I was talking to a friend the other night who reminded me that I owe him my “ski mishap” story. Ah, yes. A winter classic, if I do say so myself.
Every year, my youth group would take a ski trip to some place in the Poconos. We’d be there for the weekend, and spend all day Saturday on the slopes. When I went on the trip in 7th grade, it was only the second time I’d ever been skiing, but I’d done so well the first time, I figured, what could go wrong?
That year the trip was to Elk Mountain, and I was with friends who’d had a little more experience than I did. They humored me while I did a few runs down the bunny slope, and then we jumped to a slope that was a combination green circle and blue square. I was doing all right, taking my time, carefully busting out the “pie-wedge” stopping technique when necessary.
And then it happened.
I was on the last leg of the slope, I could see the bottom, and I *knew* I was going to make it. But then I started going faster. And a little faster. And a little faster. And then I realized I was only skiing on ice, because the fake snow had been stamped down by previous skiers. I tried to slow down, but as I attempted the pie-wedge, the tips of my skis, somehow, got caught in the ice. And before I knew it, I was doing flips in the air and landing on my face, sans skis and poles (which had been wrapped around wrists). I sat up, one contact hanging out of my eye, a cut underneath the other one, and tried to figure out what was going on. And then I heard, “Honey, are you okay?”
Are you serious, lady? Do I look okay? I’m crying, bleeding, sitting on my ass and can only see out of one eye. Of COURSE I’m not okay. When ski patrol came to get me, they eventually decided I should go to the hospital and get checked for a concussion. Which led to another, what I considered stupid, question, when I had to get x-rays. (Important note: Keep in mind, I was only twelve years old at this point.)
Nurse: Okay, now before we do the x-rays, there’s no chance that you could be pregnant, is there?
Liebchen: [shocked] No!
Nurse: Oh good. ‘Cause I hate it when girls your age say they’re not sure.
Liebchen: [jaw on the floor]
When all was said and done, I had a minor concussion, a sweet bruise around my eye, and very little faith in the common sense of that nurse (or the lady on the slope). And while I’ve tried skiing again, even at Elk Mountain (crazy, I know), I still get a little gun shy. I find no shame in sitting on my skis, and going down on my butt, if that’s what it takes.
Better than landing on my face again.
P.S. Happy Birthday, Mama! Hope you liked your cards!