Snowbombing…
Now then, where do I start..?
I've seen this festival grow from a handful of pissed up, constantly rowing, manchester music officionados in a small hotel lobby in France, to a hugely successful key event in the festival diary which takes over a beautiful village in Austria and plays host to the worlds finest DJ's and bands.
I can say that I have never been on a pair of skis or snowboard in my life, (to be honest, I don't think any insurance company would ridiculously give me a piece of paper to say that they would happily reimuburse me for any injuries, or infact those inflicted on others if a 6 foot bambi on ice came hurtling towards them.) Snowsports is something that will never be on my 'have to do before I die wishlist', yet I still go back year after year, but why?
I will tell you why. There is nothing in the world like Snowbombing. Where can you mix sunshine, snow, ice, boarding, music, dj's, ski-ing, parties every night, austrian oompah cover bands, raves in Igloos, candlelit parties in forests all washed down with lashings of Jagerbombers. At this point, I should talk about 'Jagerbombers', they are the root of all evil and the start of every great night which leads to ridiculous stories.
Jagermeister (for those who don't know, excuse me if you think I am being patronising) is a potent, traditonal, apres-ski liqueur. When mixed with Red Bull, they become 'Jagerbombers'.
There is also a tradition of how to drink these said small doses of Rocket Fuel…
- Place a mini bottle of Jagermeister in a half full glass of Red Bull
- Place Jagermeister between teeth and drink whilst also trying to down the Red Bull at the same time
- Slam the empty glass down on the table
- Place hands behind ears and wave vigorously like a nutter – and then you are off!
One of my favourite stories begins after consuming an embarrassment of Jagerbombers in one of the many apres ski establishments. Somehow I remembered to eat that night, and obviously ended up in Mannis Pizza Restaurant – Mannis is a great cheap pizza restaurant, as you obviously have to keep up your intake of cheese and ham in the austrian alps, with a few German Biers to accompany. After food, my rampage began, I went to see my boyfriend DJ (ex boyfriend now, as you will find out) in The Schlussel, or the rave shack as I call it, where more Jagermeisters were consumed and my memory begins to blur as I gather pace (and fellow revelers) in my quest to do EVERYTHING that Snowbombing has to offer. After dumping my boyfriend behind the decks (he's most happy there), I go to the Sports bar, the Snowbombing HQ and a hive and hub of activity and craziness. The Cuban Brothers were performing live, with their mesmerising mix of break dancing, stripping, more dancing and general nonsense. I don't know what possessed me, but all of a sudden I decided that I wanted to be one of their backing dancers, so I started climbing on the stage, swirling myself around in a haze. I must have got thrown off the stage, as then I remember trotting up the street with a band of merry followers to go for a midnight swim at Mannis Pool – poor old Mannis have seen some crazy behavior in their time, and they have the best (naked) roof top pool ever. So, I am joined in the icy water with lots of random people that I don't know (along with the Cuban Brothers who have finished their set and jump in to get involved). After a lot of thrashing about in the water and 'getting to know each other', we leave there and head towards The Garage.
If you are a night owl or just simply a nutter, The Garage is the place to be, an underground car park, playing host to some great DJ's and amazing debauched after parties. That year it was Back to Basics hosting the party, with dance music meister Dave Beer at the helm along with him gang of party monsters. More Jagermeisters were consumed, and along with Dave Beer, DJ Mylo and a few others we decided to play floor surfing and chair Olympics. After we leave The Garage in the bright cold light of day we head back out onto the main Strass where we bump into some friends who are going up the mountain to board or ski. Now they have been to bed, but we are jealous that they are going to do some sports up the mountain, and feel that it isn't time for our beds just yet, so all aboard the cable car to the top of the mountain where we have hot toddies for breakfast and feel that we should get involved in some 'winter sport' or other. Our winter sport of choice, up their amongst the beautiful air watching our friends shoot down the mountains, is 'Snow leap frog'. We all hop around like complete lunatics getting covered in snow, then dance the afternoon away to the excellent DJ's and the bands on the stages on the slopes.
Then it dawns on me… 'Where is my boyfriend' ? 'Shit, I left him behind the decks in the Schlussel, hours ago…'
It is then time for him to leave me. At Snowbombing. He caught a flight home without me. Without me for good.
I had the best time ever that year, and wouldn't change it for the world.
Snowbombing… The best festival ever… Why wait till Summer?