The World's Greatest New Year's

Well here we are ladies and gentlemen, (now only 2 years away from an impending apocalypse!) in the year '010. I'm sure a lot of you went out and had yourselves a merry ol' time on New Year's, whether it be with friends, family, or a squadron of unusually friendly Hell's Angels who just happened to be going to the same U2 concert as you when your moped stalled out on Rt. 41. Now I'm willing to bet that a lot of you had a fantastic night, and those who celebrated with particular fervor might call it "the best New Year's ever." I would like to argue, however, that no matter how many strangers you managed to fall in love with while the ball was dropping in Times Square, your New Year's could not possibly be the world's greatest. This is not to insult the awesomosity of your night, but instead because only one person in the world can actually have quote-unquote, the best New Year's ever, and this lucky man was none other than my cousin, who's actual name will not be revealed for his own protection for his own protection. Why does he need this protection you ask? It's all part of the World's Greatest New Year's... ever.

It all began on New Year's Day when Timothy Treadswell decided to head up to Mt. Pachusett, the local skiing and snowboarding hot spot, and try out some of the new gear he had received for Christmas only weeks earlier. Timothy had been snowboarding for about 7 years now, and in many countries was considered something of an icon for the sport. Wading through crowds of adoring fans including many teenage girls who had abandoned the nearby "Win a Date with Robert Pattinson" booth to flock to Mr. Treadswell with the hopes of maybe catching a passing glance of his snowboard owning visage. Managing to work through the fans with the assistance of his detail of ex-secret service agents, Timothy Treadswell made his way to the ski lift and headed straight to the most difficult trail the mountain had to offer, The Smithe Waldon, or as it was known to the locals, The Smithe "Oh My Sweet, Sweet Mother Mary Why On Earth Did I Do This, I Wish I Could Call My Friends And Family Right Now To Give Away My Most Prized Possessions, Holy Balls Is That Seriously A Snowboarding Bear!?! Why God, Why?" Waldon. Tim had heard the names, and couldn't deny that he was a little bit apprehensive. Later recalling the events about to unfold he admitted that he might not have attempted the trail if not for the fact that a few teenage punks had managed to take over the Mountain's public address system and were broadcasting The Immigrant Song at full blast. With this burst of hard rocking courage, our hero began his decent right down the snowy white mountain face of danger.

After nailing a triple 1080, a 360 varial mctwist, and successfully grabbing enough air to undo his bindings, disassemble his snowboard, reassemble it as a working helicopter pack, hover for about 30 yards, rebuild the board and stick the landing, Timothy Treadswell was feeling pretty confident in his snowboarding abilities. But just as he thought to himself "This trail is nothing compared to that time I tackled Mt. Olympus," he heard a sound behind him, bellowing over the Led Zeppelin, that shook him to the core. As he looked over his shoulder to prove that that noise wasn't what it sounded like, he realized that it was, in fact, exactly what it sounded like.

Timothy didn't stop to ask himself where the Bear had learned to snowboard. That wasn't as important as making it down this mountain alive. The beast's size worked like a pine wood derby weight and caused him to blast down the slope far faster than Tim could hope to move. Thinking fast, he realized that outmaneuvering the Bear wasn't an option. He would have to fight. Waiting for the Bear to approach, Timothy managed to undo one of his bindings while maintaining his speed on the board, a skill he had picked up while riding with Vladamir Putin on the slopes of the USSR. When the Ursa-Major-pain-in-the-neck was within striking distance, Tim lashed out with a swift kick to the beast's knee. But this Bear was good. Real good. It kept it's balance and swept its mighty paw at Timothy's face, successfully lacerating his face but not throwing off his balance. Tim saw his time to strike as the Bear recovered from his own swipe and launched his fist into the Bear's lower back with a well placed kidney shot. The monster doubled over in pain, and Tim was certain he had won. Looking up at the only rider to ever defeat him as he struggled to keep his balance, the beast made eye contact with his foe and said through his coughs riddled with blood and pieces of other riders not as skilled as Timothy Treadswell, "It's not over," and with his last breath, threw himself to the ground in front of Tim's board.

Shocked and confused by the Bear's dying words as well as the 7' 11" creature now in his path Timothy wasn't able to think clearly enough to see and avoid the tree on his right. Crashing into the mighty oak with a thunderous boom that caused avalanches on every mountain in a 35 mile radius, Timothy Treadswell laid in the fresh powder and drifted out of consciousness while the rescue crews sped to his location. He had broken a leg and a couple of ribs, along with scratch on his face to prove to the world why Winny the Pooh is a dirty lie.The last thing he would remember of the encounter was the Bear's ominous warning and the look of conviction in the eyes of the creature that seemed to tell Tim that the rest of his life would be spent hiding from the family of the Bear he had slain that day.

The value of one's New Year is not measured in fun had or in kisses stolen, but in the sheer electricity of the story that can be told on January 2. With this criteria in mind it is clear that my cousin, Timothy Treadswell, had the World's Greatest New Year's. I will say again that the names have been changed to protect the parties involved from a pending attack from the Bear Mafia, but while the names and places have been altered, the events told are abso-freaking-lutely true. Don't ask ol' Timmy to tell you the story though, he's far too modest to tell you what really happened. You'll only hear the real tale right here, in all of its tall, tall splendor.