‘Hey Bill, Wanna Go Skiing?’

During the winter months, people often ask me, “Bill, do you ski?”

I always answer this simple yes-or-no question with a simple yes-or-no answer. I reply, “No.”

For some reason, most people never leave it at that. They look at me as if I just said I don’t think puppies are cute, and then they ask a bunch of follow-up questions, such as: “Really? Why not? Have you ever skied before? Don’t you know it’s really fun?”

Sheesh. How did this simple small-talk inquiry turn into a full-blown interrogation? I try to respond as truthfully as possible. “Yes,” I say, “I have skied before, which is why I do NOT ski now. And I’m pretty sure the word ‘fun’ is not a part of the experience, unless you define ‘fun’ as that moment when you stop hitting yourself on the thumb with a hammer because it feels good.”

At this point, they usually look at me as if I not only insulted cute puppies but actually kicked one across the room. But I don’t think I’m being unreasonable. There are certain things in life I don’t particularly enjoy, among them are frostbite, torn knee ligaments, and throwing fistfuls of 100-dollar bills into a blazing fireplace. (OK, that last item isn’t exactly what happens while skiing, although when you receive your credit card statement a couple of weeks after vacationing at a ski resort, you realize throwing fistfuls of 100-dollar bills into a blazing fireplace would’ve been the wiser financial move.)

I went skiing for the first (and last) time in my early 20s. Some co-workers invited me to join them for a weekend at Killington in Vermont. They said it would be fun and not too expensive. They lied. Twice.

Before we left, I asked one of my co-workers, “Isn’t it really cold in Vermont in February, especially on top of a mountain?”

He replied, “Not as long as you have the right clothing.”

I said, “You mean like a hat and a pair of gloves?” He nodded yes, or so I thought.

When it was too late, I discovered the phrase “the right clothing” really meant a specially-engineered, insulated outfit that costs more money than what the astronauts wore while walking on the moon. Since I was in my early 20s and the credit limit on my VISA card often forced me to purchase only HALF a tank of gas for my car, it was a moot point anyway. I naïvely journeyed northward thinking my $2 wool cap and $3 pair of gloves from Caldor would be fine.

We were supposed to be there for two full days, but after the first hour on the bunny slope I could no longer feel my fingers, toes, and face. I started to wonder when the word “fun” was going to occur.

The clincher for me came when I was snowplowing along at about 5 mph, and the tip of one of my skis dug into the snow for about half a second. I didn’t get hurt because I was going so slow, but in that fraction of a second before the ski tip popped out of the snow, I could feel about 9,000 pounds of leveraged force start to twist my knee joint. Having endured knee ligament surgery as a result of playing football in school, I asked myself, “Self, do you want to go through that medical nightmare again?”

The answer was obvious. When I finally arrived at the bottom of the hill (and at 5 mph, that took a while), I headed for the lodge and sat by the fireplace for the next 36 hours. 

And that’s why my simple yes-or-no answer is, “No. Oh my God, NOOOOO!!”