Preserving Liquid Treats on Blizzard Peaks

By John Andrew Carter, Jr. aka Killer J.A.C.

Up on the mountain high above the Après Ski, the blizzard rolled in like a freight train. Mesmerizing snowflakes turned the landscape into a winter wonderland filled with the freshest powder. There I was, somewhere in the dense backcountry way off the trail, watching the iciest of storms crest over the peak. 

Stranded, frozen, and on the brink of hypothermia, my breath billowed out of my icy nostrils— but with no service and 1% battery, I would have to endure the elements on my own. Each bone-chilling gust of wind seeped through my every layer. My body kicked into survival mode and questions swirled in my head:

• How will I get down to the Après-Ski before the DJ set starts?
• Is this the universe’s way of reminding me to call my mom more often?
• Do abominable snowmen actually exist, and if so, are they friendly?
• Why didn’t I watch more episodes of Pimp my Ride on MTV?
• Would a snow angel serve as an SOS if I got down in the snow and made one?

That’s the exact moment when my stomach growled. Instead of an emergency granola bar, I had packed 6 cans of Miller High Life. FAR OUT! 

Then reality set in: I was fully reliant on the caloric intake from a meager stash of slightly-alcoholic beverages to get me back to the loge. But in this bleak scene of winter desperation, an unexpected hero emerged out of my 32 jacket pockets. More useful than a Swiss Army Knife, I had a Killer Koozy.

Out on the mountain, heat preservation is key. In these polar conditions, liquids turn to ice faster than you can say "cowabunga”. But this time I was prepared— I slipped that neoprene wonder around the first can, and voilà, I had a hand warmer and lifeline. Frostbite is no joke, and my phalanges were in danger of turning into flesh-flavored popsicles. Shielded from the frosty embrace of the drink container, my hands were intact. Take THAT Jack Frost! Plus, my precious cans remained refreshingly liquid and not frozen, providing much-needed hydration (and a buzz) in this frozen hellscape.

Designed and manufactured in the most neon of colors, my Killer Koozy was a first-class ticket to being spotted by Ski Patrol out there. My movements were regimented— take a drink and then raise my Koozy high in the sky, signaling distress in the blizzard's blinding fury. Rescue was just a sip away!

I finished my High Lifes but I didn't stash away my Koozy just yet – after poundin’ ‘em down, I had one more trick up my sleeve: a Koozy as an improvised insulator and fortress of warmth for smaller essentials like my iPhone. The Koozy held back the relentless cold from my dying cell phone, extending its life just enough to get me down to the party. 

Keepin’ on keepin’ on my downhill path, I began to feel a sensation— the icy groove of a bassline started echoing through the snow-capped mountains. Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light. My head grew heavy and my sight grew thin, I had to stop for the night. In the doorway of the Après Ski, the beats dropped and the crowd swayed in a synchrony in the alpine air. The flashing neon lights and spectacle of lasers slicing through the air had me emotional after a long bout with the blizzard. I danced around with my Koozy wrapped around fresh brews as a badge of honor, a testament of survival. 

All in all, when the odds are stacked against you and survival seems like a distant dream, don't discount a Killer Koozy. A relentless survival tool apt out in the dire straits, Killer Koozys are a beacon of hope, a versatile lifeline maintaining both hydration and warmth amidst the unforgiving embrace of winter. Let’s party.