Sprechen Sie Bieber…
Usually magic takes my radio show from a studio to Spain, Greece, England, Norway, Italy, and Germany. This weekend, a bus did.
It takes a lot of buttons to play the Bieber.
We packed a couple of traveling circus boxes of gear to the Edelweiss Lodge and Resort and set up two days of shows.
It’s a little odd doing that which you usually do alone, in public. All of a sudden people can SEE what your face looks like when you’re giving the time and I.D.ing the Bieber. But it’s also great — suddenly you KNOW that you’re not talking into nowhere. You can take requests in person, show kids how the board works while you’re doing a show, and if you’re lucky enough, you’ll get told you’re doing a good job.
I was going to say this is my first Navy coin, but I would be horribly remiss — my first was a Bolivian quarter fashioned into a coin with a Post-it saying “You’ve been coined.” I love that one, too.
One of — no, my favorite part of my job is putting people on the radio who have never done it before, or who are nervous about it, or who might just go all rogue on me.
Making people comfortable and making them sound good is the best. With kids, you have to be ready for the nodding, grinning silence. Adults are easier to wrangle. And some find out they kind of love it. Give me a game co-host who will roll with it, and I’ll give you at least one funny hahah. Maybe as many as two.
And right behind my kit, was the Alps. Snow is like fairytale frosting, always. I have no doubt I’d hate to live in a place covered with it for a whole season, but to visit is quite fine.
I met a whole crew of West Coasters in Garmisch for the U.S. Ski Team races — we could see them fly down the mountain like greased fleas without even having to go outside.
In fact, my ski instructor (who wisely didn’t let me start at the top of the race course) and the incredibly helpful guy who hooked me up with boots, were both from Oregon. Pacific Standard Time, represent (and etcs.)
I grew up an hour from Mt. Hood, and I came to Germany to get taught to ski by a guy from Hood River. Weird. And I didn’t even fall down! I did however, meet my nemesis.
Germany is wonderful. Cozy snow-covered houses tucked among cross-country ski trails with hardy souls swishing by — but truth to vegan: if you’re going to Deutschland for more than 48 hours, pack food that isn’t potatoes.
The good news is, I’ve successfully completed french fry aversion therapy. The better news is, there’s always Helles. And giant pretzels. And that really good mustard! Okay, never mind. You’ll be fine.
