All right, then. Chase, in about twentieth place, barely keeps his balance as he sidesteps the tangled skis, bodies, and poles. It's called skating, Ole. Welcome to the future. I like my way just fine, thanks.
Chase pushes on ahead.
Chase skitters around the turn at the bottom and disappears. Chase grabs a cup from the girl, chugs it, and ends up spilling half its contents down the front of his suit, now several shades darker on his chest and back with sweat. Maybe two minutes. He throws the cup down and pushes off confidently. Some man tables heaped with date bars, bananas, chocolate chip cookies, brownies.