Puma Theory: 1
Regular dating: 0
Puma Theory: 1
I went skiing a few weekends ago. No, not out west; as you may recall we went to Snowbird in Utah for a long weekend last February. Oh, the memories. This time I figured I’d get some practice in locally at Whitetail in Pennsylvania, in preparation for another trip out west at some point this winter. In attendance were myself, sister Jean, her boyfriend Dave, Wheels (Tier II Asian), and newbie to the blog, Paul. A few notable happenings occurred, summarized below.
In an unexpected twist of pure joy, my friend Hung (Tier I) decided to come along at the last minute. My lifelong dream is to ski with Hung. Just knowing his anything goes, risky personality, I knew that watching him ski would be hilarious. Well, he lived up to the hype. We were skiing some moguls at one point, and Dave was trying to teach Hung how to better maneuver them. Hung did a run, but apparently he wasn’t giving it his best effort for Dave’s tutorial. So he proclaims…
Wait, let me put my shit into it.
Meaning, let me give it my all and watch this. Well, Hung put his shit into it and went flailing wildly only to take a hard fall. We all agreed that Hung should not put his shit into it moving forward. In fact, since that time, he has gone skiing again and has managed to dislocate his shoulder with the possibility of the bone being chipped. This is what I love about Hung. Him putting his shit into it.
The Lift Incident
There are five of us on the “difficult” side of the mountain, where a double black diamond seems like a blue after having skied Snowbird. But nonetheless, Dave, Jean, and Paul are on the ski chair in front of us at the lift. Hung and I are about to board the lift, which is a four seater. Something must have gotten lost in translation, because I heard the ski attendant direct us to let the couple in front of Hung and I go on their own chair. Well, Hung heard differently, and told me to hurry up and board the chair along with the couple in front of us. Clearly, the couple heard the same thing I did, because as I came up to the chair entirely too late, the woman somehow ended up on my lap as the chair was lifting from the ground.
At this point, she’s yelling for the ski attendant to stop the chair. My attempts to push her off of my lap and onto the seat next to me so we could go happily on our way up the mountain were not working. She was making every attempt to get off of the chair. Somehow, this ended up in a shouting match between Hung and the woman, that went something like this:
Woman: Get off of me! Get me off this thing!!!
Hung: Calm down lady, we’re just trying to get up the mountain.
Woman: Get off me! Let me down!! What are you people DOING??!!
Sara: Sorry, we didn’t mean it.
Woman, screaming wildly: What are you doing!??! Get me off this chair! You people are crazy!
Hung: DON’T YOU RAISE YOUR VOICE AT ME.
Woman, losing control: Don’t you talk to me that way! These people are crazy! Let me down!!!
Sara: Sorry, we didn’t mean it.
Hung: YOU DON’T TALK TO ME THAT WAY!!! YOU ARE THE CRAZY ONE.
Husband: What are you doing to my wife?
Sara: Sorry, we didn’t do it on purpose.
Woman: Stop this chair! I’m not riding up with them. I’m leaving!
Hung: GOOD RIDDANCE! (I would not want to get on Hung’s bad side.)
Chair stops. Woman and husband depart in fits of rage, and Hung and I are left going up the mountain on the four seater chair by ourselves. I look up to see Dave, Jean, and Paul on the chair in front of us…they had witnessed the whole thing and were really enjoying themselves, laughing hysterically. What just happened?
It’s not like I wanted this woman on my lap. Yet, she was acting as though we did it on purpose. Seriously, lady? Yes, I want you to ride on my lap on the chair lift up the entire mountain. I did in fact get on the lift behind you on purpose, so that you could ride on my lap. Little joyride up the mountain for me.
In summary, it was just another day on the slopes for us. Memorable for sure, and it may be difficult to top the remainder of the season. However, quick note to self for next time: try to get on the lift next to everyone as instructed and not directly behind someone. Readers, take heed.
Someone found my blog by googling “fan in my condo wakes me up.” I found this ironic considering my fan is the only thing that helps me sleep. Sometimes I wonder what I would do without my beloved fan. How would I sleep through that dreaded hacking cough next door or the car alarms wreaking havoc outside my front window? I am proud to be a Fan of Fans. And with that, I leave with you my fan:
Have a restful sleep tonight everyone,
**I’m sorry that I didn’t clarify. Fans of fans use their fans for white noise to block out any sudden loud sounds that would ordinarily wake one up, not the wind factor.**
Theoretically, I hear that women in their 30’s who date men in their 20’s works well, in a number of ways. Can anyone testify to this novel concept?