Skiing requires a solitary state of mind, and is best suited for those of us who enjoy the company of thoughts. Most ski time, however, is spent on ski lifts in the company of strangers. Here are a few memorable moments.
- Sitting next to a ski instructor and his private clients, a brother and a sister younger than ten, right before Christmas:
“What do you want for Christmas,” the instructor asked them.
“I love Chelsea stadium so much; I hope to own Chelsea stadium.”
“I want a charm bracelet.”
“Dad told me I could be the administrator of the stadium. I do want to own it. I love it so much,” the brother emphasized.
“I want a charm bracelet,” continued the sister.
- Joining a couple of male friends, one older than the other, although neither of them were that young to start with.
“I usually charge people who join us on the chair lift,” the really older man joked looking at me, “but I am going to waive it because you are such a pretty lady.”
“I charge too,” I replied, “in quiet time until we reach the top of the mountain.”
“Where are you from?”
“I was in New York in 1956, for an entire summer, and my employer offered me a raise if I gave up the idea of going to graduate school.” No one asked anything, so the dean of the chair lift continued, “Not a nice thing to do, though he was the only one in attendance when I married my sweetheart a St Patrick’s.” Quiet. “I did choose to go to Yale.”
“What did you study at Yale?” I asked, finally.
“Thank God you don’t belong to the bunch of Chicago idiots who destroyed the economy with ‘trickle down economics.”
“I did study at Chicago too, and…”
“Oh,” I interrupted, amused, looking at the man sitting between me and the older guy to see if physical reprisal was possible or not. The man my age smiled encouragingly, and I obliged. “I guess I spoke too early.”
“There is nothing else except free market. Did you know that the poor today live better than the English aristocracy did in the Middle Ages.”
“The Middle Ages? That’s your standard?” I burst out into laughs.
“Better than the aristocracy and the King of England.”
“You are talking about the bubonic plague era, correct? Oh, here we are on top of the Mountain. Merry Christmas.”
- The chair to Seventh Heaven is indeed the most scenic chair on Blackcomb Mountain.
“Where’re you going?” a skier asked the snowboarder.
“I need to meet Jordan.”
“After ten years I cannot make her turn smoothly.”
“Maybe it is time to have her take a lesson or two.”
“I don’t know, but if in ten years you cannot learn how to turn, maybe she does not want to learn how to board,” the other skier interjected.
“You saying?” the boarder smirked.
“Maybe it’s time to face whatever you need to face.”
“Join us. We are going to have some powder on Cloud Nine.”
The boarder’s phone rang. It was Jordan. She told her partner she had to change her plans, and he was free to have fun with his friends.
The snowboarder smiled.
His friends were happy, and we all wished each other a happy 2016, if you want to believe it happened like that.
First published in 15(70) Cultura de Sambata, January 2016