Tuesday, March 29, 2005

If this is wrong, baby, I don't want to be right.

Well, let's see if I can write about half the things I thought I wanted to write about today before I go to sleep.

Yesterday sucked, as I think I mentioned.

Today on the other hand, I was woken up by the sweet sweet sound of Tim's voice (that sounds a little weird, but I have a standing request in with him for a wakeup visit whenever there is more than 10cm of new snow, so when I work out that my dreams haven't been invaded by disembodied Australian voices and realise that I should wake up because there's fresh snow, I am happy.

Anyway, I get on about the seventh chair, and after a few stops and starts we make it to the top. Everyone dismounts, stoked that we've got some very light snow on top of the heavier stuff we had earlier this week. I sit down and buckle in.

Or at least I try to. Somewhere between finishing riding on Sunday and trying to strap in on Tuesday, the ratchet / buckle for the ankle strap on my back binding broke / fell off.


I felt like Charlie Brown right after Lucy yanks the football away. I thought I was going to get something good, and then BAM! It was ripped from my grasp when I was so close I could smell it.

I strap my toes in, and proceed to ride down the cat track (the shamefully signposted "easiest way down"). This is very frustrating, but I get down and head into the crowded rentals / repairs shop.

The repair guy puts a replacement ratchet on for me, and it costs $8. Tragedy! I don't have any money (I kinda used my jacket semi-emergency $20 for necessities like noodles, frozen corn, and cereal with marshmallow bits in it). I'm getting out my season pass, to use as an IOU, when the lady behind me in the line offers to pay for it.

I owe some serious KITS (KIndness To Strangers) to the world. Sure, $8 isn't much - an hours work for me at the salt mine (which has changed its mind again about my employment status - seriously, my job situation is as variable as a variable thing in an indecisive mood). Less for most middle aged people with real jobs. It's even less for a Calgreedian (rich people from, well, that's pretty obvious, who buy up vast tracts of ski towns for weekend homes). But that's not the point, it was a totally uncalled for and gratuitous act of niceness.

It made my day a lot better. Not just because I got to ride, but because it gave a boost to my opinion of human nature.

So I'd like to offer a big Thank You to the repair-shop-line-lady, and I guess I owe someone, somewhere, somewhen.

The rest of the day was mostly beautiful soft snow. As always, tracked out fast, but if you're willing to hike, and head into the trees, there were always a few fresh turns to be had. The high traffic areas on the lower mountain (cat tracks out from the good stuff) were kinda yucky, and getting worse as the day went on,

Work on the other hand started off yucky and got worse. The hotel is too warm, the work is all the bad parts of housekeeping and none of the good parts, etc, etc. I dislike my job, and really hope I get replaced / released again (since I'm only getting 2 hours a night, it's not a huge loss to my back pocket).
And now it's bed time since the word is that they will open the bowls tomorrow, and even if they don't, it's snowing a little, so it will still be fun.

Wow. whos the lucky guy getting free repairs and new snow in one day.... the real question that could stop or start a few civil slope wars is...was the lady-behind-in-line a boarder or skier... a answer the whole world needs to know... i'm still ashamed that you complain about not-so-crap snow, as your abviously forgeting your routes and need to be reminded that we humble people in the north island of nz have to contend with crap snow if we are lucky!!! or go practice rails inside a big freezer. Enjoy it while you can.
Almost certainly a skier!

Of course, you now know that it ain't over till the fat lady sings, so hide the piano keys, fat ladies, unlike kind skiers, are always accompanied by pianos ;)
Post a Comment

<< Home

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?