I’m back. Off the mountain and back to reality. It was all I hoped it would be. Perfect. Snowy. Serene. Exhilerating. It was just as I described in my last post. Just what I needed. I spent Friday alone on the slopes. I mean really, ALONE. The mountain was close to empty. I rode up the chairlift alone. I rarely passed another skier as I descended the mountain. And then I did it over again. And again. I actually started craving a little company at one point. I became that person who smiles at strangers hoping they’ll want to engage in a little chat. I did a lot of people watching. A lot of wondering. And in my 5 hours alone I came to a few realizations. Not life altering realizations. Not deep or introspective realizations. Actually quite Superficial (or Muperficial since it’s Monday)… but my brain is still in the clouds so this is all I got as I get back into the swing of things.
– People who ski in jeans are the equivalent to those who workout at the gym in work boots. They think they look way cooler than they actually do. The jeans skiers are the ones that come barreling down the hill behind you, polls flailing every which way, completely out of control. The work boot work-outers are the ones who moan and groan as they lift their 600 pounds of weights over their head. Both are just screaming for attention and ruin the beauty of the environment.
– You can tell the level of a skier by the way they carry their equipment. The novice skier carries their skis and polls in front of them like a pile of laundry. The skis are crossing and sliding about. The poles are sticking vertically in front of their faces. They stop frequently on their walk to try to rearrange their mess but inevitably end up pulling their skis scraping behind them. The more advanced skier slings their skis and polls neatly over their shoulder, clicked together in an organized set. Or they invest in a bag.
– Screaming “LOOK OUT!” as you approach someone in front of you on the slope is useless. My back is to you so I can’t very well “Look Out’. YOU need to be the one to Look Outi since you see me right there in front of you. All screaming these words at me will do is scare the crap out of me and make me want to chase you down the hill and report you to the mountain authorities. You have no right on the same hill as me if you find it necessary to scream uncontrollably at my back.
– Smoking while skiing is all kinds of wrong. I equate that to smoking on the beach. Disgusting. I hope you get frostbitten fingers.
– Self confidence is key if you’re going to ski down the slope under the chair lift. You’re under the spot light. Everyone is watching your every move. It’s like teeing off in golf in front of the club house. You’re asking for hoots and hollers. If you fall, expect color commentary. If you’re zipping down like a pro, expect cat calls and attempts to make you lose concentration and crash.
– Seeing parents with their kids at the mountain made me extremely thankful that mine were at home with my parents. You think going to the playground with two kids is a lot of work (I do!)? Try bundling them up in 3 layers of clothes, stuffing them into a snow suit, plopping a helmet on their head, strapping painfully tight and heavy boots on their feet, asking them to walk through 6 feet of snow and carrying 3 sets of skis and polls all while they are whining that they are cold and uncomfortable. Bitter, eye-rolling mommies, mumbling obscenities under their breath were everywhere. Not so much the dads. I guess they were already on the chairlift.
– Ski lift operators are overwhelmingly more friendly that toll booth operators, although they really pretty much do the same job.
– If you’re going to drink from a flask on the chairlift, you should at least offer a sip to your chair companion.
– On the chairlift or in the chairlift line is not the place to try to pick someone up. Most people are wearing helmets, neckwarmers, goggles and puffy snowsuits. In other words, you have NO IDEA what a person looks like. I guess it’s similar to meeting someone in a dimly lit bar and maybe it’s more accurate than assuming you know what someone looks like from the picture they display on Match.com. But still, once they are stripped out of their ski attire, you may be in for a big surprise. Not that I was trying to pick anyone up. Really.
And my realization after my day yesterday skiing with Tim? I’m a lucky girl. I have a husband who doesn’t love to ski, but did for me. I have a husband who did something he’s not entirely comfortable doing, for me. I have a husband who bought me new skis and boots last year to make the statement that he’s in it, for me. It’s expensive, it’s freezing, it’s an effort… but he did it, the tough guy, the athlete, on the green slope, for me.
Maybe I should suck it up and go enjoy a dinner at Smokey Joe’s barbeque joint, brown paper table cloths, greasy cooks, cafeteria style serving and all, For Him.