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Posted to r.m.h on Sun, 27 Jan 1999
Dennis Peterson wrote:
I didn't go to the train station or to work that night and I still got a
little headache this morning (much worse if I shake my head).
I'm not real sure I'm cut out for this snow skiing shit. I'm pretty
sure I'm not getting the hang of it yet. So far, it ain't one of my
favorite sports.
After an hour and a half lesson, on the flat ground, and another hour
practicing I decided I was ready to ride the ski lift up the mountain
for some leisurely "shushing" (ski talk) back down to the lodge for a
little refreshment. I was doing really good with my snow plowing
(another ski term) to kind of slowly turn and stop and was assured that
I had the basics down pat.
It was a nice snowy day on the mountain and it was hard to see exactly
where the end of the chairlift was due to the snow, but the map said the
Green Trail was at the top of the lift to the right and I figured it
would be pretty easy to find when I got off.
The ski lift was a *lot* longer than I thought it was. It went WAY up
that fuckin' mountain! This Southern Boy damned near needed oxygen when
I got to the end of that sumbitch, where I found that "gettin' off the
fuckin' ski lift" was not covered in ground school. I promptly fall
flat on my ass when I leave the chair and am laying there in a tangled
heap of ski equipment as other folks are trying to gracefully dismount.
My only option, at this point, being crawling out of their way.
The lift fall was probably an omen, but since we covered "standing back
up" in Ski School I missed the message and righted myself. After
brushing the snow off I headed for the trailhead.
Six feet down the mountain was as far as my one and a half hour of Ski
School took me! As soon as I hit the first bump and those skis went
parallel I was haulin' ass down that mountain like I had a Scud up my
ass!!! All that "snow plowin', slow turnin'" shit was completely gone,
I was now just a straight down, screaming, black streak that only had
one way to stop and it's not pretty when it happens. BAM!!! I stop.
I figured I'd fall so I kind of shake it off, gather my shit and vow to
be a little bit more careful, 'cuz this shit could get potentially
painful. Digging the snow out of my ears and Official Harley Davidson
Ski Pants, I try and recall all the stuff about putting the ski's back
on from the side of the mountain. After about ten minutes of dancing
and cussing I get the last binder clipped and go only two feet this time
before I again go into my impression of an unguided missile. I hit the
mountain at a velocity to cause a small avalanche. Lost both skis, and
my glasses this time around and have ten pounds of snow up my bomber
jacket back. I think this is where the first bit of punch drunkenness
started to set in, because I still had a flicker of hope of eventually
making it down the mountain alive and in one piece.
My next, and most spectacular, crash was after my longest and fastest
unguided straight shot down the mountain and I'm not real sure what
happened. Patty observed it out of the lodge window while having a cup
of coffee and said "It just looked like a black streak that disappeared
in a big white cloud of snow. It was cool". All I remember was hitting
the snow at about a hundred miles an hour, with my face, then waking up
to some little 9 year old kid saying " You OK mister?" I was not OK,
but the little bastard just skied off with a wave. I can't remember the
last time I hit my head that fuckin' hard. Blows to the head are
another thing that take longer to recover from when we get older. I had
a hell of a headache and everything I took up the mountain, except my
clothes, was scattered up the mountain for about twenty yards (ski term
= Yard Sale). My glasses are now unusable and I don't know what day it
is anymore. I now pray for last rites as it's starting to look doubtful
I'm going to make it after all. With about a hundred and fifty yards to
go and no way down the rest of the mountain except ski or the Ski Patrol
snowmobile I decide on death before dishonor and plan one last straight
shot culminating in a *planned* "Agony of Defeat" to within walking
distance of the Rental Shop, turn in the shit I still got and put an end
to this madness. The last crash was a little better (you can see I
delirious now) and I tell Patty that I'm ready to call it a day. She
takes pity on me and carries the ski's to the Rental Shop while I limp
behind. Just as I see the light at the end of the tunnel I forget I
have solid, heavy, ridged plastic boots on and try to walk down a flight
of wet stairs. My feet came out from under me and I ass and elbow bump
down to the Rental Shop floor amid a crowd waiting in line. A perfect
way to end the day.....
The train station and work were out the next day as I was in a semi
comatose, drug induced state in front of the TV thinking about all the
stuff I'm going to do different the next time I go.
Or I could just have Patty hit me in the face with a shovel and save
myself a little money.
Sure will be glad when the weather gets warmer and I can start going
riding again. This Winter Wonderland shit up here in the Pacific
Northwest could possibly kill my dumb ass!
Hoppy |