Sherpa services

Feb 2, 2009

 

Sherpa services aren’t what they used to be.  Apparently Paula believes there should be some sort of equality in the way things are carried from the car to the ski lodge.  I know this because she says things like, “I’ll get the back pack and the skis if you’ll carry the boots and the bag” even though she is perfectly capable of carrying all of it if she was willing to make two trips.  

 

We’ve had other misunderstandings which have required clarification.  For example, there is only one backpack for a reason.  That reason is that only one of us will be carrying it and there are numerous reasons as to why it couldn’t possibly be me. One of the reasons is because I am the one who needs access to its contents on the most frequent basis.  Glasses, lip balm, water, sun screen, peanut butter and jelly sandwich, snickers bar, more lip balm, tissues, binoculars, face mask, hat on, hat off, spring gloves, more lip balm, power bar, hand warmers…you get the picture.  I do most of this exchanging on the lift chair so it doesn’t interfere with skiing time.  Of course this means that Paula is required to sit sideways so that I have access to the backpack. 

 

One thing in particular that I need to exchange often is my sunglasses for my goggles and visa versa depending on the time of day, the conditions and the run we’ve selected.  I keep my glasses in the top compartment of the backpack and when I want to make the exchange I simply strap my goggles to the outside of the backpack and let them dangle a bit. 

 

Now, when Paula is doing her part and sitting sideways there is no problem.  During one fateful ride up to the top, she whimsically assumed that she could sit back and relax on the chair lift like all of the other skiers, since she had faithfully performed all of her other duties as the backpack carrier.  She was wrong.  

 

Unbeknownst to her, when she sat back, the goggles strapped to the backpack became lodged between the slats in the back of the chair and twisted sideways for a secure lock in.  Since there was no contingency plan for this error, when Paula stepped off the lift, her backpack did not.  Within seconds she was dangling off the side of the mountain, dragged around by the carousel, hanging by the straps of the goggles.  

 

Of course, I was doing my part.  I was flailing my arms in the air, yelling to the lift operator, “Shut down the lift! Shut down the lift!!”   What I had forgotten was that it was Saturday morning, the morning after a 21 year old Friday night.  And we all know that ski lift operators, who answer only to the name “Dude”, have a diminished reactionary response time on Saturday mornings. So, there was no way in heaven he was going to wake up from his hang over and notice that there was a person dangling from my goggles, whom, as angelic as she is, was not going to sprout wings. 

 

Seconds from death, and I’m talking about me, I immediately moved into action by tackling the nearest 80 year old skier.  While I was wrestling his nitro pills from his oxygen pack, some guy getting off the chair lift behind Paula grabbed her and saved her from plummeting to her death.  Show off.   

 

Sometimes, when it feels like I’m dangling from my own goggle straps, not certain if they will hold long enough for me to set my feet on solid ground again, I remember my friends are on the chair lift behind me.  Even if I don’t know them yet. 

 

Grateful and faithful…Rosalie