Well, At Least I Finally Have Good Ski Pants

I bought a ski pass at the beginning of this season but when late in December I tried to put on my ski pants I realized, once I finally got them zipped, that if I should happen to fall over while wearing them I would almost certainly suffer a serious internal injury. It was not even clear that I would be able to bend enough to get into the car to drive to the mountain. A possible scenario was that I would be able to put them on in the parking lot by jumping up and down while yanking on the zipper, hop over to the lift line and then shuffle forward and stand stiffly waiting for the lift, then the chair would hit me in the back of the knees and I would try to sit but my body wouldn’t bend and I would just kind of collapse backwards onto the chair, flailing, and then flip forward and slither under it; probably my helmet or jacket would get snagged on some projection under the chair as it passed over my body and I would be dragged slowly up the mountain, face down, and I did not wish this to happen, so I pretended that I didn’t want to go skiing anyway.

To be fair, these were ski bibs handed down to my son from my brother-in-law and then handed on down to me. I’m not even remotely the shape of either of these people and it’s amazing I’ve been able to wear them for as long as I have. The money I spent on the pass has been preying on my conscience, though, so I finally went to LL Bean a couple of days ago and spent a horrific amount on nicer ski pants than I even knew existed, and now I’m obligated to ski every day between now and May to justify both the price of the pass AND the price of the pants*.

So I went skiing this morning, and as usual on the way to the mountain I went over my list of fears:

  • That I will be forced onto a chair with a bunch of snowboarders who will trip me with their awkward boards as I try to get off and I will go sprawling and the lift will have to be stopped and it will look like it’s my fault.
  • That the lift operator will make me get on a chair with two young people who wanted to be by themselves and when we’re half way up someone will trip trying to get on or off (probably kicked by a snowboarder) and the lift will have to be stopped and we will be stranded mid-mountain, just the three of us, the blue sky above and the white snow below and romantic solitude everywhere and there will be several endless minutes of awkward and resentful silence before we start moving again.
  • That I will not be able to heave myself out of the chair at the top and the lift operator will not notice and I will have to ride all the way to the bottom, the upward bound skiers pointing and laughing and the lift operator at the bottom demanding to know what I think I’m doing.
  • That a snowboarder will fail to see the obvious pattern in my slow and deliberate S-turns and will crash into me from behind, killing me, and the last words ringing in my ears as I leave this world will be an outraged ‘Stupid woman was in my way!’
  • That a perfectly competent three-year old will ski past me and then for no reason suddenly stop directly in my path and I will not be able to avoid crashing into her, and this will obviously be my fault because I am the adult and I was uphill and I failed to avoid the collision, and both of her parents will shout this at me over and over as she is crying and the ski patrol is checking her for injuries and I am struggling vainly to untangle myself and get to my feet.
  • That a trail labelled “Moderate” will have a one of those very short but unavoidable connecting sections that are about four feet wide, icy, very steep, curving between trees and boulders and completely choked with packs of merciless ten year olds all trying to shove each other into the woods for fun.
  • That someone will be able to tell just by looking at me that I was the kid who went on the class ski trips but sat in the cabin reading books because I didn’t know how to ski and couldn’t afford a lift ticket but then still tried to be all cool with the rich kids when they got back from the mountain, and they will ask me what I think I’m doing pretending that I belong here.
  • That I will go into the lodge and buy coffee and sit down at an empty table to drink it and then immediately the big happy extended family whose stuff is under the table will come back and sit down all around me, except for the the person whose seat I’m in, who will stand behind me and say plaintively, “Where am I supposed to sit?”
  • And finally that late in the day I will fall over in plain view of the lift, my skis will be trapped under my body and pointing in different directions but will still not come off, I will not be able to reach my poles, no one will bother to stop, and while I am still thrashing around, struggling, pulling myself part way up only to fall over again, getting weaker and weaker each time, the mountain will close, the last skiers will swish around me, spraying me on the way by, a snowboarder will jump over me with a mocking laugh, a ski patrol will fly by shouting over his shoulder that I’d better get a move on and then the lights will go off, I will run out of energy to keep trying and I will freeze to death before morning. When they find my body they will shake their heads and say how careless and irresponsible I must have been.

But only four of these things happened today, and that was encouraging, so I’ll probably go again tomorrow. See you soon, <KK>

*and the very nice matching jacket I felt I also needed.

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3 Responses to “Well, At Least I Finally Have Good Ski Pants”

  1. Marlene Field Says:

    You know that I went on at least one ski trip and also sat in the cabin reading books! I finished a stack of library books that weekend with no interruptions!

  2. becomingrosamunde2015 Says:

    I remember. We played a lot of board games and Rook and baked cupcakes and tried to play in the snow outside but it was so deep and hard packed. It was great fun. And when one time I did try to ski I went in jeans and a thin jacket, didn’t bother with lessons, took the lift directly to the top and then tried to ski straight down under the lift because I thought that is what you were supposed to do. It didn’t go well. If I remember correctly this was Squaw Valley? Or some huge mountain like that.

  3. Amy Says:

    I too have these fears!! I’d love to meet up
    With you. We can snow plow together.

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