Steamboat Pilot & Today

Steamboat Springs — I thought I had a foolproof idea for this week's column.

But it fizzled out in a crowd of well-mannered colleagues, and now I'm really desperate.

The plan was to show up at the company Christmas party Sunday night, wait for somebody to misbehave and then write about it in the next morning's newspaper.

I was going to be Ebeneezer Scrooge watching for old Bobby Cratchett to make a misstep.

With almost 90 people indicating they intended to show up for the free feast, I reasoned that someone was sure to have too many martinis, flirt with the wrong spouse and get their favorite holiday necktie unceremoniously dunked in the spinach dip.

It was going to be a righteously good holiday column, but it never happened.

Nobody drank too much. As best I could ascertain, nobody even insulted anybody and that's almost impossible in a crowd of newspaper hacks.

Everybody was well groomed.

I wasn't told a single off-color joke.

I'm getting too old to even notice if anybody is flirting with anybody.

Heck, I don't think anybody at the party even had bad breath.

How am I supposed to write a titillating Monday column when none of my coworkers is willing to cooperate?

Bah humbug. Forget those clowns.

Now I find myself reduced to that time honored tradition observed by desperate columnists everywhere rewriting the lyrics to "the Twelve Days of Christmas" on deadline, just to fill page two in the Monday paper.

I know you can recall the song: "On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...

A partridge in a pear tree.

On the second day of Christmas blah, blah, blah."

Can you imagine how bitterly disappointed you would be if your true love actually gave you a partridge for Christmas instead of new ski boots?

I'm thinkin' that relationship is going to last as long as eight inches of untracked 'der on Heavenly Daze.

Obviously, the old verses need to be adapted to fit the Yampa Valley (and if you are reading this while riding up the gondola on a powder morning), feel free to sing out at the top of your lungs):

On the first day of Christmas, my valley gave to me ... a bark beetle in a spruce tree.

On the second day of Christmas, my valley gave to me ... two water districts, and a bark beetle in a spruce tree.

On the third day of Christmas, my valley gave to me ... three gravel pits, two water districts and a bark beetle in a spruce tree.

On the fourth day of Christmas, my valley gave to me, four studded tires, three gravel pits, two water districts and a bark beetle in a spruce tree.

On the fifth day of Christmas, my valley gave to me, five affordable homes ... four studded tires, three gravel pits, two water districts and a bark beetle in a spruce tree.

On the sixth day of Christmas, my valley gave to me, six String Cheese Incidents, five affordable homes ... four studded tires, three gravel pits, two water districts and a bark beetle in a spruce tree.

On the seventh day of Christmas, my valley gave to me, seven feet of powder, six String Cheese Incidents, five affordable homes ... four studded tires, three gravel pits, two water districts and a bark beetle in a spruce tree.

On the eighth day of Christmas, my valley gave to me, eight flights from Houston, seven feet of powder, six String Cheese Incidents, five affordable homes ... four studded tires, three gravel pits, two water districts and a bark beetle in a spruce tree.

Are you still with me?

On the ninth day of Christmas, my valley gave to me, nine elk a wastin', eight flights from Houston, seven feet of powder, six String Cheese Incidents, five affordable homes ... four studded tires, three gravel pits, two water districts and a bark beetle in a spruce tree.

On the tenth day of Christmas, my valley gave to me, ten snowmobilers, nine elk a wastin', eight flights from Houston, seven feet of powder, six String Cheese Incidents, five affordable homes ... four studded tires, three gravel pits, two water districts and a bark beetle in a spruce tree.

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my valley gave to me, eleven forest firefighters, ten snowmobilers, nine elk a wastin', eight flights from Houston, seven feet of powder, six String Cheese Incidents, five affordable homes ... four studded tires, three gravel pits, two water districts and a bark beetle in a spruce tree.

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my valley gave to me, twelve Triple Crowners, eleven forest firefighters, ten snowmobilers, nine elk a wastin', eight flights from Houston, seven feet of powder, six String Cheese Incidents, five affordable homes ... four studded tires, three gravel pits, two water districts and a bark beetle in a spruce tree.

Happy holidays everyone, and remember, Santa knows if you've been good or bad ... so be good for goodness sake.

Tom Ross is a longtime Steamboat resident. His

column is published every Monday in the Steamboat Today.