Since skiing is basically the equivalent of skydiving for a Saskatchewan boy like me though, there are some stipulations that help me enjoy the sport.
I need room. Big room. And I can’t ski with anyone lest I smush them like roadkill. And since my upper body seems to be a tad (three times) larger than my lower body, I cringe at the thought of using poles. My arms must be free and extended outward (sadly emphasizing my upper body further). Why the catatonic stance? It’s simple. I’m preparing to break my arm or several vertebrae or perhaps my pelvis. Picture a puffed out turkey on stilts.
But that’s how I like it. It might seem surprising, but most fellow skiers seem to immediately recognize the invisible “no fly zone” around me and provide a wide berth. Most make eye contact once and then never again. Irritating snowboarders zoom by like they own the place and let’s admit it, they pretty much do. To them I am simply another obstruction to avoid like a tree or an annoying relative. I don’t resent them for their confidence and ease.
I do resent some ski parents though. Sorry, but watching a parent put a harness on his ten-month old and ski behind him like the toddler is some sort of tiny reindeer is extremely annoying. Don’t get me wrong. It’s fantastic when kids learn to ski very early thanks to their sporty and fun-loving parents. My problem with this can be boiled down to one (hyphenated) word: show-offs!
Some parents are just so competent. Some parents are so talented too. Some parents can teach their kids how to do everything. Some parents even ski down a mountain while holding a child in their arms. That would be like me skiing with a large watermelon nestled under my chin. I’m not good at science but the upper body ratio thing alone means that little scenario is a disaster formula.
I guess I should just admit I’m jealous of those super-parents who are so freakishly capable they can teach their kids how to ski and ride a bike and split atoms and whatever. And in comparison, what have I done? Well, I did buy them helmets.
Google "Saskatchewan + mountain" and this is one of the results. Works for me.
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True story from last night:
So we went to see Wilco at the National Arts Center last night. Great. Date night out. Yay! Well. We got seats in front of the only parents in the universe who would take their 6 year old twins to a 5 hour long rock concert on a Monday night. Said 6 year old twins kicked the backs of our seats the. entire. time. They crammed themselves down in their seats so that their necks were against the bases and backrest and just kicked. and. kicked. us. I even politely turned around and bored holes through their mother's skull with my mind, then looked at her kids then looked at her again, then nodded my head toward the exit and then bored holes through her again- directly through her eyeballs, to which she politely said, "Boys, please don't kick the people's seat" and that was the extent of her disciplinary endeavor, which did nothing.
The point is that mostly everyone else is an idiot parent and I am bitter.
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