Padraig put his cellphone down and peered out of the windshielf of his Wrangler. He was glad of its 4-wheel-drive and snow-tires. His bag and board were in the back and he had on his snowsuit. The competition was off due to the weather. "Well no shit." He murmurs to no one, as he was traveling alone. The boarding would be great tomorrow, of course, with the amount of snow that was pouring out of the sky right now and covering everything. Major air would also result in soft landings. He was already stoked. But now he needed somewhere to hole up for the remainder of the storm.<br/><br/>The Honeypot Lodge, an odd name for a place up in the mountains, stared back at him. It had vacancy lit up so he put his Jeep in park, grabbed his board and bag, and waded through snow that was already knee deep in the parking lot to the front door. He pulled it open and stepped inside, stamping his feet to shake the snow off of him. Padraig looked around and saw some beautiful women who apparently worked here. SO maybe that is why it was called the honeypot....of course, he didn't know it was the local whorehouse.<br/><br/>