(If you haven’t read part I, you should probably scroll one post down and read it first. Go ahead, I’ll wait.)
So like I was saying.
The skiing story from hell didn’t stop after that near-death experience.
The awesome designers of the slopes decided that they would make just one ski lift for 3 hills. Here is a visual to aid in the story:
So basically, we ride the chair lift back up to the top of the hill. Sarah (My sister) instructs me to go toward the right, so that we can go down an easier slope.
She, being the gracious and loving sister that she is (read: murderer that she is), allowed me to go first again. How kind.
So I veer to the right. I am all proud that I have cut across the mountain.
I am zigzagging all down the slope.
I realize that I didn’t cut across the mountain far enough. As you can see from the picture above, hill two intersects back with hill one.
And then, I am filled with dread. I am headed back toward the black diamond.
My sister is behind me and notices my mistake. But I guess I can’t call her a total murderer, because she did follow me down the black diamond as well to make sure I didn’t break all ankles, knees, ribs, elbows, and shoulders of my body.
Soon, I am speeding just as fast as I was the last time!!!!
The frantic praying begins again: JESUS! SAVE ME! OH MY GOODNESS! I CAN’T STOP! IIII CAAANNNTTTT STOOOOOPPPPP! I’M GOING TO BREAK MY LEGS! AHHHHHH!!! GOD PLEASE HELP ME! DO YOU HEAR ME? HELP ME! PPPPLLLEEEEASSEEEEEEEE!!!!!
Praise the Lord that He heard me. This time? I didn’t even crash at the bottom! Woo hoo!!!!!!
Sarah reaches me and in the midst of tears from laughing so hard says: “Why didn’t you go to the right?????”
I stare at her incredulously.
“I DID go RIGHT. You didn’t tell me HOW far right to go!”
So? You guessed it.
Up the frickin ski lift again.
This time? I am ADAMANT I am going to go all the way right to hill #3.
So, down we go again.
And I make it all the way right, alright.
All the way right, straight into a HUGE flow of ski traffic! I was screaming: “Get out of the way! I can’t stop! I’m coming right toward you!”
Expert 4-year old skiers look back with fear and panic as a huge white marshmallow flies toward them. Stupid expert 4 year old skiers.
Then? BAM! I crash into a HUGE, MONSTROUS mogul.
My skiis go flying and one of them smacks me straight on the forehead.
Simultaneously I hear a group of 10 guys yell “OOOWWWHHAAAHHHHHHH! That musta hurt! IS she OK? Hahahahahah!!!!!!!”
One of them was nice enough to come pick me and my disintegrated pride off the ground.
Here comes Sarah again, laughing her face off. Thanks Sarah, you’re a real help.
She tried to console me by telling me a story about her friend who went racing down a hill so fast she crashed into a tree. She had braces at the time and had to pick tree bark out of her braces for the next 2 days.
Well, I guess that made me feel a little better.
Not much. She still tried to kill me on 3 different occasions.
So maybe I don’t long that much for snow. Maybe summer can stay a little longer. Even if it is hot as crap outside.
Because people? I can NOT have another humiliating experience like that on the slopes again.