Twenty Minutes from Home

By Hayden Mellsop

Twenty minutes from home is a ski area I sometimes go to. Leaving town, I drive up into the mountains, from sunshine into clouds and a whole other world. It’s not a particularly fashionable resort. The parking lot is small and full of tattered Toyotas and sticker-clad Subarus. The lifts aren’t heated and are kind of slow, and sometimes they break down. Chances are you won’t share a chair with someone who is followed on Twitter, but that’s why I like it.

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