Grenade Games

    Shredded brain and board last weekend at the Grenade Games.

    This is how I think it all happened.

    Headed to the mountains. Caught word of police checkpoints on way out of town. Passed sign that read: Caution Smoke Ahead. Thought it funny. [Later research revealed the Forest Service was also doing some controlled burning in the area] Was soon surrounded by at least a dozen menacing looking coppers. Saw fellow shreds getting the once over. Thought: Was that a rubber glove? Situation inspired paranoia, even with nothing to hide. Damn this police state. Tried to act cool. Apparently it worked.
    Got to June. Breathed a collective sigh of relief with all the other Grenade gamers. On mountain and familiar turf now. Spirits were high. Party on Wayne.
    Cue psychedelic rock anthem, don rose-colored shades, get on the lift, take the ride.
    There are long hairs everywhere, and boys dressed like bag ladies, and gypsies and rastas and friendly-looking prepubescent gangstars and every other type of misfit, the wild-eyed kids wandered around with snowboards, lawn chairs, fireworks and megaphones, there’s a clown making balloon animals but the animals are shaped like genitalia and beer cozies, and there’s a monkey with a snowboard, a most extreme primate, and someone is passing out stickers with phrases like “Don’t bogart that joint,” “Check out Beaman’s mogul field,” and “Don’t worm my chicks,” imagine they must be backed with blotter paper, and all the gremlins go for them like they’re two dollar bills and they slap ’em on to their boards…
    And in an instant everyone’s part of the propaganda machine, chugging along and everyone is darting in and out of the woods, disappearing and using smoke signals to summon buddies, these great swarms of shreds moving like killer bees down the mountain, maybe more like locust, but everything’s buzzing…
    And the  gnarliest of the lot are jumping over these great gaps in the snow, these gaping maws that look ready to eat the unsuspecting SOB who speed checks, meanwhile, at a ceremony called beefy chopper some start to whirl like dervishes, most in robes as flowy although far more flamboyant, strange scene, then later these same hell bats are racing down the hill hundreds maybe thousands all at once and that’s when the mountain first roared thunder in protests…
    So then we descended, some literally crawling, into the u-ditch for more tweaking and other contests, no, displays of highness…next thing, there’s this gigantic bloodshot eyeball rolling down the half pipe toward all the heathens now laying around like lizards in their respective states of enlightenment, and of course Terry Kidwell is melting everyone’s faces with his amplified axe while Shaun Farmer is howling like a banshee on acid or energy drink (more likely) and then all at once the crowd turns crazy (probably also a result of energy drink) and starts up the hill and before long this maniacal mass is armed with snow balls, ice chunks, half-hot dogs and full beers…
    And they’re winging them at the any one who tries to ride a snowboards without bindings,.. the boarders and boards fight back, firing like missiles into this crowd of savages, somehow though the angry (albeit karmically blessed) mob remains unscathed….
    One board flies away only to come to rest by the barbeque where a hamburger falls flat on the board just as a crow swoops down, snatches burger and the board (apparently adhered with grease) and flies off into the alpen-glowing haze diffused horizon…take mental picture. Think: weird, rad.
     Moral: Grenade games is a trip.

Grenade Games IV 2008 Results:
Chinese Eyed Downhill: Thor Ryen
Zumiez Meat Helicopter: Chas Guldemond
Zumiez Boned Age Award: Kyle Clancy
Boosted Highest Air: Luke Mitrani
Best Mountain Award: June Mountain
Rusty White Best Shred Photog Award: Jeff Curley
Most Radical Dude: Chas Guldemond