People.  Listen:  So there I was at the Bird on Sat.  The "snow" was bulletproof.  Boilerplate.  Cement.  Even if I hadn't been too lazy to sharpen my edges, I don't think it would have made a difference.  Ice.  My buddy didn't even bother with poles that day-- no use-- because you couldn't even penetrate the rock-hard white stuff we were sliding and scraping down, trying to make turns.  Okay, so maybe I'm a spoiled Utah skier, but seriously, something must be done.