[The following post was composed on Tuesday, February 13. I was too tired to compose it on the 11th. A bit of reading help: "we all" or "we" will refer to all of us on the ski vacation; my mom, me, and the pastor and his wife]
My mom warned me that the first day of ski school would likely be traumatic. She was right. After bundling up, we headed to Breckenridge, about 20 minutes from our condo. Once there, I got fitted for boots and skis then headed out to the ski school area. I had about 10 people in my group from all over the country. Our instructor was a guy from Michigan. (The instructors are dispersed by their supervisors depending on enrollment and skill levels.] Unfortunately, his teaching style didn't click with my learning style and I didn't advance to the afternoon session with my class.
I met my parents for lunch at the ski lodge. To my shock, I saw that food prices were, shall we say INFLATED, to say the least. I paid, GET THIS, $14.00 for a cheeseburger, basket of fries, and a medium-size soda. $14.00!!!! WHAT THE %^@@@%*#????!!! I didn’t know the big oil companies were in the food-court business. It wasn’t just that; all the food was priced at least double what it would be anywhere else. I could only shake my head in amazement! There was really nowhere else to eat nearby, so I guess they have a monopoly. Everyone coming off the slopes is wearing ski boots, which are a pain in the rear to walk around in. Their restaurant is convenient and the only real option so let the gouging begin. : )
As I mentioned earlier, my afternoon ski school was the polar opposite of the morning school. There were three others besides me who needed further help. We were assigned a really great instructor. He took things much slower and explained things so I could understand them, as Forrest Gump would say. Since there were only four of us in the group, he could analyze us individually. Part of my problem was that my ski boots were a bit too loose and he whipped out a tool to tighten them up. This made all the difference in the world! By the end of the day I was feeling much better about my prospects of being a competent skier.
Oh, and encase you’re wondering, I did fall, several times. In inconvenient places, several times. Thankfully, I didn’t get hurt at all. Skiing involves moving most of the muscles in your legs so it helps to have them well conditioned. I had worked out pretty hard but I still ended up with lots of sore muscles. It turns out that the day didn’t go so well for the other skiers in my company. The slopes weren’t in great shape after the weekend and persistent snow showers during the day made for tough skiing. A hot shower soothed my aching muscles while the others soaked in a hot tub downstairs. A hot meal and a game of Scrabble made up the rest of the night.
Interesting aside: what I didn’t expect was the number of foreigners employed by the ski resort. I encountered workers from Australia, New Zealand, Brazil, and Argentina, just to name a few.
My dad snapped the picture of me above. Ignore my bad form; I was still learning! The apparatus in the background is a "platter lift." It's a pole with a mini-frisbee attached to the bottom. They are attached to a moving clothesline that goes up the hill. The idea is to grab onto the pole, let the mini-frisbee grab you between the legs, and it pulls you back up the hill. You have to get off at the proper time and start moving forward or you could start sliding back down the hill, as I did a few times until that mental block got unblocked!
2 comments:
did i catch a hint of scorn in your "voice" as you typed the word michigan? careful there some of us were born there!
Oh, no, no scorn felt or implied! : ) I was alluding to the fact that the instructors' home city was noted on their name tag. My instructors were from Michigan, Colorado, New Hampshire, and North Carolina.
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