Saturday, March 14, 2009

Skiing to Certain Death

Tonight I was talking with my sister and her boyfriend about my impending journey to Europe, and while we were talking about all of the impossibly amazing things I will be doing (too many to list) skiing came up. 
I'll be in Riva San Vitale (aka the Swiss Alps) and my professor has informed us that we'll be skiing a couple times, at least. 
This is awesome, I mean, who gets to go skiing in the Alps?!

The problem? 

Despite the fact that my parents both lived in Vermont, I don't know how to ski. Sure, I've been to the ski slopes... in JULY
 (we go to Wintergreen every 4th for the fireworks and celebration) Even more ironic is that my parents not only lived in Vermont, they met there- working at... oh, a ski lodge. 

It's not necessarily that I just don't know how to ski. I'm 95.6% sure I will break something--despite the inordinate amounts of milk that I drink.  
Not to mention the fact that I'd rather learn on a mountain just a tiny bit smaller than the Alps. 

To be completely honest, it's not the slopes that scare me (so I fall on my butt and/or face a couple times? That's inevitable).  It's the lifts. How the hell do you get off of those things? You Jump?! Are you kidding me? 
That is where I'm going to end up taking advantage of the mandatory Swiss Health Insurance that has to be purchased with my student visa (that's a whole different blog post). 
The idea of navigating two long sticks strapped to my feet, when I can barely navigate their normal length, is a bad one.  
The worst possible scenario? Ending up like this guy (Vail, Colorado)... And then dropping to my death.
Dying with your pants off is bad enough. Dying without your pants off after falling off of a ski lift? Classy. 

I've thought about snowboarding. My balance isn't that bad, and that's one less stick to worry about painfully tripping over. 

It was my sister who came up with the ingenious solution to this problem: I obviously just need to find a really hot guy that will teach me. 
Foolproof. 

I'm sure he'll think it's really hot when I faceplant off the ski lift...

6 comments:

insomniaclolita said...

LMAO soo true, I only went to ski three times in my life during vacations. I usually dont really ski anyway, just sliding and stuff :P Your sister's plan sound real good :P

Chris said...

My cousin is a ski instructor. But that doesn't help you at all, because he's in New Hampshire, and as European as that sounds, it's not.

Just watch out for trees and yell at lot at other people.

Steph said...

That's banking on any hot men in the vicinity. Just in case there aren't any- I'll keep Chris' suggestion in mind. Note to self: learn the phrase 'watch out' in swiss-german...

ChinkyGirLMeL said...

LMAO! hehehehe... I can't imagine clinging on to dear life and my dear pants! One has to go. lols... funny funny post. Thanks for making me laugh. Oh and your sister's plan, that should do the trick. Find a really cute instructor and I'm sure you can cling on to him if all else fails. =)

Emily said...

wow so weird that you would write this the weekend that natasha richardson dies in a freak ski accident. (rip)

hope your fate on the slopes was much much better.

twystedandturned said...

Brilliant, Steph. Seriously. Leave it to you and your sister to come up with the hot guy idea. But, it'd be my luck that the hot guy would be present when I killed myself. As long as I do it gracefully, right?

p.s. I love the set up of your blog! It's awesome! I wish I didn't fail so bad at computer stuff..