Skiing

I was inadvertently reminded by a friend about a skiing experience of mine. I should point out that he reminded me by telling me a skiing story of his own, wherein his wife ends up being carted down the mountain by the ski patrol and ends up needing surgery. Which proves the point I am about to make, which is that skiing is a Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Decision.

I was a Girl Scout when I was younger. This is a poor decision that probably deserves it's own entry, but maybe I'll get around to that later. For now, it's relevant only because the my troop leaders decided it would be a good idea to take us on a ski trip. We were a bunch of twelve year old girls, and we were usually excited to do just about anything. I was particularly excited because it was such a European and fashionable sounding thing to do, and one more thing that everyone else seemed to have done that I hadn't.

"Going skiing is a terrible horrible no good very bad decision," said my mother, who tends to say that about a lot of things. So I ignored her.
"Going skiing is a terrible horrible no good very bad decision," said my father, which should have set off the warning bells, because my father doesn't usually know when things are a terrible horrible no good very bad decision, or usually care, so long as they're not fatal.

But I ignored him too, and signed up for the ski trip. My mother signed up as a chaperon, because she and her best friend (who was notorious for terrible decisions which were a result of a complete lack of attention to reality) decided not to miss an opportunity to sit around in a ski lodge next to a fire, drinking hot chocolate, and mocking the idiots foolish enough to go skiing.

I'm going to tell you right now. There was no ski lodge. But this is not a story about my mother's poor decision, or the psychological trauma she suffered as a result.

I honestly don't remember too much of the day. I know that I was immediately cold. I know that at least two of the girls were crying for at least part of the day, and I think it was more related to girl drama than ski incidents. I remember whining a lot and being unable to get up the hill and having my mother and her friend pull me and my friend up the bunny hill by our ski poles. I remember taking a few short workshops on the way up the hill. How to stand. How to turn left and right. How to get up if you fall.

For this one, the instructor asked for a volunteer to demonstrate. No one volunteered. He picked me. He had me get down on the ground, and proceeded to twist up my legs and my skis so I was tangled. Then he said, "Okay, use the skills we just discussed to stand up!"

Eventually he and my mother came forward and spent five minutes getting me out of the snow.

Then it was time for my first solo run down the bunny hill! I stood at the top, ran over stance and left and right in my head, decided I was ready, and pushed off.

Has anyone else noticed that none of my lessons included learning to stop? Because it was not until approximately ten seconds after pushing off that I noticed. When I did notice, I panicked. I tried "left" and "right" and "screaming," none of with succeeded at stopping me. What WAS successful was the little group of people milling about at the bottom of the hill who had not taken flight at my initial scream. These people were very effective at stopping me, abruptly, although they were not exactly "happy." Lucky for everyone I am quite a small person, it was quite a small hill, and no one suffered any permanent physical damage.

I, however, suffered all kinds of emotional damage that has stayed with me for many years. I don't think I went up the hill again that day. I believe I went to sit with the crying girls. Possibly I started to cry as well. I never skied again, and I have zero interest. Why go through all that work with the cold and the snow and the tramping and the lifts and the ropes when your reward is to fall on your ass somewhere on a mountain/hill and possibly end up in surgery? Or sitting in a building with crying 12 year olds and NO FIRE AND NO HOT CHOCOLATE?

Stupid.

I have never been snow boarding, but I can't imagine it's any better. I have to agree with my friend who told me, "If God meant for us to fly down the side of a snow-capped mountain with our legs bound at the ankles, he would have made us that way to begin with.

Yes. I believe that too.