To this day I solemnly swear that I will never like skiing. As much as someone tells of the rush they feel as they glide down or the feeling they get as they soar up in the air in a ski lift, I will never go skiing again.
Let me paint the scene for you. It was five years ago and I had begged my parents for years to go skiing. After years of hearing the hype of skiing at Vail, the Alps and Okemo, I was going to explode if I didn’t go skiing.
One Saturday morning, out of the blue, my parents offered to take me to Butternut Ski Resort and I was ecstatic.
After a two hour drive, and an even longer wait in line to receive my skis, I was finally ready to hit the slopes, and quite literally, my dreams were coming true.
The skis touched the ground and the wait was over.
The views were promising as I made my way up the ski lift but the second I started skidding down the mountain, I was going way too fast to even take in the views.
Unsure of how to even position the skis, I zipped down the mountain as the cold wind whipped my face. I was truly a hot mess on the mountain.
I can’t even begin to comprehend the phrase leisurely ski because there was nothing leisurely about it. My nerves were at an all time high as skiers veered around.
Luckily I made it safely down the mountain but I can promise you that I won’t be making my way back up it anytime soon.
So it turns out all the hype for skiing wasn’t so worth it.
For me, there wasn’t any appeal in skiing down an icy and bleak mountain to just go back up it again.
As Christmas break approaches and people head off on their ski vacations to Vermont, Colorado or even somewhere close by, I still can’t see the appeal of these trips where they spend between 5 and 7 hours freezing in the cold.
People may love ski trips, but I’ll take sitting on the beach, drinking a virgin piña colada any day.