I found myself heading out to the slopes for the last time this season on Friday since my little sister decided to splurge and get herself a new ride. And by ride I mean snowboard. Which came last Wednesday so there was no way she wasn't going to try it out before the snow melted for good.
So off we went to Brandywine with Adam and Chris, to face a mountain full of snow ice resembling snow. Amy strapped on her new boots - which I will admit, are cooler looking than mine. Seriously, if Michael Jackson needed some moon boots for his moon walking, these would be it. Minus the fact that you can't actually move any part of your foot in snowboarding boots. Which explains why we all walk around looking like we have a major wedgie or something - and off we went.
We headed straight to the ski lift to the top of the...err, hill, to try out her new board. The icy conditions weren't very accommodating, but we managed to snake down to the beginners hill while making a couple craters in the snow along the way. There wasn't much we could do on the slopes, so we figured we'd head down to the smaller less-crowded slopes to work on some moves. I was doing pretty well. Until we got to the bottom of the hill.
And realized we had to go back to the top.
You see, the beginners hill doesn't have a ski lift. No no, it doesn't even have a ski carpet.
It has a TOW ROPE. Which basically consists of a steel string with handles attached, churning up the hill at about 5 mph.
So here I am, standing at the bottom. Just waiting for a little handle to come along. Of course I've never been on one of these before so I just grabbed it with my hands and this little piece of plastic drags me up the hill. None of the eight-year-olds surrounding me thought to let me know that you're supposed to put the handle behind your back and let it push you up the hill. Sigh...so I'm attempting to hand onto this plastic for dear life while balancing on my board which is running into tiny mountains of ice and flailing everywhere instead of following a neat little path. One thing led to another and I was suddenly on my butt in the snow, tangled up in the line and trying to stand back up on ice.
Fun fact: tow ropes don't stop. The people keep coming.
I ended up knocking over my brother who in turn pretty much side-tackles one of those pesky eight-year-olds. It was a domino effect which resulted in about six of us piled in a heap at the bottom of the hill.
Let's just say I had to take some tips from the snotty eight-year-old next time up. Although I swear the lift attendant was snickering as I went for my second attempt.
I think I'll retire from the tow lift till next season. Sorry snowboard, I love ya, but I'm ready for spring.




