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Grassy Knoll Institute Olympic Moment

Posted by LOTGK on December 2, 2007

I love watching the Olympic down hill ski races and especially the ski jump. It reminds me when I first went skiing. I was 17, never on skies before and there I was driving to Boston Mills, a local ski resort. I was assured the hills were mild and perfect for beginners for people just like me.

We parked and made our way to the lodge and bought the ski pass and rented the skies and polls. So far so good as I put on my skies and locked them in. We emerged from the clubhouse and made our way to the T-bar ski lift. I carefully studied how the other skiers got in position and plopped down on the T-bar. Again, everything went smooth and I enjoyed the sights going up the hill while dangling my feet with the skies attached.

As my ski lift approached the top of the hill, I was getting instructions on how to ski. It seemed like the right time to ask being a minute from the top of the hill. I was told to use my hips to steer left and right and my poles to keep my balance. As long as I didn’t get parallel with the hill I would be fine. Again, this sounded pretty easy. After all, I was a pretty good athlete and had excellent balance so what could go wrong?

The moment I hit the snow dismounting from the ski lift, everything was in accelerated motion as if I had stepped into a speeding car. I was sliding slowly at the pinnacle of the hill. Through all my efforts I could not stop my momentum from the ski lift and began my descent down the hill. Slowly at first but ever picking up speed.

In an instant I assumed the position of a down hill racer, knees bent, leaning forward, ski poles behind me. Every second that passed I gained speed. I forgot all the lessons on the way up the hill and was now a missile coming down the hill like a bat out of hell.

I felt like I was going 100 miles per hour and I starting yelling at the other skiers on the hill to get the hell out of the way as they weaved in and out of my beeline path. I didn’t want to injure anyone except for maybe the one skier that kept cutting in front of my path ever ignoring my warming screams. In an instant, that skier was toast. On his zigzag into my path, he plowed directly into me. Apparently he never saw me. Since I was crouched down and had a low center of gravity, that when I hit him, it sent him sailing backwards and he fell in a big heap beside me. I however, was still on course straight on down the hill and still picking up speed.

Picking my head up and looking down field I saw a big X shaped structure in my path. WTF was that? It looked like two spears crossed in an X right in my path. I couldn’t steer away from it and was going to fast to entertain falling down to stop my momentum. A second later I was upon the X and all I could do was duck as low as I could and hope I could squeeze under it. I didn’t. I snapped those sticks like they were twigs and still I made my way down the hill.

About 30 seconds had gone by at this point and the hill started to level out. I could se the clubhouse and knew I would be safe in a few more seconds. I was wrong. Even though the hill leveled out I was still going at a very fast clip and the bottom of the hill was more populated opening up more hazards. I began my warning screams to the unsuspecting skiers gathered at the bottom.

My screams were heard this time and like Moses parting the Red Sea, a path opened up for me that sent me slamming straight into the side of the club house wall ending my very first down hill ski experience with a resounding thud. Thank God my journey was over.

A moment later, a ski patrol officer came over and started chewing me out about my reckless skiing putting people in danger, not following proper ski etiquette, and possibly damaging the club house walls and equipment. I looked at this guy, still with the birdies and stars spinning around my head, and calmly told him to STFU!!!

That was my first and last trip down the hill that day as the ski patrol ranger banned me from the hill. I did get my money back for the lift ticket and ski rental and for the rest of the winter kept my nifty little ski lift ticket attached to my down vest zipper.

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Grassy Knoll Institute

Home Of The 99 Cent Conspiracy Theory

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