Thursday, September 01, 2005

Skinny Pimp Skiing (A Phat History Lesson)

In Honor of Skinny Pimp, who has finally gotten in contact with me, I’m going to write about the first time I ever went snow skiing.

So there I was, no sh**, knees deep in snow in Bavaria. One day me, Skinny Pimp, and a soldier named Fish decided to take advantage of a long weekend and go skiing. I come from Alabama and have no experience with snow much less skiing and Skinny Pimp is from Florida, so has even less than I do. Fish swears to us it’s easy and promises to teach us when we get down to the slopes. We hop into the car and head off down to the German/Austrian border on a nice Friday morning. We get there to the Army hotel and recreation center and get our skis rented and sign up for the bus ride to the slopes. The next morning we’re off with a bunch of families on our way to go skiing.

I would like to describe the way we were dressed as it’s kind of humorous. They rent us these ski suits that are dark blue with AMWR written all over them. Now I’m wearing these dark blue ski pants and my own ski jacket. Fish has his own gear and doesn’t wear any of that gay ski apparel and Skinny Pimp is decked out in all AMWR ski equipment, which sort of made it look like that he shopped at the salvation army for his skiing gear. So there we were three ragtag skiers looking to go down any hill.

The first challenge was the T bar. Basically it’s a rope with that drags you up the hill. Fish’s first lesson was just keeping your skis straight and lean back into it. It worked for me but we lost Skinny Pimp half way up the hill. I think he might have walked the rest of the way, but I’m not sure because I was concentrating pretty hard on staying vertical myself. Finally, everybody makes it to the top of the hill and it’s time for our first ski lesson, which also turns out to be our last. I’ll give it to you almost word for word.

Fish: “Alright to slow down, point the ski tips together but don’t let them cross. To turn right, lift your right leg. To turn left, lift you left leg. O.k. Go!

That was pretty much all that Fish explained to us before we set off down the hill. I probably ended up on my back or face a dozen times within the first 200 ft. Fish was already on his way back up the hill when me and Skinny Pimp were half way down the hill. On the first trip down the slope I got to the point where I could go about 100 yards without falling, but now I had a new and more dangerous problem. I couldn’t stop. You see, the line for the T bar was at the bottom of the hill and I had finally built up some speed. I’m barreling towards this line and, being the hero that I am, have to dump myself into the snow to keep from killing people. (Have I ever told you guys how small and fragile Germans look?) I pick my self up and make sure I take what pride I have left and get back on the T bar. Luckily, Skinny Pimp has a more impressive explosion at the bottom of the hill than I do, so people stop staring at me and become fixated on the 6’ 7” 175 bean pole that just had all his ski equipment go in different directions at the bottom of the hill.
This was only the first of many wrecks.
Will be continued.


At 9:45 AM, Anonymous Fitch said...

That's funny, I started skiing when I was 3 y/o. So I can't entirely relate.

At 11:48 PM, Blogger SeanS said...

If man were meant to ski, God would have put more padding on our ass.

At 6:28 PM, Anonymous Amber said...

ROTFL.... I can only picture this...

Now I can bust his balls about getting on my case when I was doing the same falling down the hill motion snowboarding.

Hee hee hee....


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