The Write Perspective

(Occasionally someone will tell me about an eventful day they’ve had and say, “You should have been there so you could write about it.” In this case it was my sisters, Shana and Bekah, telling me so I consented. It’s rather nice to be able to write about something without having to go through the actual experience myself.)

Shana’s Perspective

It was a perfect day. Crisp, cool, snowy mountains, and skiing. Bekah and I don’t profess to be experts in the skiing profession. I would describe myself a beginner, and Bekah chooses “intermediate.” So it comes as no surprise that navigating the ski lift would at best be difficult, and at worst downright dangerous. Eddie and Andrew were there to instruct and assist. The failed miserably at both, and we didn’t see Andrew after the first ten minutes. 

To fully understand the story, it’s important to understand the ski lift. To get on the lift you need a key card to open a small gate right in front of the lift. The gate unlocks, you enter, and when you have enough time between the circling chairs you scuttle awkwardly to the X on the ground. Standing on the X you will anxiously peer over your shoulder at the approaching chair that slugs the back of your knees, buckling them, and you clatter onto the chair as it swoops you and your companions up the mountain, gasping for air and grasping the woefully inadequate bar that is the only thing keeping you from plummeting to an icy death. This is, of course, if everything goes well. At the top you have a leisurely second to stand up and glide down the small hill and out of the path of the next skiers. 

The first time it worked beautifully. No one fell getting on or off the lift. Bekah and I were pleased with ourselves and we cautiously made our way down the mountain. 

When the three of us has once again got on the lift and were on our way up we let our limited success go to our heads, and chatted about how easy skiing was.

When it came time to dismount we fell apart. I’m unsure what went wrong but, Bekah and I ended up in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the small hill while Eddie morphed into a complete stranger.

The lift guys stopped the lift to give us time to get out of the way and to avoid a major pile-up. Giggling slowed us somewhat but we were able to get back up and wobbled away, blushing. The lift guys waved goodbye, still giggling.

Confidence shattered, we toiled down the mountain. “Did you know people have died by skiing into a tree?” Bekah said nervously.

“Yeah! It’s a major fear of mine!” Our pleasantries were interrupted by loud guffaws. Now out of sight of the lift guys, Eddie was no longer a stranger. “At your speed I don’t think hitting a tree would hurt much.”

As we returned to the lift, Bekah began frantically searching all of her pockets. Eddie and I scanned our cards and made our way to the X. “I can’t find my key card!” Bekah told us from behind the locked gate. As the giant machine buckled our knees Eddie yelled over his shoulder, “Zippers, babe! They’re there for a reason!” 

When we got to the top Eddie miraculously found Bekah’s key card at the scene of the crash. But by the time he called Bekah to tell her, she had gone to the lodge and activated another. The lady behind the desk informed her that because the new one was activated, they needed to return the old one. 

Bekah met us at the bottom. “I’ll return the old card.” Eddie volunteered. He seemed relieved to be free from his charges for a little while.

We shuffled over to the lift to wait for him. (Why does no one talk about how much work it is to ski across flat areas?) We waited. And waited. Eddie didn’t show up. Eventually Bekah’s phone rang.

“We’re at the lift, where are you?”

Bekah then described our surroundings, listened for a second, then hung up. “This is the lift to the bunny hill.”

We labored to the right location as quickly as possible, and by the time we arrived, were fully exhausted.

“Hurry!” Eddie greeted us. He scanned his card and waited impatiently at the X. The lift doesn’t move slowly. It’s not like the chairs drift slowly towards the X, they barrel towards it. We rushed, Bekah ahead of me, and I had almost made it when I heard the lift guy yell, “You’re going to get hi—” 

“WHAP!” the lift hit me and toppled me over. My goggles, hat, and one ski flew. The lift guys stopped it and I scrambled to gather my things. “Do you want to put your ski back on down here?” 

“No, I’ll take it,” Eddie responded for me. I timidly sat down beside him and we were swept off. 

I dared a glance at my companions. Eddie stared darkly ahead, fist clenching my ski. Bekah’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. It was a tense ride. The closer we got to the top the more worried I became. Finally I peeped out, “How am I supposed to get off?” 

“Put all your weight on one leg,” Eddie offered.

I closed my eyes and imagined myself a graceful flamingo, one leg tucked, gliding down the slope. 

The lift guys at the bottom had radioed to the lift guys at the top that a high risk chair was coming their way. As we approached they offered to stop the lift for us. Eddie again responded for me, “No.” 

The panic that had left for a second came crashing back. I tried to summon the flamingo again but it had taken flight. The second my one leg hit the snow I crumpled and once again found Bekah and myself in a heap. The lift guys stopped the lift, looking all kinds of “I told you so.” 

We ditched Eddie after. That decision was made as we watched him cruise toward a double black diamond. “Skiing is better without experts.” we concluded.

Eddie’s Perspective

It was a perfect day. Crisp, cool, snowy mountains, and skiing. I don’t consider myself an expert except when I’m skiing with amateurs, as I was today. But I love my wife so I agreed to accompany her and Shana. I patiently watched as they fell, lost a key card, and made all the mistakes common to beginners. 

I offered to return the inactive key card for my wife to get some much needed time away. I went to meet them again at the lift but they were nowhere in sight. I telephoned Bekah. “Yeah, babe, where are you?” I asked when she picked up.

“I’m at the lift too, are you sure you’re at the right one? Describe your surroundings.” 

“Babe, that’s the lift for the bunny slope.”

Several hours later I saw them approaching, slowly propelling themselves over the flat area. It looked more like scuttling than cross-country skiing. When they finally made it I gave them some time to get through the gate. Three chairs drifted slowly past. “Surely they can make the next one,” I thought, so I went and stood on the X. 

They didn’t make it. The chair lift hit Shana and her goggles, hat, and ski went flying and I offered to take her ski to save her from a bit of embarrassment. 

We had a pleasant trip up. The girls were quieter than usual and I gave Shana a few tips on how to dismount with just one ski. When we got close the lift guys offered to stop the lift to help Shana get off, but I declined to save Shana from embarrassment. She didn’t take any of the advice I had given her and she and my wife ended up on the ground yet again.

I gave them the option of staying with me but they didn’t follow me down the double black diamond. Oh well, skiing is better without beginners.