Peter Wall
Literature of Conflict
12/9/06

A Fun Box, A Red Snow Cone, and the Brown Present in the Woods

The fun box is not fun. It really is quite the opposite of fun. It is amazing how a two foot, by two foot, by ten foot box of wood and plastic could be so unpleasantly fun. Having a title that misleading is actually quite dangerous for the user. There wasn’t the simple sign with the green circle, blue box, or black diamond. That is where they went wrong. One of those signs in front of the fun box could have been helpful. For some people I am sure the fun box is quite fun, but for me, that particular winter break, the fun box couldn’t have been more un-fun.
I wouldn’t exactly call myself athletic. Yet, I find myself surrounded by a group of friends that would fit into this category. It’s not entirely depressing, but I would say it does an excellent job of putting me in my place. Athletic people are able to excel at everything they do. They will play your best sport for the first time and beat you at it. It is frustrating, but after a while I’ve come to accept this series of events. This fact is no different with skiing.
Several years back, my mother bought a place in Vail. Soon after, a good friend of mine, Chris Anderson, also got a place in Vail quite close to mine. These happenings set up the most painful winter break of my life. I would say it was the winter ‘04, but my memory is still a little hazy from some of the falls. Another friend of mine, Tony Davis, came up with me for the second half of the break. Chris and Tony are both skilled at skiing and boarding respectively. Anderson is completely insane. He will jump large masses of rock that were simply not meant to be jumped. He also does twice as much skiing as everyone else on the mountain because he doesn’t turn. He goes straight doing about forty-five so he gets down twice as fast, or about six times in comparison to me. His skiing resembles the crappy computer game “Ski.” Some days I wish I were the abominable snowman. Tony can hold his own, but doesn’t possess the talent of Chris. I myself completely suck at skiing. This could be due to the fact that I’m not athletic, slightly top- heavy, or that I tire quickly. Maybe it’s a combination of all three, but whatever it is, I was not meant to ski.
Unfortunately, the epiphany that I wasn’t built to ski hit me too late in life. I’m pretty sure that this thought struck after the first run I skied with Chris and Tony. I remember it vividly. The run was called Hunky Dory. It was full of these strange, massive, fluffy white bumps they call moguls. Apparently I was supposed to maneuver my way around these strange, massive, fluffy white bumps instead of traveling straight over them. This detail was regrettably, not made clear by my considerate friends. I made about two turns when my ski tips dug into a mogul. From that point I ejected from my skies and proceeded to tumble down the mountain. How exciting!
The concepts of physics follow closely with skiing. The more mass one possesses the faster they go whether it be while skiing or falling in my case. Also, the more a person weighs, the faster they fall due to gravity. I’ll be politically correct and say I’m big-boned. Following these criteria/facts I was falling down the mountain at a tremendous velocity and hitting the ground quite hard. Upon reaching the end of the run the only words out of my mouth were “When‘s lunch?”
After Chris and Tony quickly realized that I lacked the talent to make it down the seemingly easy runs on the mountain, they took me to the terrain park. The “TP,” as the cool
skiers call it, is probably the most pointless place on the mountain. The skier grinds a piece of metal while destroying their skis. Then when done grinding this pointless piece of metal, the skier proceeds to hike back up so they can do it again. Mountains are sloped downward for a reason: so that the skier doesn’t ski up them. I understand it’s a strange concept. It took me
several days to grasp. Anyway, the “TP” is where I encountered the fun box, which as I stated before was quite the opposite of its title. The fun box is probably around forty pounds of pure hell. There is a snow ramp up to the box followed by a ten foot plastic table top. Sounds simple for most. But apparently the word “most” doesn’t include those who are unathletic, top heavy, and tire quickly. My first attempt on this not so fun box didn’t turn out as I hoped. At no point did the thought of spreading myself on a two foot box ever occur to me. Maybe it should have. The next few attempts were no better as I fell on about every conceivable part of my body. Watching my friends grind the box sideways, I decided to conform and try it myself. That’s brilliant. If I can’t do it going straight, I am sure I can do it going sideways. I jumped onto the box, my feet slipped out from under me, and I landed square onto my hip. That was the end of my stupidity on skiing day one.
My stupidity resumed the second day in the form of jumping large rocks. Large for my standards at least. Trying to get a bad skier to jump a cliff is similar to talking a mental patient down from a high rise. The only difference is that in skiing, the people at the bottom want you to jump. This is mostly for their entertainment as they know that the jump will most likely
result in injury or death. After about fifteen minutes of standing at the top of this large rock, I jumped. I believe the main reason for the jump was to prove myself to Chris and Tony. The only thing that I proved was the fact that I bleed large amounts of blood. As I landed, my knee struck me in the face. This caused a bloody nose and put a large gash on the inside of my lip. Meanwhile Chris and Tony were on the ground laughing hysterically and making their own colorful snow cones beside the red one I made.
On the subject of snow cones, Tony took a dump in the woods that frigid winter day. I’m not particularly sure what inspired him to commit such an act other than the fact he just had to go. It’s a common occurrence for people to have bowel movements in the most inconvenient places. Skiing is one of them. So poor Tony took of his skis and wandered into the woods, trekking through several feet of powder until he found a satisfactory spot. The funny fact is that Tony didn’t realize he was directly under a chairlift. Chris and I could hear little children asking their mothers, “what is the boy in the woods doing?” I’m sure the answers were priceless. Now I bet the reader is wondering what Tony wiped with. I have no response to this question because even I do not know the answer. Maybe he didn’t wipe at all. Only Mr. Davis can answer this deeply intellectual query.
Winter is an exciting, joyful, and unforgettable time to celebrate a fantastic holiday with the family while receiving gifts in the process. What more could one ask for? Yet, I also learned that winter can be a painful, misleading, and confusing time in the life of an unathletic and top- heavy teenager. The phrase “Hunky Dory” means that all things are going well. This saying couldn’t have been more ironic when describing that dreadful, yet thrilling, winter break. I
sometimes worry that my friends will ostracize me if I didn’t entertain them by my lack of athleticism. What if I became good at skiing? Then who would I ski with? It’s their fault that I suck at skiing.