2004-03-02
SKIING PART TWO, PART ONE
This weekend, Tony visited me in Buffalo for a weekend of skiing et.al. I�d taken Tony skiing for the first time several weeks earlier, and he was immediately hooked. He was the best first time skier I�ve ever seen, and we were excited to have an opportunity to enjoy the best of winter sports again, this time with Tony�s brother John and John�s girlfriend Caryn, with whom John is convinced I share a brain.
Saturday morning, we managed to get out of bed at a reasonable hour and get ready for skiing. Funny, but Caryn and I were ready to go long before our men, thus shattering another stereotype that women take longer in the bathroom.
I was just as excited to don my new ski apparel as I was to hit the slopes. I looked freaking adorable in my gray ski pants and pink jacket with gray fleece lining. Even my headband and gloves matched. I don�t think Tony fully appreciated the importance of fashionable ski attire until I walked into the bedroom to model my ensemble. He took one look at me, smiled and said, �Niiiiiiice!� I admired his new black ski pants as we considered the appropriate number of layers to keep us warm beneath our outerwear. We�d decided on two, which would prove to be too many for a scorching February in Buffalo. We froze our patooties off during our last ski excursion, so we weren�t taking any chances this time. Ah, well. Sweat is preferable to frostbite.
John appeared in the doorway dressed as the Michelin Man. He pulled on the fleece sweatshirt that I stole borrowed from my friend Aaron. Caryn zipped her red jacket and Tony showed us all up by wearing dress shoes for the occasion. I considered trotting to the slopes in my Guess Maxim heels, since we were apparently going to be fancy, but I didn�t want to get salt stains on them, so I stepped into my cheap ass black clogs from Target. I grabbed bottled water, chips and (vegan) cookies for munching, and we were off.
We piled into the car and took care of the necessities...gas, food, caffeine...before heading to the slopes in the southern tier. The weather was cooperating beautifully, which pleased me since the forecast earlier in the week called for rain on Saturday. The sky was a clear robin�s egg blue and I was glad to have my sunglasses in the car. I�m a crazy enough driver; I don�t need glare to compound my crapass driving skills.
On the way to KB, we passed Ralph Wilson Rich Stadium, where the Bills play. Tony and I wondered how we missed seeing it on our last trip to the ski resort. I suppose the fact that I was driving in the slushy snow with no wiper fluid had something to do with that. Tony and John finished each other�s sentences as they discussed football. What Caryn and I heard sounded something like Charlie Brown�s teacher. Still, their excitement is contagious, especially when they�re together. You just can�t help but smile.
We pulled into the parking lot at KB, which was surprisingly full considering the view of the slopes. They were nearly empty. We were giddy. The giddiness was soon replaced by annoyance as we trudged through the muddy lot to the gate, wondering why a place like this wouldn�t have graveled the parking lot, at the very least. Tony and I looked at each other with the Glance of Superiority we like to share when we�re right. Which is most of the time. Strike that. Which is all the time.
We signed up for the first time skier package (again), knowing full well we�d be skipping the lesson. We didn�t need their stinking lessons. Actually, we didn�t have any intention of walking up any freaking hills in our skis again, which is what we had to do at the last lesson. We�d rather develop every bad skiing habit known to man than do the uphill duck walk ever again. Our leg muscles would thank us tomorrow.
John stopped at the pro shop to pick up a pair of goggles, since my twisted pair from seventh grade with no forehead foam left wasn�t quite up to the task. Our lift tickets secured, we headed to the rental shop. We filled out the form, laughed in the face of danger as we declined any and all insurance offered, and signed away. While waiting in line, Tony and John spotted rental helmets on the shelves. Thus began the Great Helmet Debate. They considered the pros and cons of hats vs. helmets. Eventually, helmets won. Would we rush directly to the black diamonds as a result of this decision? No.
Bunny slope it was.
And it was a good thing John had that helmet on, because he was taken out by the J-bar almost immediately. He rode up handletow style, while Tony and I planned our mockery as we securely rode the J-bar like a couple of pros. Never mind that the rest of the people riding up the hill were no taller than 48 inches. At the top of Candy Cane, we applauded John�s J-bar shenanigans and took our first practice run for the day.
