A Funny Thing Happened . . .

A Funny Thing Happened the Other Day  . . . at The Ski Hill

I have not been skiing since my grade 7 school field trip.  I remember doing the hour and a half ski lesson and them being set loose on Mount Everest.  At least that’s what the Devil’s Elbow near Peterborough looked like to me.  I had no snow pants ( I was waaayyyy to cool to wear those), no googles (Nerds wore goggles), no helmet (nobody did) and worst of all, no skill.  I remember having some spectacular wipe-outs.  I would go flying through the air and I could hear the people on the ski lift ooing and ahhing as I flipped end over end down the hill.  One friend kindly noted that I, “fell just like a professional”.  She meant the skiers you see wipe out during the World Championships on tv, when skiers crash through safety fencing in a big ball of snow and flying body parts.  Great.

Needless to say, I was in no hurry to get back on the ski hill.  Until recently.  For a couple of years I have been thinking of trying again.  I wanted to get out and enjoy winter.  Find a winter sport that would be fun and exciting and get me off the couch in January.  In retrospect, maybe bird watching was the way to go, but hindsight is always 20/20 isn’t it.  Well, this year I finally got my chance to see if I remembered anything from that 7^th grade ski class.  One day in February my friend Jenn called me up and said, “I’ve got two night skiing passes for Saturday night.  Wanna go?”  Hell yes!  Outside, in winter, at night, getting exercise.  Sounded great.  Jenn’s been skiing for a couple of years, so I figure she can show me some things.  Maybe I won’t look like a newbie loser.  What the worst thing that could happen, I fall?  Been there, done that.  No probs.

Now this time around, I didn’t let my vanity get the better of me.  I pulled out my snow pants.  I bought them about four years ago and never wore them because they are about 7 inches too long for my short little legs.  They are also very puffy and make me look like an enormous blue marshmallow.  When I added my puffy winter coat I could barely squeeze myself into Jenn’s van.  But, I thought, comfort before appearance.

We arrived at the ski hill and got my rental skis and poles.  Jenn had brought me her son’s helmet and goggles.  So there I was in all my gear, just like everybody else.  Now, there is no way I could be confused with some perky snow bunny, but at least I didn’t stick out.  I was rearing to go.  Until just after my first ten steps in my ski boots.  Um.  Someone, (Jenn), might have warned me that walking with ski boots on is a torture comparable to having a leg sawed off on a civil war battlefield.  Holy Ef!  I hadn’t even got on the hill yet and I was ready to go home.  Ef this!   Who the Ef needs to be outdoors in the winter?  Winter is for curling up on the couch with a good trashy romance novel and a bottle of scotch.  This was torture!  Finally we made it to the area were we could put on our skis.   As I looked back over the 12 loooonngggg feet we have just traversed, I really wasn’t sure I had this in me, but, it turns out, once the skis are on things are much better.  Whew!

First up was the bunny hill.  Jenn wanted to make sure I wouldn’t kill myself on a green run so we tested out what I remember from 7^th grade first.  One thing I had never experienced before was a tow rope.  This amusing little torture device is someone’s brilliant, (CHEAP), idea for getting kids, (who are too young to sue,) up the bunny hill as quickly, (and violently,) as possible.  It is a thick rope that loops up the hill and back down and is pulled along by a motor.  You straighten your skis, bend your knees and grab onto the rope, at which time your arms will be yanked out of your shoulder sockets and you will be whipped up the hill at alarming speed until you reach the top and pry your fingers off the rope.  Failure to keep your skis straight will result in you be flipped over a dragged up the hill on your ass.  Failure to keep from screaming like a baby will make all the kids on the hill point and laugh at you.

Turns out I remembered lots from the 7^th grade.   I whipped down that bunny hill like a jack rabbit on crack!  I remembered the swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, thing and how to snow-plow and everything!  I was ready for the black diamond run!  But Jenn said no.  Party pooper.  We did hit the green runs though, which looked positively enormous to me.  They were quite steep and it was very icy.  Very Icy.  And in case I ran out of things or people to run into, there were ski lift pillars all the way down the hill.  But, I did great!  There were a few scary moments, like when the hill suddenly plummeted in to a really steep part, or my skies flew across ice, but I did it.  Yeah!  Let’s do that again!  The second time down I went much faster.  I knew what to expect.  I even beat Jenn down the hill by like a minute and a half!  She did this leisurely swoosh, swoosh down the hill.  Me?  I raced down that hill like I was escaping the Zombie Apocalypse!  I was jazzed!  I felt confident, like a real skier!  Maybe I should have reigned myself in a bit, but no!  It was full speed ahead for me!  Blue runs up next.

Again I was amazed by my own skill.  Wow!  I am on fire!  At one point Jenn and I had a mix up at the ski lift and I ended up riding up with a strange fella, who turned out to be on the ski patrol.  I explained to him that this was my first time skinning since the 7^th grade.  He was polite enough not to comment on just how long ago that must have been.  I told him I was doing pretty good, but, I said jokingly, he may want to keep near me tonight, because I was eyeing up that black diamond run, and I might need him later.  Ha ha.

After a few more amazing turns on the blue run, I finally talked Jenn in to the Black Diamond.  She did not think this was a good idea, but I was going anyway (just try and stop me), and I figured she should go too so that if anything happened she could ski around and pick up the pieces of me from all over the mountain if need be.  First run down was a smashing success.  It gets a little steep there near the bottom and it was very icy.  A couple of times I thought maybe I had made a bad decision, but I made it down and was basking in my own success  when Jenn leisurely swooshed down a couple of minutes behind me.  I was like a little kid.  “Please, please, please Jenn.  Please can we go again, pleaseeeeeee?”   Second time down and I was thinking of trying out for the Olympic team! 

The third time down.  Well, let just say I won’t be in the next Olympics.  Things were going great, until I hit the lower part of that damn icy hill.  That when . . .

Oh, there’s the dryer.  Gotta go do my day job.  Sorry, but we are all on our last pair of undies.  If I don’t get that laundry done, we’ll be turning these one inside out and wearing them again tomorrow.  I’ll finish this story later.  Stay tuned for Part Two!