7 Rules for How NOT to Ski

With winter so close, who isn't thinking of white powder, steep hills, sledding, and skiing?

In a word, me.

Skiing - what horrific memories that word conjures for me. I can honestly say that NOBODY in the history of modern or even prehistoric civilization has EVER had an experience quite like mine. You may have broken your leg or found yourself straddling a tree, but I'll bet your worst story about your worst skiing experience doesn't come close to mine.

Because of my experience, I feel qualified to share the rules of how NOT to ski by relating to you the rules I learned on my one - and only - skiing expedition.

Rule #1 Never go skiing with your boyfriend when he invites his future girlfriend to tag along.

I was looking forward to my date with Dr. Ignorant (not his real name). He had planned for us a ski trip to Alpine Valley in Wisconsin. I had never been skiing so I was excited to learn a new skill.

Because I would have to pass his place on the way to Wisconsin, I volunteered to drive to Dr. Ignorant's Chicago loft from my suburban location to save him a trip. He would drive the rest of the way.

His next door neighbor, Ignoramus (not her real name), whose loft shared a wall with his, had just broken up with her boyfriend, so my boyfriend, in his most sheepish voice sighed, "I feel so bad for her. Do you mind if she tags along?"

I should have said yes, and I most certainly should have balked when they threw me into the back seat while they conversed the ENTIRE trip without including me even once in their conversation.

But I didn't. I didn't find my voice until I was much older.

Rule #2 If you have feet too small for adult skis and you don't want to kill somebody, don't ski.

The three of us walked into the ski shop to rent skis for me. They had their own. How convenient. One problem - my feet were too small for the adult ski shoes. So, after we found a pair of children's ski shoes, which fit only inside children's skis, we took off to the hills where I was given this instruction: When you have to change direction, just turn your ankles into the direction you want to ski. Sounds easy, doesn't it?

And maybe it is - for everybody else.

Rule #3 If you take things too literally, don't ski.

We stood next to a rope: my boyfriend, his future girlfriend, and me. Of course, I didn't know she would become his future girlfriend when I agreed that she could "tag along," but there we were.

"Don't grab onto the rope right away," Dr. Ignorant commanded.

So I stood there watching the rope, waited a respectful period of time, and latched on. The snow-covered ground slapped me in the face with such force, I thought I had fallen into a sheet of ice.

What he should have said was, "Get a FEEL for the rope," not "wait to grab onto it." Some people just don't know how to give proper directions.

Rule #4 Bunny hills can be dangerous.

My next journey through the slopes should have won a "most amazing video" contest if video cameras had been around back then and somebody had been taping me. As a result of the great Dr. Ignorant's advice, I was seething after following his advice about the upcoming dip. In his defense, I may have melted the ice with my growing hatred for the man, but his tutelage combined with his adoring neighbor left me cold. Yes, you can be seething and cold at the same time.

"GIVE with the dip. BEND INTO the dip. FLOW with the dip."

So, after I got used to getting the FEEL for the rope, I saw the dip ahead, and, following directions, I GAVE with the dip and I BENDED INTO the dip. And my legs flew up and backwards over the top of my head in a complete 360 degree rotation where as I crashed butt first INSIDE the dip.

How embarrassing. Dr. Ignorant and future girlfriend Ignoramus were mortified. And I'm sure that what follows in Rule #5 is directly correlated to the combined humiliation they both felt at my unintended acrobatic stunt.

Rule #5 Ski lifts end with a drop off.

"OK, climb in."

What? What?

Too late. The lift was behind me and suddenly I was seated on the lift while Dr. Ignorant and Future Girlfriend Ignoramus waved goodbye and said, "We'll meet you later."

What? What?

They needed more challenging hills, they sneered, so they left me alone to master the bunny. I would have to catch up with them later.

Rule #6 When you are an adult wearing children's skis, terrible things can happen.

I had no choice but to jump off the lift. Well, I guess I could have ridden it for the rest of the day until Dr. Ignorant and Ignoramus looked for me. And when I didn't show up at the lodge, they might have tried to rescue me. Maybe not. Maybe they would have forgotten me and I would have been stuck in Alpine Valley until somebody offered to drive me back to Chicago. But I didn't see any other way off the lift, so I closed my eyes and jumped.

On my way down the hill, I remembered the instructions I was told when I first put on the skis - "When you have to change direction, just turn your ankles into the direction you want to ski."

Picture for a moment, if you will, a child around the age of 9. She wears a size 3 shoe. Now take that child and stretch her to almost five feet, seven inches tall. Do you know what happens to the body of a woman wearing children's ski shoes? The ankles rise above the shoes. And when that happens, this happens:

After jumping off the ski lift, I went STRAIGHT down the hill, where I saw, at the bottom of the hill, a little child who had fallen and whose buddy had gone back to rescue him. They were directly in my path.

I turned my body into the direction I wanted to turn, first to the left, then to the right, then to the left again, and again to the right, in frantic panic mode, my skis oblivious to my body's commands. My whole body was turned practically backward. I looked like a swizzle stick. But nothing worked and I headed toward inevitable disaster.

In the end, I could think of only one thing to do - scream!

"I'M GOING TO HIT YOU!"

The boys turned around to see a speeding bullet racing toward them at lightening speed. They both held their arms over their heads, which helped to buffer my fall on top of them. We sat in a pile of tangled skis as I explained how impossible it was for me to turn and how sorry I was.

They rolled their eyes and thanked God that what they thought was their lives flashing before their eyes was actually only a human. I hung my head in shame and returned to the lodge.

Rule #7 Bring some form of entertainment with you when you visit a ski lodge.

In the days before cell phones and laptops, my wait was agonizing. After what seemed at eternity, Dr. Ignorant and Future Girlfriend Ignoramus returned. He probably proposed to her on the slopes for all I know. But my day was over and I could go home. Well, not quite. I still had to endure the excruciating ride from Wisconsin to THEIR lofts in Chicago.

The ride home from their lofts was enjoyable, though. I got to sit in the front seat and talk to myself.

AFTER WORD: I ran into Dr. Ignorant years after that memorable ski trip when I had to bring one of my children to the emergency room. I figured out that he had used me to show his next door neighbor how attractive other people thought he was. They never invited me to their wedding. They knocked down the wall between their lofts so they would have one of most beautiful lofts in Chicago. He still practices medicine. I have never again had a desire to ski.