Last year, Brighton Ski Resort had a killer deal that if you brought in a sack of food, you could get a Day Ski Lift Pass for $18! 18 BUCKS!! You can't beat that! Normally it is $45 for the day. So Brian and I decided that we would rent some skis and hit the slopes.
Apparently, we are very naive when it comes to the skiing world. We had rented our gear from Sport Chalet which was boots, skis and poles. Little did we know that we were not even half prepared for the event. Brian kept mumbling about needing goggles, but was refusing to pay $45 for a pair for a 1 time use. All we had was our coats and some gloves and the gear we rented and we headed up the mountain.
I quickly learned as we got out of our car that we stuck out like sore thumbs. First of all, everyone looks like they just stepped our of an Ambercrombie ski apparell magazine. Their pants, boots, hats, gloves, skis etc, all matched and were the latest styles.
I have my brown winter coat that I had brought and had a moment of anxiety when I realized I had completely forgotten about ski pants!!!! Lo and behold Brian had not and brought for me a pair of green ski pants that we his dads or sisters from the 80's. Oh for the love, I had no other choice. I get cold so easily and when I am cold, then I am done.
So, humbly I slipped the green snow pants over my jeans and tried to convince myself that I did not look like an upside down tree. Oh, the humanity!! Poor Brian had no ski pants and had to just wear his jeans which apparently is a fashion faux pas now on the mountain.
Next, I wanted to know what he had planned for goggles. He whips out either our old sunglasses or shop glasses that we got from Jordan when we had to do a bike ride so early in the morning that it was still dark. I still laugh picturing myself walking around Brighton Ski Resort as an upside down tree with shop glasses on. And yes, this was last year and BE QUIET!!
I had broken down and told Brian that I had no memory of ever knowing how to ski and so we spent most of the morning on the bunny slopes with the other 9 year olds who were there with a class. He finally convinced me to head to the easiest slope on the main mountain. We headed up the lift and quickly I was having flash backs of rolling down the mountain. I convinced myself that I was a big girl now and I could handle this. No problem!
As we headed down the side of the moutain, I tried to find my groove of going back and forth down the hill. Suddenly, a large pack of skiiers caught up to us and when I would go to pivet left, a skiier was right there and I could not turn. No problem, I would just turn right and as I turned a wake boarder passes right next to me. Now I am heading straight down the mountain in a staight line and "THE PLOW" was not slowing me down. Brian was behind me and said that at first, he thought that I had finally gotten it down, and then realized I was out of control. The only thing I knew that would stop me was a tree or a large snow bank.
Sonny Bono died with the tree, so that is out, and I spotted the large snow bank. I hit the bank and dissapeared in the snow to have my husband come and dig me out. OK, now I am down, get me to the car. Brian coaxes me to get back in the skis and at least ski down the rest of the mountain instead of walking. So, I collect what little ego I had left, picked my tree butt up and decided I was going to show this mountain who was boss.
I was going at snails pace in a very predictable pattern (trust me, I was taking no risks at this point) when all of the sudden I get nailed in the back by a snow boarder. The girl and I tumble together and when we came to a hault, I just layed there and started to cry. The snow boarder's friend came up and says "Now look what you did, you broke her leg." My mind raced over very quickly that nothing in my body was hurt other than my ego. I screamed "I'm FINE!" and tried once again to place the tree upside down again. I made it down the mountain to sit my rear at a table and sip hot chocolate as my shop glasses fogged up. I was a wreck and ready to go home.
I waited in the car as Brian gracefully went down the mountain on his own so he could get at least one good run in before we headed down the mountain to sweet civilization. As the car drove away from Brighton Ski Resort, I made a promise with the hills of the Wasatch Mountains. I would never grace my tree like butt on the moutains as long as I lived the rest of my life. And the mountains rejoiced!!
Picture of me, Brighton Ski Resort December 2007!