The Plight of Mr. NOSNOW

Had an interesting one the other day.  I was sitting in my dentist’s office waiting for my appointment, contemplating just why it is that we haven’t seen our normal amount of natural snowfall yet this season at Sugar Bowl (and I stress “yet”), while at the same time giving thanks to all our snowmakers and groomers who have done an amazing job, especially considering what they’ve had to work with thus far, producing corduroy cruisers that have actually been nothing short of awesome.  But it’s January in the mountains and it’s 50 degrees out…we’re all more than ready for a sweet Sugar Bowl powder day.  So I’m sitting there in the dentist’s office watching the reception girl on the phone, when I notice a patient’s file out on the counter.  To my amazement, this person has the unbelievable misfortune of having the last name NOSNOW.  Who, in a mountain town like Truckee, surrounded by world-class ski resorts like Sugar Bowl, has a last name like NOSNOW?  I’m thinking, especially in a year such as this, Mr. NOSNOW should be run out of town at midnight by a bunch of local folk carrying torches and pitchforks.  That very thought makes me chuckle out loud, so I stand up to slowly walk away from the person sitting next to me who now thinks I’ve already received my prescribed dosage of laughing gas, and perhaps a healthy one at that.  But as I slowly pass the check-in desk for a closer look (at the patient file, not the reception girl), my amazement turns to horror as I realize the last name on the folder is not, in fact, NOSNOW at all, but rather, as it’s slowly spinning right-side up and forwards along with my point of view, MONSON.  So, it turns out, Mr. NOSNOW will not, in fact, be run out of town by crazed townfolk, but rather, Mr. MONSON, standing in an office looking rather dazed, is simply the next patient up to see the doc.  Now, as a lifelong, dedicated and passionate skier, the very thought that my last name, MONSON, could be so closely, dangerously and unfortunately associated with NOSNOW, in any capacity, immediately makes me wonder if the town clerk has an opening that day so I can legally change it to something else (sorry dad), like maybe STEEPNDEEP?  This deeply engrained passion for the sport, one so present that I’m actually contemplating disassociation with familial heritage, reminds me of the time when I went to get new license plates at the DMV, only to have the guy bring out shiny new plates that unfortunately happened to start with the letters “ACL”, so I had to explain that I was a skier, you see, and those plates would simply not do, for no skier in their right mind would drive around with “ACL” displayed on their car.  But then it hits me.  This whole NOSNOW/MONSON thing is actually quite awesome indeed.  You see MONSON, by being right-side up and forward, is actually the polar opposite of, the farthest away one can get from, NOSNOW.  NOSNOW, being upside down and backwards, is, by its very nature of being upside down and backwards, the polar opposite of MONSON, and therefore, I reason, NOSNOW is actually the antithesis of MONSON.  So, everything is OK because my last name actually repels the notion of a snowless winter, and actually promotes powder days at Sugar Bowl.  Awesome.  And with that settled, a smile on the face, I went in to see the dentist to receive the truly bad news of the day…

 

 

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