Chairlift Confidential

A typical chairlift ride is about ten minutes long— the perfect amount of time to chat with a stranger that you have almost no chance of running into again. I hope you enjoy this occasional recounting of perhaps true chairlift conversations.

— A job that might be better than retirement….

“I just retired last week, I am so happy I can ski more,” a fashionably dressed thin woman told me as we ascended the Gatehouse lift.

“Congratulations, what type of job did you have?” I asked politely, mentally guessing a typical answer (accountant, lawyer, doctor, teacher…)

“I was a draper,” she said.

“As in fabric?” I asked.

She gave me a shy smile, “Yes, I was with the MET Opera costume department for 30 years.”

— Welcome, kiwis

A dad, a 7-year-old daughter and 9-year-old son and I rode up together.

“Where are you from?” I asked as we settled, 

“New Zealand,” the dad answered in a very American accent.

“Really?” My tone was wary.

“I grew up here, but went for a visit ten years ago and never left,” he said.

“Yah, mate. Hell-low,” said the daughter with a grin.

— Shh, don’t tell my wife.

On a bluebird 930 AM lift with fresh snow underneath us, a 30-something man and I rode up and exchanged the basics: where we lived (local), where we worked (remote), our families. He brought up his two young children, so I asked how old.

“They are two and four,” he said with a smile, radiating pride.

“Oh, are they at pre-school?” I asked.

He looked around as if anyone could hear us 20 feet up in the air. “No. They are in the daycare.,” he said. “But. don’t tell my wife, because it was my morning to watch them.”