I meant to look like this:
But really looked like this:
Honestly, I probably didn't even look as good as Goofy at his worst. I tumbled down the first drop. I lost everything. And I mean EVERYTHING. Things that I had at the top of the hill that I did not have at the bottom:
- My poles
- My hat
- My skis
- My goggles
- One glove (OK so I didn't lose EVERYTHING)
- The very little dignity I had
- My cool
"You &*!#%&%, DID YOU REALLY THINK I WAS- oh, thanks for getting my glove for me- READY TO SKI DOWN THIS &*()&*()& MOUNTAIN, I BARELY EVEN- yeah- that's my pole- thanks- *)(*(*^&*^*& LEARNED TO SKI THE )*)(^&^*$%^ BUNNY HILL- great- yep- that's my hat- yes, I'm ok... thanks"
I was furious and mortified and on top of a mountain on a stupid blue trail. And for all of you ski experts out there- good for you that blue trails are easy- I'm proud of you- you deserve a pat on the back. They should be easy if you know what you're doing. But if you are a girl from Louisiana who is just getting comfortable with the idea of snow and has only been on skis for a total of two hours in her life- blue trails are not so freaking easy.
Turns out we were on the wrong trail. We should have gone around the back of the restaurant to start on the green trail. But there was good news- only about 100 more yards, and then our trail overlapped with the "easy" green trail. Just to put this in perspective for you- I'll do the math. There are 300 feet in 100 yards, and I fell about every four feet, so that means I fell down about 75 times (± 5 times, CI: 99%) in the last 100 yards of the blue trail. The trail color also described my bruised ass and legs, so it was a win-win.
Once we made it to the green trail, it got a little better. I was getting steadier on the skis and feeling somewhat more comfortable. J was having a tough time like me, but we were making progress. At one point, when I fell, my friend Nicole skied over to help me up. I excitedly told her that I was starting to like skiing and I was really getting the hang of it. She excitedly told me that she had good news for me- I had the whole rest of the mountain to ski down. My excitement quickly waned.
We were slowly but surely making our way down the mountain when J twisted her knee and could not go any further. Nicole set up the SOS sign of the skis making an upright X and waited for the medics to get there. When they got there, J went down the mountain on the sled, and Nicole followed close behind.
It was just me and the boys. But not for long. Guy decided that he should get to the bottom to check on Nicole and J and felt OK leaving me and Mikey, the two idiots from Louisiana, on the mountain. It was pretty late in the day at this point, and the daylight was rapidly fading. I started getting pretty nervous about the situation, which forced me to lose focus and fall a gazillion more times. Mikey was tired of waiting on me and also uncomfortable with the encroaching darkness and did what all
Mikey left me on the mountain. Well everyone left me on the mountain. Mikey was just the last to do it. As the last hope of sunshine disappeared, I tried really hard to stay calm. I realized how quiet it had gotten, and how much snow muffles sound and kept pushing images of gory horror movies out of my head. This was so uncool. Who knew that I was going to die in Vermont on a mountain? Damn you, Katrina.
Right as my nerves got the better part of me, Ski Patrol showed up. I was so thankful. There were two guys and a girl and they quickly questioned me. My gratefulness took a U-turn to indignation that they were talking to me like I was an idiot and then another U-turn to playing the Katrina card. They didn't give a shit. There was someone legitimately lost on the mountain and the last thing they wanted to deal with was a girl who was in over her head. They mumbled amongst themselves and decided that the girl would stay with me to finish the slope.
I tried to make some jokes. Nothing. I tried talking to her. Nothing. She tried giving me ski pointers. Nothing. I kept falling. I asked her if I could take my skis off and walk down the mountain. She said no. I asked her if she had been to New Orleans. She didn't answer. I fell. I tried to pizza wedge. I fell. She warned me that there were some frozen creeks coming up that might get a little slick, but to just ski like normal. Her warning was not unheeded, but I didn't know what skiing like normal meant. I fell. She let out a huge sigh and told me to take my skis of. She put them over her shoulder, and skied down the mountain with them. Looking totally hot with blonde braided pigtails coming out of her unborrowed ski hat. Followed by me-a Southern girl in a 90s ski get up with men's gloves on, walking like a damn storm trooper in awkward boots down the mountain. You should have seen the looks on my friends faces when they saw me coming. You should have also heard the words that came out of my mouth.
Picabo Street can keep her stupid chapstick endorsement.