Ski Trip From Hell - part 3

Much as our day of skiing had disappeared, our plan for dinner and a few hours of wild nightlife dissolved along with Mick’s good health. We had stopped at a grocery store and laid in a loaf of bread, some canned food, luncheon meat and a few beers. Lucky for Nan, Gail and I as that was all we had to eat and drink.

The little condominium had two full-sized bedrooms, a living room with a wood-burning fireplace, a small kitchen and one bathroom. We three healthy ones built a fire, had a sandwich and a few beers while we listened to Mick tossing his cookies through the thin walls. Mick’s flu continued through the night. The last time I looked at the clock it was three in the morning. Early-riser Gail shook me awake around six.

“Get up or we’ll miss half a day of skiing.”

Dragging myself out of the warm sack, I washed my face and pulled on my heavy ski apparel. It was only twenty-eight degrees outside as Nan, Gail and I drove up the hill to the ski resort, Mick still too sick to get out of bed. We were soon on the bunny slope, Nan giving Gail and me a few quick instructions.

Nan smiled and nodded when Gail said, “I can do this. Let’s go to the top of the mountain.”

After a quick demonstration of how to get on the ski lift, Nan and Gail mounted the chair in front of me. I slipped and slid but managed to scurry into the next chair beside an older woman that refused to look at me. She was dressed in the finest skiwear, her boots and skis the top of the line. She had a frown on her face and just kept shaking her head. She did not reply when I said, “Nice day.”

Mounting a ski lift is one thing, exiting the first time something altogether different. My heart raced as we approached the dismount area. Having no idea what to do, I pushed my rear off the wooden seat, my boots instantly tangling. It wouldn’t have been so bad to fall off the lift, but the moment I lost my balance, I grabbed the snobby woman beside me. She struggled to release herself from my grasp, but like a drowning swimmer, I held on, refusing to let go.

The stranger and I tumbled off the lift and slid down the hill for at least a dozen feet. When we finally slid to a stop, the woman quickly untangled herself , dusted herself off and skied away, hoping, I suppose, that know one had seen the disgraceful debacle.

Two people had. Nan and Gail were standing about ten feet away, laughing their butts off. The remainder of the day deteriorated from that point. I tried my best, but I could not get the hang of free falling down a mountain on a pair of unwieldy fiberglass slats. By noon, I was bruised, exhausted and completely humiliated.

Gail, on the other hand, was a natural athlete. She skied to the bottom of the mountain, never falling. I should have been so lucky. I made it to the bottom of the mountain, but mostly on my face. When I finally reached the lodge at the base of the mountain, I found Nan and Gail waiting for me.

“You’re a real piece of work,” Gail said. “I don’t even know how to describe how much you embarrassed us, or even what to call you.”

“Super Klutz,” Nan said, laughing. “When it comes to skiing, you just suck.”

Like the mountainside, the day continued downward from that point. Feeling like a complete fool, I followed the two laughing females up the mountain again, dismounting with much the same results as before.

Next time down, I pulled off my skis and went to the bar in the lodge. There I waited until five when Nan and Gail tapped on the picture window to indicate they were ready to go back to the condo. As I plodded to the orange Saab, I was looking forward to a peaceful evening. My humiliation had only just begun.

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