So this time, because we were, of course, not beginners anymore, we were immediately up on the green run. This was both exciting and terrify. Of course, it was exciting in that it was a beautiful long run to practice on. It was terrifying in that there were lots of opportunities for the ski gods to bless me with speed (see previous post for more on that) and that the more difficult runs further up the mountain all feed into the green run. So I would be cruising along with my instructor and hear someone yell, “On your right…” and I wouldn’t have time to think more than, “Wait, which right are we talking about?!” (I sometimes still get those mixed up) before a skier would fly past me at approximately 100 mph like a human bullet. When you are working on such rudimentary skills as turning and stopping when you want to, this is somewhat disconcerting. After the lessons, Thing 1 and I managed to get in 2 more runs down the mountain without too much incident. We were pretty proud of ourselves for conquering that whole ½ of a mountain!
All in all, I only managed crashing 3 or 4 times, losing a ski once (yes, I got it back without trouble this time), and creating one nasty looking bruise on my leg. Yes, most excellent stats!
But the biggest adventure of the night was not to be had on the mountain. Remember how I said it was snowing? Well, this ensured that Sundance was covered in a deep layer of slush. After returning our rental gear, I discovered how not waterproof my winter boots really are. I tried to be stoic about it as I squelched my way back to the ski bus stop to get in line for the last bus of the night.
After a few minutes of standing in more slush at the stop (my feet were super happy by now), we all piled onto the bus. However, the bus did not go. The bus sat there idling and we all sat there sweating to death in our ski gear, like wooly coated sardines in a heated can. The bus driver told us he had gotten a message to wait for clearance before heading back down the canyon. Well, when clearance didn’t come and didn’t come, the bus driver finally got off the bus to try to find out what was going on. Several sweaty minutes later, he returned.
Remember how I said it was snowing? Well, apparently a Jeep had slid off the road and into the creek a little way down the canyon. The people were OK, but the Jeep still needed to leave the creek. This meant that the entire canyon was shut down until a wrecker could come up from the city and fish the Jeep out.
So all the well-cooked sardines tumbled back out of the bus in search of food and refreshment until the bus could finally leave. And here came another problem: Thing 1’s need for hot chocolate. You see, Thing 1 thinks that snowboarding and hot chocolate are somehow inextricably linked and told me that we now had to get hot chocolate and something to eat. I said it was OK as long as we could be really quick. I was really nervous about missing the bus, seeing as how the next bus back down wouldn’t be until morning and, boy howdy, this was going to be one expensive night of skiing if I had to get a room up at Sundance for the night. And have I mentioned that my feet were soaking wet and cold? Yes, sorry, I did, didn’t I? The memory just keeps coming back to me as I write this.
Refreshment spot number 1, the one close to the bus, had already closed for the night. So we made our way over to refreshment spot number 2. This was a funny place to be. You see, refreshment spot number 2 was just outside the swanky restaurant. So you had sopping wet, stranded skiers and boarders dripping on the floorboards as we waited for hot chocolate and sandwiches along with very nicely dressed people going to the gourmet restaurant. I, for one, found the whole thing highly amusing. I’m not sure if the gourmet diners did or not.
However, as we waited and waited for our food and hot chocolate (let’s not forget that), I was getting more and more antsy about the bus. The plan was to take our stuff over close to the bus stop and eat while we waited. However, when we finally got our (muy expensive) food and hustled back over to the bus, we were just in time to see people getting back on the bus. So at this point, I knew that I not only got to have wet boots all the way down the canyon, but I got to make the curvy ride back home while standing at the front of the bus holding hot soup and Thing 1’s sandwich. Bonus! (Thing 1 managed to hold onto the hot chocolate. This was very helpful, but ensured that there would be no chocolate for me.)
Part way down the canyon, we became aware of a ruckus at the back end of the bus, which became louder and louder. Various teenage boys were making exclamations of some sort, which we at first did not understand. The approximately 3 other female sardines on the bus and I exchanged raised eyebrow looks. And then we heard something to the effect of, “He’s going to hurl!”
Apparently, one of the sardines had overfilled his stomach during the bus break and wasn’t doing so well now with the heated, packed bus hurtling down the mountain roads. The other woman at the front of the bus and I scrambled to get a sick bag to pass back to the kid in trouble while his friends all told their comrade with the helmet cam to start filming. Apparently, they thought this would make a great video to post on YouTube. In fact, one of the friends of the sick kid started going on loudly about how this was the best day of the sick kids’ life, pointing out that he got to ride the mountain all day and then get epicly sick on the bus ride home. I felt pretty sure the kid would have better days and said they should leave him alone to be sick in peace. You know, I am such a mom and all. And shouldn't being sick in peace be an inalienable right, or something?
But, alas, the sick bag didn’t make it back in time, and suddenly Thing 1 and I were very grateful for our late arrival and forced standing position at the very front of the bus. Yes, sometimes you’re lucky even when you think you aren’t.
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