Alright, I am not here to talk about a basic spring break trip to the Panama CIty or Sandestin. I am here to talk about one of the greatest experiences I’ve ever had.  Now, being spring break, you would expect me to go a nice warm place with plentiful sunshine and clear blue skies.  No.  I was most definitely not in that kind of place.  This place is one where almost anything is possible, where you feel like you are touching the skies, and where dreams come true.  Well, maybe that is too far,  but you get the point.  Here there are layers upon layers of white covering the trees, rocks, and making the ground disappear.  Such a place can be found in the depths of the Rocky Mountains, in Breckenridge, Colorado.

With my sister and mom gone on their cruise, I knew this was going to be an unforgettable experience.
It all starts early one Tuesday morning, my dad and I start our “guys trip” with a nice breakfast at a diner called Home Grown, in the outskirts of Atlanta.  Somebody pulling up to this diner would most likely not want to stop by because of the surrounding abandoned cars and almost slum like ambiance.  Of course, this was not stopping Mike, the sketchy diner connoisseur.  Once entering, we were seated with a warm welcome and a friendly smile, which was not expected based on the location  At least, I was not expecting it.  My dad on the other hand, had already been here and was not taken away by the complete change in feel from just walking in the door.

“Hi, welcome to Home Grown! You guys look hungry, what can I get you two.”

Being in a slight rush to get to the airport, my dad and I ordered right away, hoping to be as quick as possible.  Since my mom was not around, and could not tell me what I should eat, I ignored the voice telling me to order something semi-healthy and went for a nice, fried chicken biscuit.  This was not just any regular chicken biscuit though.  I was amazed by the arrangement of tastes and sensations that such a simple food could have.  As we wobbled out of the diner, full and ready for the travel ahead, we approached the car and drove towards the airport.

The drive to the airport was nothing special, just an enjoyable ride filled with Young Thug, and good old father son bonding.  The soothing sounds of rap music filled the car with good vibes and nothing but excitement for the adventure that was soon to come. 

As I boarded the plane, the readiness to feel the cool, crisp Colorado air ran through my body, and all I could think about was gliding down the smooth slopes.  The sounds of the intercom blasted, and I plugged in my headphones and zoned it out, not worried about the repetitive safety “presentation”.  I think I’ve ridden enough planes to know how to buckle my own seatbelt.  I do not need a “trained” flight attendant to demonstrate for me.
Luckily, the sleep inducing sounds of Chief Keef kept me asleep long enough to avoid the awkward attempt of trying to tell the flight attendant what snack I wanted. The flight soon came to an end, and I anxiously grabbed my backpack and pushed through the tight aisle in an attempt to escape the plane.

The cold air of the Denver airport filled my lungs, and I felt at home.  As we ventured towards the baggage claim, I felt as if the mountains were calling my name.  I could not wait to strap up my bindings and ride down the first run of the day.

Before we could even think of getting on the mountain, we had to make it to the house, and with a big storm rolling in, we were not too sure about our journey ahead.  Leaving the airport, there was minimal signs of snow, but I knew that the magical whiteness was soon to be seen.

The drive from the airport to Breckenridge was about a two hour drive, but you could not beat the beautiful view.  We winded through the narrow roads of the Rocky Mountains enjoying the beautiful weather and the scenery that never seemed to disappoint.  The snow began to pick up and our optimistic attitudes soon began to fade.  Our navigation system notified us that there was eminent traffic and automatically knew we were doomed.  Icy highways and 18-wheelers do not mix well, and before we knew it, the only highway was being closed off due to a stackup of cars after a truck was jack-knifed.  I lost all hope and started to cry.  Well, maybe not crying, but that is what I was feeling.  With these kind of situations, you never know how long it will take to clear up.  My dad started to get annoyed and was hoping to find an alternate way to get around, but there was absolutely nothing.  We were currently just stuck in a tiny town off the side of the highway and had nowhere to go.

By now, the snow was coming down in marshmallow sized flakes and there was no hope for anyone in the same position as us.  Everyone was either cuddled up in their cars blasting the heat, or scavenging the only gas station for some “delicious” roller food and some candy.

Sitting and waiting in the car quickly became boring and we lost all hope for continuing on, so we started to head back to find a bigger area to wait in, instead of this tiny road that they call a town.  We were about five minutes down the highway when in the rearview mirror, I could hardly read the sign, but by the looks of it, it read “I-70 Open”.  We are forced to turn around, but both ecstatic that we can now continue our drive.  The remaining hour of the drive was luckily uneventful and we arrived safely, despite the slight setback. 

