Since you can collect some good stories when you go skiing for the first time, I'm sharing them in installments. Find out why my instructor called me "The Troublemaker," and then read about how I earned that nickname by having a screaming Tourette's tantrum on my first green slope. Then learn how I finally made it to the bottom on an intermediate slope.
We got to the top of the mountain on Day 2 around 10:30. K headed off to ski with one of our friends. I assured him I'd be OK doing a few warmup runs on the bunny slope by myself. As he and our friend walked away, I put on my skis. As soon as they were on, a feeling of uncertainty washed over me. All I could remember was the struggle, frustration and anxiety I had had on the supposed green slope at the end of my first day. Had I forgotten everything I'd learned?
I pushed myself forward in the direction of the bunny slope. The area I was on was level, so I wasn't exactly skiing yet, but I was nervous. I felt shaky.
When I got to the bunny slope, I realized I couldn't do it.
There were classes on the slope. Snowboarders. Skiers. Kids. Adults. Instructors, including mine. There were families. Friends. I was by myself. By myself on Day 2. After intense failure on Day 1.
I was stuck on what to do. I didn't want to call K because he was going to get in some good skiing with someone who knows what he's doing. I didn't want to go by myself because I had no confidence. I didn't want to bug my instructor because he had a new class of people to teach (and tell to avoid Schoolmarm).
I searched for people from my class, since several had said they'd be out that day. I couldn't see any of them.
So I took off my skis, and I sat at the top of the bunny slope. K had said he was going to do a couple loops with our friend. I couldn't imagine he'd be gone that long.
I felt stupid. We had paid $60 for a lift ticket, and I was wasting it. I thought about just hopping on the gondola and heading to the bar at the bottom of the mountain, where the one friend of ours who doesn't ski was hanging out. Since I figured that would be a bit dramatic, I stayed put. I felt like my semi-pouting was completely acceptable. No one else was skiing alone. Why should I?
When K showed up, he was surprised to see me sitting. He felt bad, since I'd told him I would warm up on my own, but he understood why my nerves had gotten the best of me. So we conquered them together.
We went down the bunny slope slow and easy. I took long, wide turns so I wouldn't gently bring myself back into it. When we reached the end of the slope where we'd ridden the Magic Carpet Ride (a Jetson's style conveyer path that takes you back to the top of the bunny slope), we curved to the left instead, where our friend told us the slope continued.
The curve to the left was a little steep, but not bad. Nothing like on Schoolmarm. Once you curved, though, on your right, there was a rope on the edge of the slope. Past the rope, there was a big dropoff. About 15 to 20 feet beyond that, there were trees. Basically, if you managed to slide under the rope, you'd fly into the trees and die. (Funny thing to line a bunny slope.)
On the left side of you after the curve, the mountain started climbing up again. There were trees a couple yards up, so there were mounds of snow at the base. If you hit the mounds of snow, coming down them could increase your speed, which (if you're going fast enough) could leave you flying to the right ... and under the rope and into the trees to your death.
Other than that one area, the slope was all right. Past the curve, there was a long straightaway (probably 100 yards, easily) that ended with a chair lift, just like our friend had said.
"This is exactly what I was wanting for you yesterday!" K said. It was awesome. Just enough slope to get me comfortable, and wide enough so I could practice turns. The base of the slope was perfect for me to pick up a little speed and try to stop quickly.
We went around several times. Each time, I picked up a little more speed. I weaved through snowboarders and skiers, anticipating their movements to plan out my path in the snow.
I was having fun.
"You're doing great! I'm so proud of you!" K kept saying.
I was always careful around the curve. In the beginning, I all but stopped before taking it. By the fourth or fifth time, I let myself keep a tiny bit of momentum going into it. And by the fifth or sixth time, I took it fast. I was a little nervous about my speed, but I'd gone pretty quickly the previous run, and it was fine. How else would I start going faster?
The slope in front of me was pretty clear, so I went with it. I was going so fast. Ridiculously fast! It was so much fun!
Up ahead of me, there was a little girl on the left of the slope, at the base of the trees. In the middle of the slope several yards ahead, a man was heading toward her. I decided to curve to the right around him. I moved my hips just a bit, and I continued to race forward.
But then he stopped. Or curved right again. I really can't remember what it was he did, but it was a move I hadn't seen coming.
Oh God.
I'm going to hit him.
I did the first thing I could think of: I applied my imaginary brakes, complete with sound effects. "ERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!"
I turned my body to the side to try to slow myself down. Damnit, I'm not good at stopping yet!
I braced myself, and I crashed into the back of him. I collapsed into the snow, but he was still standing. "Ohmygosh, I'm so sorry! Are you OK?"
I looked up at the man. He had moved over so that he was now a few feet from my right side. He had a funny look on his face, as though he was still trying to process what had just happened.
"I'm so sorry! Are you OK?" I asked again.
Suddenly, his face changed. It was as though he had caught up with everything that had just happened.
"GET YOURSELF IN CONTROL, GOD D#MN IT!" he screamed over the mountain.
I'm pretty sure my eyes doubled in size. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!"
He continued to scream and curse at me. What's funny is that while he was doing the screaming and cursing, he was mentioning that there were children on the slope.
K, who had been skiing behind me, took a step toward to him. "Sir, you need to calm down." I noticed K had removed his right glove.
"This a beginner's slope! You shouldn't be here!" the man said.
"She is a beginner. That's why we're here," K said.
The man said something along the lines of, "Well you shouldn't be flying through here like that. My daughter is over there!" (He was still yelling.)
"Well, what kind of example are you setting for her right now?" K asked.
That shut the man up. He headed over to his daughter, and they skied down the hill.
I was still sitting in the middle of the slope, with my left leg (and ski) underneath me. I was shocked, dumbfounded.
"Whoa ... um ... I'm the beginner, so I'm going to assume that was my fault, right? Or was it both ours? Be honest. You can totally tell me if it was all me. I need to know. I was probably going too fast, right?"
K said something. I was too busy replaying everything that had just happened to really hear it.
"You didn't do anything wrong," a voice said behind me. I turned. It was a ski instructor. He'd seen the whole thing. "Don't worry about that guy. I heard you try to warn him. You did everything you could."
I was so glad an instructor had seen the whole thing and was able to tell me I hadn't royally screwed up. An instructor would definitely tell me the truth (not that K wouldn't, it's just that he's biased).
"Do you think he's gonna apologize later, like maybe his initial reaction was to get pissed off?" I asked.
"No," K said quickly. "That guy's just an asshole. If he was gonna apologize, he would've done it right then."
I gave the man and his daughter plenty of time to get to the chair lift before we did. We went around the slope a couple more times, but I was completely gun shy, opting to work on my turns and my stopping (real stops, that is) the whole time instead of picking up much speed. I think K was a little disappointed that we'd had such a hit to my momentum, but it was understandable to have that reaction.
We decided to call it a day and take the gondola to the base of the mountain to get some lunch. When we stopped to take off our skis, the man and his daughter were a few feet away from us. I intentionally didn't move elsewhere because I was curious to know what the man would say if he saw us again.
And he did.
Oh my gosh, how could I leave you hanging? I know. I wanted to keep going. It's just too long as it is. The conclusion of the Colorado trip will be here tomorrow morning!
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