until this february, i had been skiing exactly once- madriver mountain, bellefontaine ohio. i hated it. i couldn't even get my balance on the t-bar. okay, maybe i had had one too many g & ts mustering courage, but...ugh, it was a dreadful experience.
so now i've been skiing twice. i didn't fare any better this go-round.
chris enrolls joe and me in a beginner's course on the baby hill. my instructor informs me that i'm only the second adult to be permitted upon this incline. "the other was just last week - he was a 65-year-old man. we were worried to send him any higher." i cut my eyes at chris, who is basically supporting all of my weight so he can't intercept the look i'm shooting him. what did he say to this guy for him to make an exception for me?
i fall on every "run" but two during our three-hour lesson. joe looks on worriedly at first, in between his little whizzes down the slope, but then he basically waves me off with a "bah."
afterwards, we meet chris and our friends, david and jessica, in the lodge. i assume that this is my reward, the bit where we will all sit on deep sofas in front of roaring fires sipping frothy mugs of cocoa. this is not the case. we queue up with dozens of other much more successful skiers in a buffet line. everyone clomps around with bits of snow and ice falling from their boots and big drafts swoosh through the vast dining hall as more and more skiers make their way inside. this is not cosy or picturesque or in any way like i envisioned it, courtesy of soap operas and sit-coms and movies. "i just want a beer," i moan. "a big one."
so we sit around and everyone makes over joe and his success, and david and jessica and chris dissect their brilliant runs and discuss the quality of the snow while i pray for a swift ride back to the hotel and a scalding hot bath.
on our way back to the hotel, we can see the ski jump used in the olympics. everyone wants to check it out and david and chris want to try the bobsled run. next day, they do. they return with loads of fotos of them on the run, wide grins on their faces, beers in hand and talking about how they "thought it would be faster" and "it definitely isn't the same kind of thrill as jumping out of a plane" and i look on incredulously and think that this definitely isn't a holiday
for me...
