A few inches of fresh snow had already piled up as we waited to board the train, fat flakes melting in our hair and soaking our hats.
I鈥檓 sure Berthoud Pass was getting dicey at that point in the afternoon, and clogged with ski traffic. But on this day, I didn鈥檛 care. The main focus of the moment was the plan my friend and I had just concocted to immediately head to the snack bar upon boarding the Amtrak Winter Park Express instead of going right to our seats.
We figured plenty of other ski train passengers were also ready for happy hour. We were not wrong.
A line of festive people, looking a bit wiped out after seven hours on the slopes but still smiling, had the same idea. One man bought a 12-pack of beer and a flat, the snack bar鈥檚 entire supply, of whiskey shooters for his crew. My friend and I bought almonds and red wine, which we sipped in our seats from cute plastic cups with stems.
The two-hour ride back to Union Station in Denver felt short and relaxing, with our feet out of our ski boots and dusky views of forest and mountains out the window.
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