How A Snowboard Jacket Saved Me From A Frozen Death

Twelve years ago I was 19 years old, living in Lake Placid, NY basically just being a snowboard bum. There really isn’t any other way to put it. Four guys living in an apartment and working low paying kitchen jobs just so we could spend our weekends snowboarding, drinking and doing whatever else we deemed fit. Joel, Gary, Chris and myself worked, partied, ate bagels and went snowboarding. It wasn’t a terrible life, just a bit immature and irresponsible, so be it. Our landlord was a tremendous jerk, and we fought over everything (when we were sober)… It was a lot like college without any degree to show we did something constructive with our partying.

I can still remember showing off my shiny, newly acquired bottle of Jim Beam before the evening’s festivities began, it was New Years Eve. No one was allowed to touch it, it was mine and I wasn’t even planning on using a glass. We had another stupid party planned, no different than any other we had thrown over 30 times that season, four out-of-town guys, local girls and their friends, and a boatload of fun. Say what you want, we were young and loving it.

Somewhere around the middle of the label (they tell me it was about 10:30) the phone rang and much to my surprise, a long lost friend was back in Saratoga Springs from her travels to “where and when ever” she pleased. There was nothing stopping me from seeing Jesse, but no one was sober enough to drive (I didn’t even have a car at the time) and it was -10 degrees. I’ll Hitchhike!

This was not my most brilliant moment.

There was one person sober at the party who was bored and ready to go, it seemed she lived at the bottom of the mountain closer to I-87 which would cover about 30 minutes of the normally 3 hour commute. She had her own party to get to two doors away from where she lived and offered me a ride at least that far. On went the jacket, in my backpack went the Jim Beam, and we were off. If I could remember her name, I would thank her now, she tried like hell to prevent my hitchhiking attempt, but it just wasn’t working. Upon our arrival at the base of the mountain, our good Samaritan intentionally hid my bottle and tried to get me drunk enough to pass out with keg stands. It nearly worked.

Half awake and fully cocked in a bed with about four other people (no, nothing dirty) generally being drunk and stupid I caught a second wind, grabbed my jacket and found my bottle. One AM or so now, I open the door and felt the cold air instantly tighten my skin like a shrinking rubber band, the fact that it was -10 F had somehow slipped my mind. After 3/4 bottle of Jim Beam, several keg stands, and miscellaneous opaque bottled beers the part of your brain that is afraid of death shuts off, while the remainder acts like Homer Simpson chasing a donut.

After about 2 miles, it was too late to turn back. At this time everyone at the party was asleep, and there was no way to call anyone else. Onward HO! At about 2.25 miles I was jumping up and down at any car that passed hoping that if they wouldn’t stop, they would at least call the police… I knew I was going to die on that stretch of road, alone.

Coyotes are funny creatures, as long as you don’t bother their den, they will leave you alone. They will however, circle and or follow you until they think you are well out of range, they stayed with me about 200 yards out, in the woods for almost an hour. The scene was the inverse of a classic movie desert scene, my desert was snow and my vultures were coyotes. Looking back, I can’t believe I am alive to tell this story.

My jacket was about a half size too big for me, and the style at the time left snowboard jackets ending about mid thigh. The only thing that kept me alive was that Burton Universe jacket. I pulled in my arms, lifted it up over my head and zipped my entire upper torso into the jacket. As cars passed I would scramble to pull my arms and head out of the jacket like a turtle and wave for a ride like a madman. When my psychotic gestures were ignored, back in my Burton “turtle shell” I went. Jumping up and down, running in place, and rubbing your arms generates warmth when your are inside that jacket. Enough warmth it seems, to have kept me alive.

In the end somewhere in the neighborhood of exit 27 or exit 26 on southbound I-87 a New York State Trooper picked me up, Jim Beam still in tow, and delivered my sorry, frozen, nearly dead body to a truck stop with a phone. Someone in Saratoga was awake, thankfully. While I awaited my rescue with my new truck stop friends, my body slowly regained all of its feeling.

I haven’t since, and will not ever wear another jacket that isn’t produced by Burton Snowboards. That Universe jacket, is the only reason I am alive after an act of such incredible stupidity. I have also done a quick review on my current Burton lifesaver, the AK Stagger 2L.

Note: Apologies on the image quality, it’s the best Burton could find from their archives.

[Image © Burton Snowboards]