Friday, January 11, 2013

Generational Genocide

     Since I moved to Colorado several years back I am asked frequently, "I bet you ski a lot?" Not exactly. I had an experience many years ago back in Ohio that forced me to hang up my skis for the betterment of human kind.
      It was a snowy Friday and some fellow co workers and I decided it would be a great idea to head to the Ohio Alp ( noticed I said Alp not Alps) to Mad River Mountain (glorified hill) Ohio's premier ( yes I went there) skiing resort, for an evening of skiing bliss.

             Actual picture of Mad River Mountain.

         We piled out of my friends van just as the last rays of sunlight disappeared over the horizon. Maybe it was the changing of the day to dusk or the crisp winter air, but I felt alive, ready to tackle this hill like Charlie Sheen tackles sobriety. We entered the building payed our money and rented our skis. As we exited my friends headed to the ski lift. I told them since I have never really skied before I would go to the bunny hill and do a few runs and then meet up with them to ,cheesy double finger gun pumps, shred the hill later. I felt so boss, I was sure this whole skiing thing was going to be a total breeze.
          As I approached the bunny hill I walked by a sign that said, "This way to the puppy hill." Puppy Hill, what's that? I walked to a little bump in the terrain and saw it covered with small children zipping down it's face. I thought to myself I'm just as novice as these guys why not latch my skis on and give it a go. I climbed the hill secured my skis to my boots then approached and looked over the precipice. As I stood there looking down the hill my confidence waned. It looked a lot higher and steeper from this angle. Fear began to take hold, I stabbed the snow hard with my poles to prevent an accidental plunge over the side. I was froze with terror until a little, I like to call him my hero, snapped me out of it with  these words of wisdom." Hey tubby, you going to get out of the way or go down the hill, I don't have all day?"  He was right, we didn't have all day. I turned to the five or six year old and confidently said. "I'm going over the side." With all my courage I closed my eyes and sprang down the hill squatting at the knees like I have always seen Olympic athletes do. As I picked up speed I felt the air in my hair. I opened my eyes and I was actually skiing. I couldn't believe it I was actually doing it. Kids were zipping by me like I was standing still, but I didn't care as I screamed at every one that blew by me "I'm skiing, I'm skiing!" The ride, although only took a couple of minutes, felt like an eternity. I felt like I was tearing down some black diamond run in Aspen. As I reached the bottom of the run a dilemma arose . How do I stop? I guess I didn't think this through. So I let instinct kick in, and laid down. The crash wasn't to bad and it accomplished what I wanted it to, it stopped my free fall. As I struggled getting up I was pretty pleased. I headed to the top to do it again. The second run was better than the first, and when I got to the bottom I actually stopped without falling. I looked around and said "I got this." I was starting to get pretty confident.  I'll do one more run on this puppy hill then move to the bunny hill.
        When I got to the top of the puppy hill for the third and last run, I must admit, that confidence turned into cockyness. I started bragging to the little kids at the top of the hill how this was my first time skiing, and I was better than some of their parents already. Then as I waited for my turn I turned to the kid next to me and said, "Why doesn't this chick go already, we don't have all day (laughing)." She finally went and I looked at the kid next to me with a stupid face and said. "About time. Now watch and see how this is done." I flung myself over the side. As my skis touched the snow I already knew something was wrong. I flung myself over the side to hard and was going to fast. My eyes got as big as saucers as I screamed "GET OUT OF THE WAY!!!" That is when I hit the first child. Poor girl didn't see it coming. She glanced off my right leg which caused my leg to lift off the ground and I began to spin. That is when I clothes lined the second child with my leg. This caused me to spin more violently and I clothes lined two maybe three more kids, I don't know it happened so fast but I did feel their little throats crash into my knee, and saw their little bodies fly through the air like rag dolls. It was horrible. Then I fell and began rolling down the hill bouncing up and down my skis flew off  in different directions. I felt more children glance off my body as I barrelled down the hill.. To the right then the left, good god will this ever end? Then finally my momentum was slowed from the constant barrage of little people striking my body, I came to a halt staring at the sky. I moved and checked to make sure I was in one piece. Than at that moment the hillside began to cry and groan in unison, like it was alive. I struggled to my knees and turned to see the carnage I was responsible for lying on the hillside behind me. I wiped out a whole generation on that hill. It looked like the aftermath of the Alabama/ Notre Dame Nation Championship game.  Parents began streaming up the hill to comfort their children and to curse at the adult individual that ran over their offspring. I heard the whistles of the ski patrol, so I picked up my skis and slinked off, turned them in and disappeared into the crowd at the lodge, vowing. "As Sonny Bono as my witness, I will never ski again."


  1. Hi Kevin I like your blog, big hugz from Minneapolis MN... Al.

  2. Thanks Al, I'm really glad you enjoy it. It is always great to know that people read and enjoy them. I hope you keep reading.

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