Tag: skiing

Some Cheer for Your Christmas #holiday #Christmas #ski

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Because it came up on Facebook, I want to share a funny story that might give you a little laugh. It relates to the only time in my life I went skiing.

Not just thematic. Foreshadowing!

Context

It was the early 1990s. I was newly-graduated from the University of Maryland, as was my cousin, Mike, but from the University of Virginia. Mike and I were taking occasional trips to Boston where his younger brother was attending MIT. Mike had been skiing before and suggested driving up to the Killington Resort in Killington, VT. (Spare me your “East Coast skiing sucks” claims. They mean nothing to me.) This was a relatively expensive trip for me, because I didn’t have much disposable income, and I was on my own financially, suddenly having to buy things for myself previously taken for granted. Bill Clinton had gone on late night television and when asked, “Boxers or briefs?” said “Briefs.” While that seems like a diversion, it really isn’t. On with the story.

Killington Resort

Mike took me on the bunny slope so I could get the feel for skiing, but we both agreed that if I were to learn, I’d just have to get on a real slope, so I did. I went down the slope the first time and thought, “DId the temperature suddenly drop? My legs are a bit cold all of the sudden. And why are people staring at me?”

I chalked up the latter concern to me being paranoid for being a new skier, and I got back on the lift for another run. Halfway up, I realized my jeans had ripped. Yes, I was wearing jeans because I didn’t want to spend money I didn’t have on skiing equipment I might never use again. Also, I was wearing gaudy, bright-red briefs, which were hard not to see in clear weather. To me, brightly-colored briefs were new and cool.

Never accuse me of being cool.

So, I took off my jacket, tied it around my waist, and made one more run down the hill. Mike tried to get me to change my pants and try again, but I had only one more pair of jeans with me, and as far as I knew, there were no clothing stores nearby the resort. With limited time to ski, driving off site didn’t seem practical. I changed my pants and spent the rest of the day in the resort, hanging out and bored out of my mind.

I never skied again.

And there’s some holiday cheer for you.

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Another Random Memory #sport #ski @KillingtonMtn

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Here’s another random memory that popped into my head. I’ve been skiing once. Way back in the 1990s, my cousin and I went up to Killington, Vermont. The word on the street was that Killington was the best skiing on the East Coast, though it didn’t compare to anything out west. How could it? I have no idea whether that’s true, but that’s what we heard, so we went up there. Mike had been skiing before, so after one run down the bunny slope, he told me, “You’re never going to learn unless you push yourself, so go to the next slope up right now.”

Don’t worry. This is not an inspirational post.

So, I moved over to the next most difficult slope, while Mike went to the harder ones. So, here’s the thing. I didn’t have a ton of disposable income, and I had never been skiing, so I just went in jeans, a University of Maryland sweatshirt, and a winter coat. I went down the slope and had a few spills but was none the worse for wear (other than it seeming a little colder). I did, however, get the sneaking suspicion that people were staring at me. I chalked it up to a paranoid fit and got back on the ski lift to make another run.

On my way up, I looked down and noticed that my jeans had split wide open around the crotch. This explained the staring as well as how chilly it suddenly got.

But wait! There’s more!

This was the 90s. Bill Clinton had declared on national TV that he was a briefs man, which caused sales of boxers to plummet. Moreover, society was becoming less conservative on the little things that didn’t really matter, so, well, the bottom line is that I was wearing bright red briefs. I might as well have had a neon sign on my head, but while everyone thought nothing of staring, no one bothered to mention it to me.

Yeah, you read that correctly.

I was on the lift, so there was no turning back, so before I got to the top, I tied my jacket around my waist to cover the tear and skied down the slope. By then, I was getting the hang of it, but I had only one more pair of jeans, and I wasn’t going to risk them, nor was I going to pay for overpriced skiing outfits at the lodge. Mike caught up to me on a break and tried to get me to reconsider, but that was the end of my skiing. Possibly forever.

I’m an indoor kid (inside joke).

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