Sean Beckwith: I’m gonna sit right down (and write myself a mailbag)

Even if I would’ve offered free beef jerky in exchange for mailbag questions, something tells me the same Aspenites who are seemingly offended by call/response segments at concerts probably would’ve given me the same “Is this guy serious?” response. My current feedback oscillates between “Bite the curb” and “Hell yeah, viva la revolucion.”

I don’t have faith in my readers that they would’ve emailed my questions (nor did I have the foresight to ask). My ESP tells me the only questions submitted would be pranks from Ben like he’s calling in to Mike Francesa. “Hey, Sean, Alex Caruso and Talen Horton-Tucker for Damian Lillard. Who says no? I’ll hang up and listen.”

So, in order to have something publishable to file, I wrote my own mailbag.

Hey Sean, if snowfall was your favorite player, how in denial would you be about his/her decreasing statistics year over year?

This is almost a perfect question, but you just needed to swap favorite player with Nebraska football and statistics with relevance. Like my views on Husker football, I’m as dangerously optimistic as possible with snowfall. The slightest snowflake in the forecast prompts daydreams.

The truth is far more jarring. I’m no longer tuning in every Saturday, beer in hand, ready to live/die by the result because it’s too depressing to center a day around a blowout to Illinois. The amount of times I look out the window to gauge the snowfall with the help of a well-placed streetlamp has decreased just in the decade I’ve lived here.

I hope to God the length of ski seasons doesn’t mirror the falloff of the Husker football program and aren’t past the point of no rejoice. The thought of losing Husker and snowboarding island “Inside Out”-style is beyond heartbreaking.

Do you tier your friends by how hard you want to go in the paint? If so, which Aspen bars are which friends?

Absolutely. I’m going to categorize them like I still see/frequent them.

Zane’s aka the guy who’s fun for like a half: Watching the game at a sports bar seems like a good idea, but after being subjected to standing-only viewing despite having a table with chairs perfectly suitable to watch a Jaguars game you wonder why you didn’t just invite them over to your place and away from the guy passing blow around likes it a baton.

Public House aka it’s just happy hour: Everyone has that friend who you’re so comfortable with that happy hour turns into trying to beat the beer and shot combo record and a subsequent 8 p.m. bedtime.

Eric’s aka I want to watch you do drugs to remind me why I’m somewhat responsible: Spending a few hours in a dark place/with a darker crowd is a reminder that when you amble out to street level, you should opt for the bus over what ever bad decision is behind door No. 2 a.m.

Bootsie Bellows aka that guy who sucks: Like Gregor with too high an opinion of himself and an endless collection of loafers, just avoid it all together.

If I wanted to visit you in Aspen, when is the best time and that includes ski season?

I know this question if made up because people just want to visit over President’s Day weekend. Yes, I get it, you have a three-day weekend but so does everyone but me.

“We’re coming out over (insert holiday here), are you going to be around?” is one of those questions that answers itself. I live in a place where people go to vacation, so chances are the ideal getaway weekends are, shocker, busy at work.

The best times to visit are February because that’s when the snow is pretty consistent and the crowds aren’t. Summer is so underrated. It’s never too hot or too busy. You know when is never busy, though? The offseasons. Come catch some fall colors and wander the streets of Aspen with little to no consequence.

What are the three things you’re going to do once/if COVID ends?

1. I want to go to a concert. I don’t care who’s playing as long as it’s lively enough to get a crowd lathered up/sweaty. Is it weird that I fanaticize about sweating profusely/care-free in a poorly ventilated venue? Hell, I might even crash an Aspen Music School recital with some giggle pig and homie from Eric’s.

2. I would like to go to Spain. I don’t want to go to Mexico where apparently the trade-off for eating street food is dysentery — and I mean that in the most clueless gringo-looking-for-chalupas-in-Cozumel way possible. I want to go to Spain mostly because I have friends there and I’ve never been there. I want my tour guide to be willing to take an hour or two to talk Giants football and why the Mets will always be a second-rate ball club in between swigs of Rioja and bites of jamon.

3. Something as simple as sitting at the sushi bar and chatting with the bartender sounds perfect. Give me the community teapot of soy sauce, a few rolls and a carafe of sake, and I’m as content as a toddler playing with shit that’s “not a toy.” If the bar can’t seat 15, give us a table and a sushi model. I don’t want to eat sushi off some lady, but I want to get to the point beyond the pandemic where the hesitation is over plucking rolls off a naked person and not whether that person has Rona.

Sean Beckwith is a copy editor at The Aspen Times. Email him future mailbag questions at

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