Wrong again.

We keep getting it wrong here at the Snaz when it comes to Jackson Hole’s Aerial Tram. We thought the tram’s construction would proceed like it did for the first tram, which required far more money and time than original founders Paul McCollister and Alex Morley initially budgeted.

The new tram, which opened officially on Saturday, came in at $31 mil (a 24 percent overrun, probably not that uncommon around here), and was delivered right on schedule.

And we’ll be damned if Blann and Kemmerer didn’t hit it out of the park. After festooning the Village with such log-tumored doozies as the Bridger Center, the Cody House, and the Teton Club, JHMR built a sleek, glass temple in which to house its new favorite machine. Sure, it was sad to watch the old tram building beheaded of its Tyrolean clock tower, but the new building fits the Village better. It looks cooler. Meaner. Like the tram’s crib should.

And appropriately, the tram was delivered to us in full rock star style.

Sailing out of the dark of night on Friday evening, coasting over a thou or two of happy, upturned faces, the tram wore a billowing, silvery smock. The crowd roared. The smock was torn away, and what was left, in the spotlights and driving snowflakes, gleamed like a Millennium Falcon, able to make the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs. Or better. Low-slung and Ferrari Red, the tram just looks fast.

And necessitates all sorts of shifting and tilting platforms at the bottom and top terminals. Were the Swissy Dopplmeisters just trying to impress us with all that, show us that Euros are even more George Lucas than us Yanks? Well, it worked. Jackson Hole just officially joined the 21st century.

Saturday morning’s festivities were more muted, and I was completely off the mark with my predictions about the first public box. But you’ll need to check out Henry Sweet’s article in the upcoming Planet to delve more deeply into that. There will be a few more snazzy photos to accompany Henry’s article, too.

Riding the tram on Saturday was a little anticlimactic because it still goes to the same place, and that place was not that welcoming on Saturday morning. So there wasn’t much ceremony at the top. But there was one little scene that I thought was perfect. As 90-year-old Alex Morley departed the “Owners’ Box,” he stopped right in front of the tramcar in the gusting snow to have his picture taken with son Bruce and grandson Blake. Alex was beaming. (On the way up, he kept saying, “Wow, this is really fast.”) Cameras snapped. Then the tramcar’s doors shut behind them and the platform edge tilted up, cutting them off from their ship. “Oh my, we’re stuck up here,” said Alex. He seemed happy about it, about being allowed to enjoy, for a few extra minutes, the wrathful Wyoming weather and that giant, whirring machine, its predecessor a project that 40 years ago Alex strived mightily to complete. You could tell: though it replaced his, he’s proud of the new tram. As are the Kemmerers. As are all of us.

It’s Big Red. It’s bad ass. And if you’re not from around here, you wish you had something like it.