Oh yeah, the X-Games are here and Aspen is hopping with stretch limos and masses of dudes and dudettes walking around town with to go cups in their hands.

When people ask me if we are going to go to the X-Games I wonder what family with boys doesn’t go to watch these incredible athletes perform death-defying tricks.

We drove to the Snowmass intercept lot and were amazed to see how organized everything was as they herded the 30,000 + people into the lot to take the bus up to the venue.

The boys were dressed as if we were heading to the North Pole. The only thing I forgot were the ear plugs to mute the language of the teens who were never told to curtail their vulgarity when innocent children stood nearby.

We held on for dear life as we propelled forward to Buttermilk, a mountain which under normal circumstances is as gentle as it sounds.

It is true that as we locals raise our children in a place where extreme is the norm, we both revere and loathe hosting the X-games in Aspen as it only helps to fuel the minds of our children with delusional aspirations of achieving the insane.

As we walked through the crowd to watch the big air competition I noticed a young man dressed in a bright green lycra suit who couldn’t process, in his hallucinogenic state of mind, that the steps he had just climbed had ended.  I steered the boys away as he kept climbing to a place that I hope my children never attempt to reach.

The boys had a blast racing around grabbing swag and getting a super cool poster of their names written in graffiti from some of the masters who had become famous from their shaky past lives of obscurity.

The Big Air Competition was too surreal for me as I watched Bobbie Brown fly through the air performing his miraculous  Switch Double Pits To Misty 1260 thinking that these athletes are better to watch than superman as they perform their double corks, whiskey flips and rodeo tricks.

I am certain that every contender flies in their sleep, reaching greater heights as they perfect their tricks while creating names like Big Air Jon Olsson’s Switch Hexelfoot 900 and  I feel reassured that Wade and I made the right decision to stave off one more year of freestyle skiing for our boys.