I quickly found my room and jumped right in bed, hoping for a few minutes of rest, but  I was soon dragged back out to go into the city to get all the gear necessary for our days in the snow.  The rest of the day dragged on as all my energy had been sucked away by the journey here.

As I was awaken by the calming sounds of an unnecessarily loud Honda civic roaring by the house the next morning, I could smell the fresh cereal and quickly rose to the growling of my stomach.  As I peered out the window with a slight squint, I was delightedly surprised with plentiful fresh snow.  It was draped over the deck and the street like a soft, white blanket. 

We strived to get out of the house as quickly as possible to be sure that we were not stuck waiting in lift lines.  After munching on some delicious cereal, I ran to my room to layer up.  Although there were “spring” conditions with highs all the way in the 40s, I put on my long underwear, all three of my jackets, and my snow pants.  We rushed out the door, packed the car, and drove off into the mountains.  Upon arriving to Breckenridge, my dad and I jumped out of the car, tied up our boots, and ventures towards the gondola.  We had small conversations with the strangers that rode up with us to pass the time away.  We reached the top of the first run and before you knew it, we were gliding through the deep snow without a worry in the world.  The day went by quickly and it could not have felt better to be back in my favorite place.

The next day arrived and I had the thought of trying out one of the big hikes on the mountain.  This is not just your average hike, but it is an almost completely vertical trek up the side of a snowy, icy peak.  My dad was very sceptical, but I was very persistent and eventually able to persuade him into taking it into consideration.  I knew I was going to do this hike and nobody could stop me.  We started the day off slow, going down moderately difficult runs, until we reached the top of Peak 9.  This is where the intriguing hike was and I do not think I could have been more ready for it.  I automatically unstrapped my board and began to hike, hopefully forcing my dad to follow.  As I slowly paced up this slope, I could feel my body resisting.  The lack of oxygen was putting a major strain on my body, but there was no stopping now.  We reached the summit at 13,000 feet and the view was outstanding.  I felt like I was standing over the surrounding mountains and I could see for miles.  My dad slowly crawled up a few moments after I did with heavy breath and a look of accomplishment.  Experiencing my dad taking on this adventure was a huge deal to me and really showed me what he was willing to do to make sure I was having a good time.  We both new that our skills were not comparable to the ones necessary to successfully complete this run, but that did not stop us.  We zoomed towards the death defying drop-in and peered over the edge with a terror in our eyes.  I slowly scooted towards the edge and began to ride down when my board hit an edge and I began to roll.  I rolled for a good ten seconds and somewhere during that time, my foot managed to get loose, causing my board to twist my ankle.  This tumble did not stumble me, for I quickly got up to the eager sounds of the spectators making sure I was all good.  It was my dad’s turn now and after watching me roll down such a slope, I could tell he was regretting it.  It did not stop him,  and his commitment to giving me a great experience overruled him as I watched him scoot down the death drop.  Luckily, he did not experience the same wipeout that I did and slowly, but semi-successfully made it down the insane hill.  We both cheered with joy that it was over and agreed that we will never do such a thing again.  

The night quickly came and so did our hunger.  We dined well at a local pub that had everything two guys could ask for: Burgers and of course, for my dad, beer.  We laughed away at our epic day of pushing our skills to the extreme.  The next, and final day snowboarding came swiftly, but did not lack a great time.  Although we did not attempt another insane hike like the day before, we enjoyed taking it easy, cruising through the trees and the wide open runs.  Making sure to take this day easy, we decided to head down the mountain a little early in search for some food.

The trip was soon coming to an end, and the mourning started to kick in.  How could I leave such a beautiful place after such an amazing time?  The three days I had out on the mountain were some of the greatest experiences I have yet to have.  Being only with my dad had shown me a new side of him and the drive he has to give me the best time possible, no matter the circumstances.  Although I may have suggested doing crazy things, like a 1,000 vertical foot hike and then dropping off a corneus, he was still there to support me and experience it with me.  We drove off from the house and back to the airport with sullen faces wishing we could stay longer, but reality had strucken with school only two days away.  Throughout this trip, I had acknowledged the respect I have for my dad and the seek to be as good of a father as him can be exemplified through the experiences that we share together.