Bull crap. TOTAL bull crap. That's what I have to say about the subject -- piles and piles of smelly, stinky bull crap. Which brings me to the ski-related part of the Ski Saga.
Have you ever snowboarded? It's a thrilling sensation, the likes of which you can only get by hurtling yourself down an icy slope with naught but a plank between you and utter destruction. I have officially snowboarded twice, once last year and once this year... I thought I would have known better.
Let me start by saying this -- snowboarding really is fun, no matter how much I gripe, complain, and mully-grub about it.
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Now that I've gotten that out of the way...
Really?!!?? I mean, really -- what is the joy, the payoff for slamming face-first into a snow bank 100 times? What pleasure can be gotten from plowing into a sheet of ice because some ninny on skis decided to sit down at the bottom of a steep hill? How, pray-tell, does one avoid careening off a bluff backwards, arms flailing, lips cussing, and pants wetting? Hmmm??!?!!??
I took the class. Yes, Virginia -- I took the "Ober Gatlinburg Ski (and snowboard) School" class to make me Shaun White. Situated in an under-glorified picnic shelter, everyone had to watch a video about safety on the slopes, "The Code of Responsibility". Group after group after group of skiers came and went, while the poor little snowboarders had to wait for an instructor. I saw this freaking video SIX TIMES. Oh yeah, outside in the cold. VERY VERY VERY cold.
After our instructor finally arrived to teach us the mystical secrets of la planche à neige (that's French for "snowboard"), I was a bit underwhelmed. We started out by hopping in a circle (sans planche), walking around in a circle, then standing on one foot while wiggling the other one about. There I was, ass frozen solid and doing the hypothermic Hokey Pokey with a bunch of camouflage-wearing mountain folk.
I ditched class and got a couple of beers in the lodge.
I actually did hit the slopes a bit. My whole family (save my brother) went skiing, so I might as well have been on the moon. They kept telling me how much easier it was to snowboard than to ski, and that I just needed to keep at it. Right... it's totally easier because I've seen people do it, and it looks easier. So it is. Totally right. I spent much of my time slipping, flailing my arms, cursing under my breath (kids, ya know), falling down, trying to get back up, getting back up, and falling back down. When I would finally get going pretty well, I would see impending doom looming before me like a deadly minefield -- scads of inexperienced skiers and snowboarders (much like myself) splayed out all over the course. It looked like a damn Civil War reenactment.
I had a hard enough time going, and let me tell you -- stopping is MUCH harder than going. Especially when you have to stop on a hill. And the hill turns. And it's filled with the devestated remains of a 4th grade class in ski boots.
So... yeah, I fell down a lot. My trick for stopping is pretty much the same one that everyone uses at the skating rink -- slamming into the wall. But there are no walls on a ski slope, only ground... so that's what I did. Purposely wiped out, I mean. By the end of the day I felt like I had been beaten up. My knees were bruised, my butt was sore, my arms and legs ached, I had a headache, and I had no idea how most of these ailments had occurred.
The one saving grace was that our cabin had a hot tub on the front porch. Every evening I would retire to the hot tub alone with a huge beer or bottle of wine and let the stresses of the day melt away... while everything else froze. True story -- It was still 12 degrees outside (and snowing to boot!), so while I was toasty in the tub, my hair was freezing solid... even on my face. An interesting sensation, and by far the highlight of the trip.
So that was snowboarding. If we get the cabin again next year, I will probably end up snowboarding again. I do not expect different results, although I will anticipate and buy more beer.
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