy 24-hour diner. You find yourself
shakaless, energyless, and penniless staring bleakly at the surrounding
people who--like yourself--are desperately clinging to the fantasy
that the party train is still rolling at full steam, and the inevitable
realization occurs: "What the hell am I doing here? I could be home
riding powder."
Somewhere in the haze of the tradeshow my lack of contributions
to our Web site this winter was brought to light. See, I'm supposed
to be reporting weekly on which pros I'm hanging out with (soooo
many - you don't even know, dude. Yo, I'm like a rock star. Seriously.),
what they're doing, and with which hand they wipe. But I spend most
of my time in a land with relatively few pros - where I come from
we call them bros, though. And I don't really feel comfortable exploiting
their lifestyles - even if it is my job. Plus I'm lazy. But I have
to write something, so here's my SIA report:
There were many pros in attendance. But other than my future boss,
Dave Sypniewski gambling away all the rent money he owes Todd Richards;
my personal hero Karleen Jefferey winning the riders poll award
for best big mountain rider; and Dionne Delesalle repeatedly trying
to crawl into bed with me after I was already asleep and then playing
the denial off to his bros in the morning so he wouldn't look bad;
I really don't think any of them would appreciate me posting their
antics for millions to read.
Las Vegas should be bombed off the face of
the planet. It would keep a lot of us out of trouble.
That is all. Turn your damn computer off
and go outside. Life's too short to geek out.
-Melissa
*high fives
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