After a few brave hours on the Jackson Hole hills, I finally defected from my winsome but indefatigable group of snow boarders.
I dropped my skis, lumbering on unbuckled boots into the Four Seasons' Handle Bar. Their extensive whisky menu was too overwhelming at the time, but looked first-class. An attentive and friendly server directed me to a whisky-based seasonal cocktail.
I smugly sipped, thinking of the guys bombing down the hill, cold...and sober.