I didn�t see it, but Tony wiped out at the top of Candy Cane, and because I didn�t see it, it doesn�t count as an actual fall. Once we finished our thirty second descent down the bunny hill, we headed directly for the triple chair. I should mention that by this time we were perspiring something fierce in the tropics of Glenwood, quietly cursing the second shirt we each donned that morning. The breeze on the chair lift felt deliciously brisk and as we ascended, we noticed the mardi gras beads and undergarments hanging from the tree branches. They weren�t there five weeks ago. The same branches were heavy with freshly fallen, thick snow. The wintry images were entirely different this day, but equally lovely.
At the top, we referred to the map and informed John and Caryn of our intended path. Our first trip downhill was a success and we felt the exciting rush of a well executed ski run. We were ready for more. We continued skiing for quite a while, and then decided to try another area of the resort. We headed for the quad chair. Thus began the first disaster of the day.
A few minutes earlier, Caryn returned to the rental shop to exchange her boots and skis for smaller models. The boots were a perfect fit, but the teenaged mopheads behind the counter neglected to adjust the bindings of the new skis to the boots. As our posteriors hit the cold seats of the quad, Caryn�s ski dislodged and fell to the ground. Amazingly, the rider behind us was able to grab it and hold on to it for the ride up. During the entire ride, we all wondered how Caryn would dismount the quad lift on one ski. We must have looked completely comical getting off that chair lift. Limbs flew in all directions. We hit the ground, rolled and tried to get out of the way of the riders behind us. Hey, if we were going down, we were going down together.
Caryn popped her boots into her skis and we noticed that the boots were sitting at an angle. That�s not right. The boot should fit snugly against the back of the binding. There shouldn�t be any gaps. John and Tony concurred that Caryn�s bindings weren�t properly adjusted when she exchanged them at the shop. The bindings were set for the former boot size, which wasn�t doing us much good at the top of a freaking mountain. If Caryn tried to ski down in improperly fitted bindings, she would surely be injured, possibly seriously. We couldn�t take that chance. Caryn knocked on the door of the lift watcher�s booth, to see if he might be able to assist us with this problem. No such luck. The only other alternative seemed to be riding back down the chair lift, and any skier knows, you just don�t want to be THAT GUY.
This is when I realized I didn�t have to be wearing my Underoos to be Supergirl.
I said, �There�s no way Caryn can ski down this slope on these skis. They need to be readjusted. Hold my poles and I�ll take the skis down the hill, back to the rental shop to be fixed, and I�ll come back up this lift. Wait for me here.�
Everyone looked at me with concern in their eyes. �Are you sure you can do that?�
�Yeah, I can do it. I�ll take a green circle and ease my way down the hill. Give me the skis.�
I took Caryn�s skis in my hand and headed down the shuttle toward the runs at South. I stopped at the location where the triple chair lets off, and surveyed my options. I could take Mistletoe all the way down, but I haven�t skied that run in a number of years, and it�s a blue square, anyway. I didn�t want to take the chance on unfamiliar terrain with a pair of 138s under my arms. I decided to go to Twinkle, a green circle. Halfway to Twinkle on the shuttle, I changed my mind. I didn�t want to lose momentum on the shuttle that leads from Twinkle to the foot of Mistletoe while holding Caryn�s skis, because that would just suck. Trudging the shuttle is bad enough without carrying cargo. Instinctively, I turned into Hemlock Branch, a blue square. I was a bit nervous because I was familiar with this run and its many twists and turns. I braced myself, tucked the skis under my arms firmly, and started to ski down.
Slowly and deliberately I turned. Small patches of ice appeared as I scanned the path several yards in advance. I avoided them successfully. As I turned off Hemlock Branch onto the shuttle, I knew I was golden. I headed down Mistletoe with my skis pointed straight ahead, picking up enough speed to take me directly to the rental shop door. It took me longer to take off my own skis without poles to unhook the bindings than it did to ski the run.
John and Tony�s assessment of the misadjusted bindings was indeed correct, and the teenage mopheads fixed the problem in seconds. They apologized, and I left the shop saying it was fine, since Caryn hadn�t gotten hurt because of this oversight. My seatmates on the chairlift on the way back up didn�t agree with my laid back attitude, insisting that we contact the resort manager and demand our money back. I closed my eyes and went into Frank Costanza mode, thinking, �Serenity now...serenity now...�
The man sitting next to me on the lift offered to take the skis upon dismount after I informed him of the chair lift dismount debacle that had occurred several minutes earlier. Caryn put on the new skis. Success! It was safe to ski again! While I was gone, Tony, John and Caryn devised a plan for our next few runs and we headed toward the North section of the resort.
All was well and right with the world.
For now.
To be continued...
joeparadox at 10:50 p.m.