“You guys ready for this weekend, it’s going to be a big one! What with the Dew Tour in town.” This is the quote that greeted me from the other side of the counter as some guy who was clearly more enthused with the televised energy drink wars that annually invades Breckenridge than myself. I looked at him with serious disdain and just walked away shaking my head. This has become the norm for myself and many others.
Yes the Dew Tour is a big event and yes people will come to town. Some are here to get trapped in the vendor village while getting an autograph or some kind of chotchke freebie, while others are just here to pro-ho themselves out on the south side of town to whatever “athlete” doesn’t have to compete. It’s a mix of glorified pan-handling and questionable decision making fueled by sugar drinks and alcohol. If you’ve ever been to an outdoor stadium butt-rock festival, then you’ve been to Dew Tour.
I’ve lived here since it’s inception in the 2008/2009 season. I’ve watched the steady stream of changing sponsors come and go, leaving in their wake discarded banners that now line crowded overpriced condo’s living rooms. I’ve picked up more empty cans of rat piss and beer that for some reason people think can just be strewn about without regard to the beauty of this town. The one year my roommate managed to instigate a riot that resulted in one of Toyota’s promotional trucks being flipped on its side outside Cecelia’s. In short, I am that local that has seen and done it all and just doesn’t care anymore. After all you can only Back Dat Ass up to Juvenile while sweating your face off on an over crowded dance floor as some shit bag throws pint glasses into a ceiling fan so many times.
See for most people Dew Tour is just a weekend, a getaway from their mundane lives, and a chance to rub elbows with snowboarding’s elite. For those of us that live here it’s longer than that. The season will kick off and unless we are lucky enough to get some Northwest flow bringing early snow that means we’re left with man made snow. This also means limited terrain, but don’t worry instead of pouring snow-making resources into opening more of the mountain, 60% of it has to go to getting the halfpipe and Dew Tour course up and running. So that constant grumble you hear in town, yeah that’s the beast that is the Dew Tour waking up from it’s annual slumber. It’s letting everyone know that we’re all riding the white ribbon of death till almost Christmas.
Then the athletes arrive and with them come their coaches that look like they fell out of the pitcrew of some third rate NASCAR team. Jackets lined with Visa, Double Donkey Dicks Dildos, and Vagisil labels all over them. They might not speak the same language as you, but being a douche bag is universal. They’ll stand in the way of the drop in for the medium park, they’ll cut you in the lift line, and if you work in town they’ll be sure to come in and talk down to you about how some guy with a name you can’t pronounce is the ‘NEXT BIG THING’. All the while you’re left to sit there and shake your head. The level of disdain just grows from there, I strongly urge everyone to just stop going to the grocery store for that month as you’re likely to flip out when there’s no bananas or eggs and the shelves look like people are stocking up for a winter apocalypse. I imagine this is what grocery stores in Georgia look like after they get an inch of snow.
As the event gets closer that white ribbon of death gets a whole lot more deadly as they build the vendor village. Oh, but think of all the free stuff you’ll get. Honestly you can only do so much with a couple hundred cases of Mountain Dew and some kind of shitty face mask. Perhaps you should just take those freebies and waterboard yourself, it’s about as equally enjoying.
Then the event starts and in typical fashion it will snow. It’s a guarantee in the state of Colorado that if you want it to snow, you just host a contest. So then you’ll see all these athletes and their coaches bitching about how the half pipe had 6 inches of snow in it or that the light was flat and so and so couldn’t see with their double anodized fossilized pixie shit mega lens. Your response to all this will be “Yay powder day!” Oh but that two seconds of jubilation will be cut short when you remember that 2.8 million people from Denver will be driving up here. They have to get that fresh then watch someone do an octocork in the stunt ditch.
You can feel the onslaught of their arrival coming as your phones 4g dwindles to pre dial-up levels. Want to send an iMessage, sucks to suck, better be on Wifi. Oh want to tweet that you just saw Shaun White at the grocery store, sorry buddy your real time updates are down for the count. Going to do the cliché Instagram photo of a shadowy base area and chair lift, well save that photo for later chicka. You’ve now entered the dead zone!
If you ever want to see irony in one place just head to Peak 8. Here you can witness people pay over $100 dollars for a lift ticket so they can sit on a patio outside and stare at a big screen TV to watch a live event that is going on literally a couple hundred feet away. Sadly they could just ride the gondola up for free, but perhaps they might make two laps all day. Personally save the cash and watch the live event on TV, you don’t have to worry about parking.
The only remotely saving grace is the Friday night Streetstyle contest. Yes, this is the fancy title for a rail jam. They close down a street, have Keystones park crew come over, and set up a weird course that eventually turns from rails to a flip contest. People scream, cameras snap, and then the crowd disperses heading to the south side of time for what will inevitably be an exercise in questionable decision making.
After the days activities of standing around in the cold and freezing your ass off, you know what sounds fun? Standing around sweating your ass off indoors while dubstep and trap music blast. There’s only four things that come out of the aftermath of partying like your liver still functions properly and thats:
1) You lose your phone.
2) You lose your jacket.
3) You lose your credit car.
4) You lose some variation of your dignity.
After numerous years of dealing with all this I opted to go to A Basin instead and hit rocks. Why? Because in the future rock riding will be the main Dew Tour event, I plan to be ahead of the trend for once. As the title sponsorship changes I want to be there when Fracking Industry takes over and sells people on cracking rocks. In short Dew Tour sucks if you live here, sure you might have just moved here and are now a “local” and you loved it, but believe me eventually there will come a time where you just don’t give a fuck anymore, and that’s where I’m at. If you really want to experience Dew Tour shake up a can of Redbull spray it in your face, stick your feet in an ice bath, and then have your friend nail you with a strobe for a few minutes while listening to Dub-Step.