2004-03-04
SKIING PART TWO, PART TWO (and my 200th entry)
Heading down the shuttle, I remembered why no one skis the North runs. North blows. Fortunately, my three companions decided ahead of time that we would ski Coal Chute, the run closest to Central. A green circle, the slope was wide enough to attempt despite the chair lift that ran up the middle. The chair lift was less of an obstacle than the four smartassed kids who probably took Daddy�s Beemer (please to read that with clenched teeth) to get to KB so they could spend the day screaming on the quad and ignoring all rules of ski etiquette. We barely avoided the collision that ensued when Biff, Conner, Tyler and Liam (or was it Aidan?) decided to weave around one another and smash their seven hundred dollar K2 package-wearing bods into pole #6 of the Coal Chute chair.
Halfway down, we realized the extreme suckitude of North and paid homage to the few extra minutes we spent planning at the top of the hill. We agreed that it would be a mistake to venture further into this section of the resort, since we were perfectly happy with the variety of runs that Central and South offered. According to the map, there was a lower shuttle that ran back to Central, but a wrong turn could dump our inexperienced selves on a double black diamond. I didn�t want blood stains in my silver VW, so I made sure we double checked the location of the mogul-free shuttle back to our slopes of choice.
In junior high, I participated in ski club. With a roach clip bedecked with peacock feathers hanging from a leather string (and no, I didn�t smoke pot) clipped in my feathered hair, purple legwarmers slouched up to my Jordached knees, and a royal blue CB jacket covering my Fair Isle yoke sweater, I rode a coach every Tuesday afternoon from December through March, singing Journey songs with my friends, to Kissing Bridge. Unbridled confidence and a complete lack of fear led us, on one occasion, down a double black diamond called �World of Your Own.� Yards and yards of giant moguls peppered the run, and we had to remove our skis, sit on them and ride down the hill on makeshift sleds to remain unbroken and alive. This experience was hilarious at 13. At 34, it would have been...FUCKING hilarious! Next time, Tony, we�re DBDing it back to Central!
Tony and I reached the mouth of the shuttle first. We were greeted by the bastard mogul children from World of Your Own. We couldn�t see where the shuttle snaked out, and the bumpy outset did not bode well. We deduced that we should not be skiing this path. Tony and I escaped clear and present danger and side-walked back to Coal Chute. This shuttle looked nothing like the one we saw on the map at the top of the hill. Riding the chair back to the top and taking the upper shuttle back to Central was not an option because the upper shuttle is on an incline. And it�s long. And so the upper shuttle could bite us.
We did what any self-respecting, mogul-fearing skier ought to do. We took off our skis and walked. Have you ever walked in ski boots? It�s not easy. You can�t bend your feet. Heel-toeing it is the only way it can be done. Still, Tony and I maintained our usual gait. Why? Because we are ridiculously athletic and we rock, even in ski boots. Actually, it was because we had invested in ski pants, which serve two purposes. They keep the legs warm and dry. A pair of longjohns are sufficient under a good pair of ski pants, even in the most frigid weather. Secondly, they are specifically designed to fit OVER a pair of ski boots with great little features like zippers and velcro. The last time we went skiing, we weren�t properly outfitted. We both wore jeans and had to tuck them into the ski boots. This isn�t very comfortable. In fact, it hurts. My shins were actually bruised because of the seams of my jeans dug into my skin from the pressure of the ski boots. This time, walking around with heavy weights tethered to our feet and ankles was a freaking PLEASURE.
Back at Central, we gave the finger to the quad chair that nearly decapitated us and went back to the triple chair. We were happy to be back on familiar, yet challenging terrain. We hit the shuttle with toes forward, picking up speed and enjoying the view through our perfectly tinted and unfogged goggles. We could see every shittin� fuckin� thing.
On the triple chair, Tony and I chatted and laughed as we always do on the ride up. Earlier that day, Caryn had lost her nice red fleece headband. It could have fallen off anywhere, but we didn�t lament the loss too greatly since it wasn�t super expensive. Tony and I were waiting for the triple chair to slam into our asses when I spotted something red on the ground next to the lift operator�s feet. I was pretty sure it was Caryn�s headband, so I said, �Dude! That�s ours! Can you hand that to me?� The operator bent down and tossed me the red fleece band just as our skis started to dangle. John and Caryn were a few chairs ahead of us, due to the extreme rudeness of a Harry Potter lookalike and his shorts-and-tshirt-wearing sidekick. They butted right in front of us in line. It took every ounce of restraint for me to give these little preteen shits a stern talking-to, so I just muttered, �Get off the lawn!� under my breath instead.
Tony said, �I can�t believe you noticed that. Are you sure it�s Caryn�s?�
�Um, she was wearing it. That qualifies it as fashion. Do I or do I not memorize people�s fashion?�
Tony smiled. �This is true.�
�I mean, I could be wrong, but I doubt it. And if I am, we�ll give it to the lift operator at the top when we get off.�
�Or...we�ll just throw it in the snow.�
Now, Tony ALWAYS makes me laugh with his off-the-cuff remarks, but this one sent me over the edge. I couldn�t stop laughing. I was laughing when we passed the underwear tree. I was laughing when we leaned into each other and my head clunked against his silver helmet. I was laughing when we went balls to the wall with the guardrail. Fortunately, the weather was nice that day or my face would have been covered with icicles hanging from my eyeballs.
Good thing I had this nice little chuckle, too, because a few minutes later, I was nearly in tears. And not the laughing kind.
Before the hysterical laughter kicked in on the chair lift, Tony and I were discussing our ski goals for the day. I knew he was ready for a blue square, but he needed a bit more time to be comfortable before he would advance. I was encouraging him to do it before the day was over. Okay, insisting. I just knew that he could. I�d mentioned that I might try a black diamond before we called it a day. If I could ski a blue square carrying Caryn�s skis, I could attempt a black diamond with my mental crutches poles, right? Right.
People might call me a bit impulsive. I jump into everything I do, full force and with great passion. I like this quality about myself, but it can get me into trouble sometimes. Right before the entrance to Twinkle, the slope we�d all agreed we�d take TOGETHER, there�s a black diamond called �Thunder Run.� This seemed as good a time as any to give it a shot, so I yelled, �I�m gonna try this!� I didn�t look back. I didn�t think. I just skied.
The run was short and steep and it dumped me off at the shuttle that begins mid-Twinkle and ends at the base of Mistletoe. I assumed Tony, John and Caryn were going to take this route and end up in the same location where I just edged to a stop. I looked left. I waited. �Maybe they�re already at the bottom of Mistletoe,� I thought. I pushed off with my right leg and headed down to the bottom. Nope, not there.
�Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,� I thought. �I�m such an ASS!� It never occurred to me when I made the left turn onto Thunder Run to decide on a meeting place at the end of the run. This is how my impulsivity screws me. I spend most of my time putting the needs of others before my own, but when impulse takes control of me, that�s the only person I think of. Me. And it always bites me in the ass in the end. I guess I just suck at being selfish.
Here I was, at the base of Mistletoe, with no idea where Tony, John and Caryn were. Were they waiting for me on the shuttle? Did they ski to the bottom of Twinkle? And now what should I do? Should I ride the lift back up and try to find them? What if they come down when I�m on the way up?
I decided the best thing to do was to stay put. Isn�t that what field guides tell hikers to do if they get lost in the forest?
I stood at the bottom of the hill, while seventeen years of Catholic guilt crept back into my brain, hoping for a glimpse of two silver helmets and a red jacket heading in my direction...
joeparadox at 8:51 p.m.