Pay for Everything, Get Nothing: Our Jay Peak Resort Experience

Oh, where do I begin? If you’ve been desperately seeking a vacation spot that masterfully combines disappointment, dehydration, and the creeping suspicion that you may have made a mistake, look no further. Jay Peak ski resort has truly perfected the art of charging luxury cruise ship amenity pricing for the privilege of….. getting pretty much nothing.

Let’s start with the check-in process, which doubles as a psychological experiment. Guests are invited to show up at the designated checking areas, only to find out they decided to change it. Now it’s time to wander a maze of buildings across a vast campus, each one offering the faintest glimmer of hope and the crushing reality of “Nope, not here.” Spoiler alert: the only building that actually is check-in? Yeah—it’s the only one that doesn’t have a single sign. Not a number, not a logo, not even a sad little welcome mat. Just an unassuming portal to your upcoming disillusionment.

And once you finally crack the code and get to the front desk? Oh, don’t worry—they’re in no rush. You’ll be gently reminded not to check in before 5pm. You know, 5pm—the time when everything on the property closes. Ice skating? Nope. Rock climbing? Shut down. Arcade? Don’t make me laugh. Clearly, they want you to take it easy—very easy. So easy, in fact, you won’t actually do anything on this vacation.

Dinner? Ah yes, the one single restaurant that remains open, where you’ll enjoy a long, long meditative wait (think DMV meets rustic chic) to reflect on your dwindling expectations. Then it’s off to bed, where you can rest up for the real challenge: finding coffee in the morning.

We woke bright-eyed (okay, not really) and ready for caffeine—only to discover that the resort is deeply committed to keeping guests as uncaffeinated as humanly possible. Every single opportunity for coffee? Extinguished like a love lost.

One spot in particular really got our hopes up: “Buddy’s Mug Coffee Shop.” Sounds promising, right? The name alone whispers, “Come in, friend, we’ve got hot java and good vibes.” But guess what? Absolutely no coffee. You know why? Because they were CLOSED. Not temporarily. Not “back in five.” Just closed.

No problem though, right? Because by the time we figured it out, it was after noon—and that means espresso martini time at the bar! Except… enter our bartender. A true icon. A raging thunder cunt in the most textbook sense—equal parts apathetic, irritated, and openly hostile toward anything resembling a drink order. She let us know, without an ounce of apology, that she would only be making drinks with two ingredients or less. Salt on your margarita? Absolutely not. “Salt doesn’t stick to plastic cups,” she snarled, as if I’d just asked her to split an atom.

Defeated, we made our way to the waterpark snack shack in search of something—anything—edible. And what a treat: we were greeted by a dedicated employee who bravely showed up to serve heat lamp culinary cuisine with what appeared to be a full-blown case of pink eye. Nothing says “bon appétit” like an oozy, red stare and a tray of desiccated heat lamp nuggets.

And if all that wasn’t enough, the staff was more than happy to remind us—constantly—that we were just plain foolish for coming during the “off-season.” You know, off-season—that magical time when it’s literally snowing and half the country is on spring break. Silly us for thinking that a ski resort in the middle of snowfall might actually be… operating. Apparently, we missed the memo that their definition of “off-season” just means “we don’t feel like doing anything right now, and it’s your fault for being here.”

In the end, if you’re looking to spend all-inclusive money on a resort that offers no real excursions, no available activities, no caffeine, and no joy, Jay Peak has you covered. Come for the confusion, stay for the pink eye. Five stars. Would not return.