You wake up at the crack of noon, cruise up to the hill ready to ride, but before you can make it to the main parking lot, foiled. The baricade. A few under-payed parking lot attendants, a truck, some orange cones, and the dreaded sign: lot full.  The friendly attendants insist you must turn into the remote lot, the one that requires a ride on a bus full of weekend warriors who can't possibly walk by you without bumping you with every piece of their equipment. The worst part, when you finally make it to the parking lot, there are tons of empty spots. If you've ever been snowboarding on…