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The Phantogram concert in Salt Lake City: vibes were high and so was much of the crowd that had gathered at the venue to see these guys crush it on stage. They totally did, but thats not what this is about. It was the third song of the set when I found myself separated from my group. It was okay because I was the only one without a date. I found myself lone wolfing it, roaming around, jamming to my favorite band with a big grin, plotting how I was to get closer to the stage. I looked to my right, there were people and walls, much like every other direction I could have looked because, hey, I'm at an indoor concert and those are the kinds of things we see at these events. I looked left, scanning the crowd, hey theres some more people, oh hey theres the sound booth. Thats when I saw... IT. What was this skinny jean and leather coat wearing, ginger macklemore haircutted thing? It was him, the flying tomato, the mainstream god of one plank shralping. I knew what I needed to do, but I also knew patience would be a huge factor, you can't rush things like these or they just wont work. I went back to the show with the goal of getting to the front. A short time later I had made it to the fence, I was experiencing a powerful eargasm and I knew it was time to start thinking. Fast forward to the encore. I knew they would be doing an encore because everyone, including me, was so stoked with the whole show. Halfway through the first song of the encore I was sure it was time to make my move. Working my way through the crowd on a mission felt like one of those war movie scenes when Arnold Shwarzenegger yells, "GET TO THE CHOPPER", and I was making record speed to the chopper. I didn't anticipate the band playing 3 encore songs, but it worked to my advantage because it gave me the chance to study the specimen and think about what I was going to say. Scratch that. Every skier in the right mind would know what to say in that situation and I was no exception. I watched as he danced, dope but casual, I mean duhh, its Shaun Fucking White. Who could be more dope and casual at the same time? I was suddenly wishing I would have bought one of those sick white with black stripes pro model jackets, or those sweet jean style snowpants, but it was too late for regrets. The show ended and people started leaving, I tried to discreetly get his attention because I figured he can't go anywhere without people mobbing him, kind of like how famous jesus was back in his heyday, if you look close, you can see the resemblance. I called out in a controlled tone "Hey Shaun" and that was when it all went to hell. One girl looked over toward my call and her view was intercepted by the one and only Shaun White. She obviously couldn't contain herself and screamed "OH MY GAWDAHH ITS SHAUUUN WHITEEEE!!!!!" and everyone freaked out. Some kids asked if they could get a picture with him and he answered. I knew this was my only chance so I did what I needed to do. I photobombed, because like, "pics or it didn't happen, bro". As he was walking away from the picture I said "HEY SHAUN". He didn't acknowledge me (why would he, he's like a ginger version of god), but he was about 4 feet from me and I was loud enough that I know he heard what I said next. I took a breath, my heart may have skipped a beat but I delivered the line perfectly in what felt like slow motion. "Hey Shaun, HOW ON EARTH ARE YOU PRO IF I'M SO MUCH BETTER THAN YOU?" He didn't look, but I looked right into his eyes and saw some of the godly pro-ness drain from them as they teared up, only a small amount that someone as trained for this moment as I was would notice. Its hard to be sure of exactly what he was thinking, but I'm pretty sure it was something along the lines of "Fuck off, kid". The off could have been replaced with "you" but I'd like to think there are no hard feelings between Shaun and I. I was so excited that I couldn't sleep last night and I'm not really sure about what I should do with my life now that I accomplished this goal. I guess I'll quit skiing to be a swagboarder like Shaun "Jesus" White.
