Copper Mountain - 2 Reviews

Ma'am, please. Get down here in the bomb shelter before another bomb goes off. Shut the door. We don't want any bad guys or shrapnel coming down here. This is a safe zone. You never thought you'd be in a bomb shelter, did you? Well, here beneath the Jewish school, we've been stocking up. Notice how we have separate shelves for meats and dairy. I'm not even Jewish and I can appreciate the orthodox nature of this organized bomb shelter. Sure, until the smoke clears, we won't be able to eat a cheeseburger or pepperoni pizza, but I can deal with it. We've got plenty of Twinkies and this canned hot chocolate. It's diet because if we lived off nothing but Twinkies, gelt, and non-diet hot cocoa, we wouldn't be able to make it up the stairs because we would have gained so much weight.

We've got like fourteen cases of this hot cocoa and eleven car batteries to run the microwave and space heater. Can I make you a can? Yes? Great. It will be ready in a minute.

Here you are. Piping warm. What do you think? Yeah, I got that, too. It's good at first and then gets really diet tasting. You always know that it's hot cocoa, but it's got a constant sucralose undertone. It's not bad. Sure, we've also got bottled water, but this is in a can, which I feel is chemical bomb proof. You know what? On second though, this might be harder than we thought. Why? Well...how to put this...they stocked the food, have blankets, batteries, water, but they're forgetting one thing. Toilets. There is nowhere to go to the bathroom and there is a concrete floor that is four feet thick so we can't even go in a hole. Looks like that room that you thought was yours is going to have a handful of pee corners. Sorry, ma'am.

Martin hated skiing. Let me rephrase that. Martin hated skiing with his family. They were all terrible, which is fine and good except they always went to the same rinky dink slopes. Martin knew what he was doing and dreamed of slopes like the K12 that would provide both excitement and a challenge. Instead year after year his family would pile into the car and go to the most budget ski resort that ever existed. Actually you couldn't even call it a resort. There was no elaborate lodge or rooms for rent. The only structure was a tiny shed that the cashier sat in that also housed a combo hot chocolate-coffee machine. You know the kind with the little paper cups. When you finish drinking your beverage you look into the bottom and there is a symbol from one of the four suits of cards. If it matches up with the one on the outside you won a free coffee or something. I don't think anyone ever won, and if they did I doubt they ever claimed their prize.

Last year Martin's dad had gotten into a scuffle with the machine when it ate his change. He had kicked the crap out of it until the cashier finally looked up from her copy of Vogue and asked him to stop. That was the highlight of the trip for Martin.

Here he was again at the slopes. Luckily the weather had been unseasonably warm this year, so it looked like this was going to be their only trip for the winter. Martin went down the slope three times before he accepted that it was dumb and pointless. He had a couple of quarters in his pocket, so he figured he might as well get a hot chocolate. When he entered the shack he instantly noticed that the machine was gone, and in its place was a shelf of Hot 2 Go beverages and a microwave. How could he not notice, there was nothing else in the shack. The cashier had been replaced with a vending machine of sorts. It was hard times out on the slopes. Oh well, what can you do. Martin grabbed a hot chocolate, peeled off the metal cap and threw the “cup” into the microwave for 60 seconds. When he pulled it out it was actually at a drinkable temperature, so he didn't have to worry if he had waited long enough to not scald his tongue. It actually wasn't bad. It tasted like the same hot chocolate as the machine dispensed, but not as watered down. It tasted more like cocoa than hot sweet water. He had gotten it just to warm him up, but he discovered that he really enjoyed it. It wasn't enough to make the trip a pleasurable experience, but it occupied his time for the 30 seconds it took him to drink it.