I know this topic is a little played out, but I just had to say a word.
Ah, bumps. If you love to just hang back on the groomers all day and lay blazing trenches at high speeds, you'll understand the attraction that bumps hold for some people. Just as watching someone lay railroad tracks in the snow from the lift can be a sight to see, watching someone ski the bumps with absolute mastery is like witnessing poetry in motion or, in some cases, like watching Spiderman websling his way through the Manhattan Jungle. After watching several skiers finesse the bumps, your envy turns into grim determination and you submit to countless beatings at the hands of the little pimples. Then, you seek out help and wisdom, looking for ways to free the rhythm, fluidity, and poetry that the bumps have thus far denied you. Slowly and earnestly, you start to feel it in little passing flashes at first and then more consistently; the cadence, the near-acrobatic movements of your feet and your entire body, the feeling of being truly centered and, dare I say, a sense of enlightenment.
And with that, the mountain reveals more of itself to you. More of her secrets are known and you begin to see subtle shades of her that did not grab you before. Like a new lover, more layers of her personality come into play. Things that you didn't notice before, yet as they bubble up to the surface, they mesh with the elements of her personality to make her even more alluring and soon, you can't get enough.
That, my friends, is why I like to ski bumps and why I work on 'em whenever I get the chance.