She wore a unicorn costume to her doom.  The crowd cheered.  The molten snow made everyone squint.  I defiantly stood over my neighbor’s soda.

In early April, Girdwood, Alaska hosts the annual Slush Cup.  Several dozen rider-swimmers take turns speeding down the bottom of the ski run toward a ramp.  The ramp launches them over an icy pond.  Alyeska Resort digs the pond just for the event.  A rider technically is successful if he or she can land a jump and water ski across the pond without getting wet.  Riders get extra points for outlandish costumes and tricks or crashes.

Back to the soda.  This year I went to the event as a bonus.  The purpose of my day was to hike out to a glacier, view it, and be awed.  Visiting the Slush Cup was a whim.  And this guy with ear buds and tribal tattoos was blocking my view of my whim.  I tried to empathize with him.  Of course he was just trying to be a good friend.  The soda bottle was meant to reserve a spot in the viewing area.  But my internal dialogue justified my encroachment, “The early bird gets the worm… A penny saved is a penny earned,” I told myself.  His soda habit will probably lead to diabetes.  I had encroached at dozens of concerts and festivals. I will encroach again.

What I learned is that Girdwood in general, and the Slush Cup in particular, has a reputation for hedonism.  Everyone just wants to have a good time. The word is revelry and less of debauchery.  Families come and friends meet up.  The festival vibe is in full swing.  And nothing is serious.

But then there is this guy.  Standing right in front of me.  He can’t be more than 5’10” but the slope of the hill is away from the ramp.  He is very slight, but I can’t see through him.  His ear buds come out and he turns around.

“Hey man, thanks for saving my spot.  I think I am gonna watch up on the hill.  We can see everything from up there.  You don’t need this anymore though.”  The “bro” who the soda was for has arrived.  To my embarrassment, he removes the soda from between my heels.  But I think, “Good, follow your bro.  Let me see.”

“I’m gonna stay and make sure I get a few good shots.”  My neighbor-obstacle will remain.  I look for his camera.  Is he hiding a camera with a fast shutter and a fancy lens?  He pulls out his phone and wobbles it at the bro.

The local radio DJ announces the next rider.  “The Jesus” is a local lift operator.  He doesn’t waver to slow down on his path toward the ramp.  His brown monk habit flaps and his floor length rosary clips against the snow.  The DJ jokes, “He can walk on water, but can he board?”  The Jesus kicks too high off the ramp.  I lose sight of him behind my neighbor.  The splash is drowned out by laughter and cheers.