The Former Traveling Spotlight

The tales of a "30" something gay former stand-up comic living in NYC who is searching for his soul mate or soul...which ever comes first.

Monday, January 22, 2007

Payback...A Real Bitch

Ever see those science fiction shows where the superhero gets a bus thrown at him? Well yesterday I was hit by a bus. At least I feel like I was, as my body has the soreness you can only feel after being jarred and thrown like a superhero in an apocalyptic battle. But I didn't get these bruises and injuries from a bus, but rather from a piece of wood. One long piece of wood strapped to my legs. I went snowboarding.

See that smile on my face? It didn't last all day. In fact, it didn't come back until we finished and turned in the rental equipment.

The day started with my clock going off at 4:15 am. Yes...AM...as in "Any Man getting up this early is a fool!" I showered and dressed and hailed a taxi to take me to Penn Station, where the group bus would pick us up. 30 bleary eyed queens and one lesbian (who lamented her odds of getting laid that day) waited patiently for the bus' arrival to take us on a ski or snowboard adventure for the day. Upon arrival, we all boarded with "beginners in the back, intermediates in the middle, and experts in the front." Thus, I was forced to sit in the back of the bus. I was being humbled and I hadn't even got to the slopes yet! Where's Rosa Parks when I needed her?

I've been skiing since I was 11 years old. By the time I was 20, I was teaching it. It was a way to pay college bills, and still participate in the sport I loved. Each Saturday, I would get a class of beginners. Kids were the most fun, and the easiest to teach. The hardest thing was keeping them focused with their short attention spans. Everything had to be a game, like who will turn the most down this run? or lets make pizza pies down the hill! Adults were a bit more difficult. They are afraid of getting hurt, or worse...embarrassed. I would walk up to an adult group and immediately would get the looks of despair from the 40 year olds. You could read in their eyes the despair of realizing that I was 1/2 their age.

Yesterday, my snowboarding instructor was only 16. I wanted to ask him if he knew how to drive yet. For two hours, he took three of us through the basics of how to turn right and left, how to strap the damn thing to our legs, and how to survive our first few runs.

I'm a skier, and a fairly good one at that. I'm rusty, but their is rarely any terrain I wouldn't consider attempting. "Bunny hills" are for those that aren't confident. I like the steeps, and moguls. Somehow, on a snowboard, the bunny hill was transformed into the "cliff of death!" People in front us would start their run and disappear...with only their screams remaining. I considered taking off the board and walking down to the rental office to switch to skis.

Our instructor had other ideas, and told the three of us to strap our other leg onto the board. I did, and fell down on my ass. Pain traveled up from the tailbone all the way to my molar teeth (a very common theme for the day). I sat there stunned and attempted to get back up. Rolling back up onto my feet, I fell forward onto my face (another common theme of the day). My third attempt of getting to a standing position finally got me up ready to go...only to travel 5 feet before falling on my ass...yet again.

As we approached the bottom of the hill, our instructor said "Dude, you totally shredded that last J-turn! Excellent!". I was ashamed to admit I was trying to go straight at the time, and just took the compliment. At that point, the three queens were set off on their own to conquer the bunny slopes! That...or get conquered.

I honestly thought I was the worst of the three of us, until one of my fellow newbies lost control during the middle of the run. Straight down the hill his snowboard went, continuously picking up speed, as he kept trying to turn. Unfortunately skiers turn by leaning left or right...not forwards or backwards. He kept leaning left (which was downhill) and just kept increasing speed.

Now in an ideal world, he would have finally given up and just fallen forward, but this poor man had fallen so many times that merely sitting down caused enough pain to question the validity of this sport. Instead he squat near the ground and attempted to use his hands to slow his descent. This was his biggest mistake. By looking at his hands, he didn't notice that he was traveling at a significant pace in a direct course for the lift line. He looked downhill with 20 yards to go before screaming a warning at those in front of him. Two people dove out of his way as he went through the lift line, over a small embankment and into the parking lot before coming to a complete stop. He gave a whole new meaning to the phrase, "Screaming Queen".

Realizing that his life had been threatened...he took off the board and walked into the lodge, where he began drinking. Two of us remained, but within an hour we had all retired our snowboarding equipment. We all plan on going back to the mountain again...but all three of us think the next time it will be as God intended...with a piece of wood strapped to each foot.

That being said...I'm not quitting yet...just letting the hairline tailbone fractures heal.

Patrick - 1:27 PM -