Alison Berkley: Feeling Xstatic after the games
I did way too much “X” this weekend.Oh, relax. I’m talking about the X Games, silly. Between all the fancy parties and friends in town and running around with my oh-so-important media credentials from event to event, I am totally wiped out from all the excitement. Even my dog was hungover today.Thank god we’re self-employed and can sleep in if necessary. Lord knows I need the rest so my eyes don’t get all puffy and wrinkled from all that sun and cold and dry mountain air and cigarette smoke at the bar. The last thing I need right now is a Botox injection.Forget about the backflipping moto and snowmobile guys. (Ladies, take note: Any man who can handle a machine like that may be worth remembering.) Nevermind all that ski and snowboard stuff. Flip, spin, go fast, whatever. That’s just icing on the cake, babe.What really matters is that Aspen is now hella-hip and cool, the kind of place where they have rock concerts on the streets and skateboarding is not a crime and kids grow up to become famous pro athletes, naked magazine cover models and television commentators.For the past four days, our precious little upscale resort transformed into something altogether different, like having a party at your parents’ house while they’re out of town. As long as you clean up the mess, nothing gets broken, and no one throws up on the carpet, it’s alllllllll good.”We trust you, honey. Here’s the number where we’re staying, and don’t forget to feed the cat.”Woo-hoo! Needless to say it brought back memories of cool babysitters and easy-to-bribe housekeepers and that landscaper guy who bought beer for us and that time I took my parents’ Mercedes for a test drive when I was only 15 and hit the side of the garage door trying to back out.But let’s not digress. The point is, everyone took full advantage of that loose party vibe without tarnishing the town’s shiny, gold image. Now we’ve got Gay Ski Week and 60,000 X Gamers thrown into the mix just to make sure we’re extra-normally charged. Way to redeem our reputation as Colorado’s flagship liberal community. You go, girls and boys!For starters, who would have guessed the Caribou Club (of all places) would host the likes of FHM magazine’s “Girls of the X Games Party?” Hundreds of sweatshirt-clad pro snowboarders and their belly-ring-bearing girlfriends made the place stuffier than ever with all those hot, young, sweaty bodies. Forget $10 cocktails, drinks were on the hiz-ouse. Free beer, vodka and Bacardi drinks for anyone with a pulse who managed to get their names on the guest list.The oh-so-elegant dining room was converted into a full-on dance floor, complete with disco ball and dozens of bumping and grinding 20-somethings. Girls made out, bulbs flashed, and with all the mayhem and fancy upholstered furniture, I felt like I was in the Playboy mansion. Way cool.To add to that L.A./red carpet vibe, the FHM folks set up one of those photo-op areas with velvet ropes and a huge poster of the magazine cover. Photographers popped their bulbs at the infamous X Games cover girls, including our own Gretchen Bleiler, South Lake Tahoe badass Tara Dakides, and that ESPN sports announcer chick with the fake tits.They all had clothes on, but looked pretty hot anyway. (Enough about the body paint thing already. I thought it was pretty tasteful considering.)Gretchen worked the snowboarder chic in jeans and white leather hip belt with chains and belly bearing top (mandatory) and matching newsboy cap. She might as well make the most of her knee injury with a little national publicity and (ahem) exposure. Bless her soul, she is a total sweetheart, and we should be proud of our little cover girl. I would give anything for a flat, tight belly like that. She looks fabulous and, let’s not forget, the child rips. Kisses, doll. Aspen represent!By 11 p.m., the place was as packed and stinky as Shooter’s during spring break. Who woulda thought that Harley guy would rent his fancy club out to a bunch of reckless drunken X Games types? I guess you should never judge a club by its cover.The following night I caught the Fishbone concert and a screening of “High Life,” a ski and snowboard film by Teton Gravity Research at Iguana’s. The movie and concert were a brilliant combination that did not go unnoticed. One of the guys in the band made an announcement toward the end of the show to that effect, bellowing over the mike, “If anyone in here has weed, we would be more than happy to smoke it!”The band rocked ska-style, with horn section and lots of dreadlocks and a super-hot lead singer with no shirt and tattoos and low-slung pants that exposed the top of his shapely black butt. Oh, don’t get your PC panties in a bunch. I’m sorry but my roommate at boarding school told me that the white man is simply not as well endowed from the waist down. Everyone knows that, end of story.Anyhoo, Iguana’s made for a sweet music venue and should consider doing so more often, if I do say so myself. I’m sure those folks at the Ritz-Carlton Club would love to have somewhere to go at night and get a taste (and smell) of real local “flavor.” Rock on!Just think, before this weekend, X was just a drug or a weird letter at the end of the alphabet. Now it marks the spot.[The Princess is recovering from all the excitement and would like a little quiet time. Send your kindest regards to her at email@example.com]
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