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Dear Sick,
That reminds me of a really funny story. I went skiing last year for the first time, with some friends that loaned me skis. So we’re up at the top of the bunny slope, you know, the hill for beginners, and there are a couple of guys standing around offering lessons for fifty dollars. I thought to myself, fifty dollars is a lot of money. I could restock my makeup case for that much. Well, the basic stuff, anyway. There’s no way I’m giving this guy 50 bucks so he can stare at me for half an hour like he’s already doing. So I said no, I already knew how and gave myself just a little push to get started.
That’s when I found out those pole thingies you hold in your hand are for steering, not stopping, like I thought. I couldn’t figure out how to stop, and I just kept going faster. I remembered what somebody said about turning your skiis in a certain direction, or crossing them or something, so I tried crossing them, and that’s when I left the ground. As I was sailing through the air end over end, the thought occurred to me how little money fifty dollars really was. An infinitesimal amount. Nothing really. I rolled for what seemed like forever, and when I finally stopped, there was a group of girls standing there laughing at me. I gave Becky the fifty dollars to super glue their luggage to their car.
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