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!!”
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