Skiing Part III: Everytime I Drive by Dairy Queen, I Flinch.


This is My Normal Order at Dairy Queen.  And a Small Diet Coke.Skiing is over for the winter. And possibly forever.

I have had enough. Actually, that is a lie. I love it. My body has had enough.

This includes most of the important parts such as; my back, my knees, my hips, and whatever else hits the ground when the rest of me goes airborne (actually, the flying through the air isn’t that bad, but I do dread the landings).

Crashing isn’t fun. Thankfully, the blows to the head have pretty much ruined my short term memory.

Thankfully, the blows to the head have pretty much ruined my short term memory (did I just say that, I can’t remember).

The trip got off to a shaky start and then went downhill from there (sorry, I couldn’t resist).

The in-laws having luggage troubles was the least of our problems.

You ask, what could possibly be worse than lost luggage? Well lots of things including; world hunger, the polar ice caps melting, too many TV shows about tattoos, but let’s focus on my troubles.

Halfway through our trip we ended up in a blizzard. And not the kind from Dairy Queen that is never as thick as advertised (they should have a money back guarantee).

Let’s be honest, I am not a young administrator anymore, so I have seen a few things over the course of my career. In theory, being out in a blizzard should be a piece of cake compared to a Monday morning at school (only thing worse… a full-moon Monday).

The question is why was I outside during a blizzard?

I wish I had a good answer. I wish I had any answer.

The ice storm that preceded the blizzard should have been a subtle hint to stay off the slopes.

Actually, my first clue should have come the night before when the local weatherman said, “Anyone going outside during the blizzard is a total and complete moron”.

This may not be exactly what he said, but it was definitely implied.

I heard his advice, I just didn’t take it (and this was when I still liked weathermen).

Overnight we got 19 inches of ice and another 35 feet of snow (I am guesstimating here, work with me), so naturally we decided to go outside and ski.

By we, I mean me and my father-in-law. Every other intelligent human being within 106 miles made the decision to stay indoors (you may say they were smart, I prefer the term soft).

This group included my wife, unemployed child, and always hungry mother-in-law who all felt that skiing in a blizzard was a bad idea.

My father-in-law who had no luggage, clothes, books to read, swim trunks, underwear, or… you get the point, was more than happy to brave the elements. The man didn’t latch the tailgate… he had nothing to do…let’s not judge… it is time to move on.

So, we headed out into the glorious and beautiful day. By glorious and beautiful, I mean crappy and life endangering.

We headed straight into the mouth of the blizzard, but what could possibly go wrong.

Well, in retrospect a couple of things. One, ski lift seats get slick when covered with ice. This little tid bit of information sure would have come in handy a few seconds before I sat down.

Or tried to sit down. I fell right on my… never mind. At least I didn’t take my daughter (which I would have, but the court order says I can’t).

Two, it is hard to see while skiing in a blizzard. Again, another bit of information I could have used in advance.

I first realized this when I couldn’t see. I mean not at all. As in I couldn’t see my feet or hands. I wish I were kidding.

Going down the hill was like being in a human version of the game Frogger.

Lucky for me I didn’t run anyone over. Of course that would have been difficult because everyone else was inside.

So there you have it. No more skiing. No more dropping my daughter off the lift. No more falling. No more risking life and limb just to slide down a mountain with metal slats tied to me feet. No more taking a chance that I will spend the next 6 weeks in a cast and on crutches.

I am going to stick to what is safe. School. Parent conferences. Mandated testing. IEP meetings. Supervising games.

What could possibly go wrong with these?

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