Ski School: What You Can Expect when Learning to Ski This Winter
The First Day…
During your first day of ski school, you’ll not only learn which sides of the skis go up, you’ll have an opportunity to meet other men and women from all walks of life who, too, have swapped their only two weeks of vacation, relaxing on a beach with the kids, for an opportunity to stand in a puddle of slush in the middle of December.
One of the first things your instructor will do is introduce himself to you and give everyone in the class an opportunity to do the same. Starting off at the end is Nandakishor. Then there’s Charulekha, Dvir, Nitzan, Laake, Sabat, Velvel, Yolanda, Orielle, followed by Esra, Tsidhqiyah, Yehudah and finally Marie-Felicienne, Kareem and Bill. Fine, now that we’re all acquainted, let’s talk about the equipment.
Renting your ski equipment…
In the “old days”, you’d be fitted for skis by raising your arm above your head while the rental shop technician leaned a pair of beat up hickory skis against your hand. If you could touch the tip of the skis, they were too short and he’d return with a longer pair. Today, you’ll start out with skis that barely come to your waist. The idea being that the shorter the skis, the faster you’ll begin to enjoy yourself and less likely you’ll get into a knock-down, drag-out fight with your husband, pack your bags and fly home, alone.
Ski Boots have also come a long way. In the mid-sixties when skiing really took off in the States, ski boots were fairly tolerable, leather contraptions that came halfway up to your ankles. True, they didn’t offer much in the way of support, but they were comfortable. Well, that’s all changed. Modern day ski boots are now constructed of space-age plastics that are meant to squeeze your foot tighter than a kielbasa in a hot dog bun. But, they do help you to ski better.
The bindings have changed, too. Before the invention of modern, multi-release binding systems, the technician would test the settings by asking you to stand in your skis with your boots on, while he whacked at your toes with a sledge hammer. You didn’t want those babies coming out too early!
Heading up the mountain…
Once all of you have had a chance to check out your equipment, your instructor will give you one last opportunity to get a drink of water and use the restroom before heading up the mountain. Take advantage of this break. It’s probably the last time that you’ll walk without a limp; or at least until the blood blisters heal and your toe nails begin to grow back.
Before you actually start sliding on the snow, your instructor will take you through a series of drills meant to help you adapt to your new equipment. He’ll usually begin by asking you to walk around on the snow in a circle with your skis on, climb uphill sideways, learn to turn around, herringbone uphill and go pick up his dry cleaning. The usual stuff.
After the first hour, don’t be surprised if half of your class has dropped out due to fatigue, nose bleeds, dehydration, high altitude pulmonary edema or some other lame excuse like needing to pick up a vomiting kid from the nursery. Try not to let that discourage you. It just means that your instructor will get to spend more time correcting your technique and zeroing in on your character defects in front of the remnants of the class.
A little lunch…
By the time that you’ve finally figured out how to slide forward a few painful feet, it’ll probably be time to break for lunch. Modern ski resorts now offer a vast menu of appetizing dishes such as cheeseburgers and French fries baked for hours under banks of heat lamps, soups and chili’s made with some unidentifiable mammal, room-temperature salad bars, diluted sodas and Styrofoam cups filled with instant Sanka. After a nutritious lunch, it’ll be time to hit the slopes again.
It’s perfectly normal to “forget” the finer points of what you learned earlier in the morning. So, to refresh your memory, your instructor will have you walk uphill for about an hour to get re-acclimated with your ski equipment. After wringing out the sweat from your turtleneck, it’ll be time to make your first run.
Green, black and blue…
Most ski runs at American resorts are rated with a green circle, a blue square or a black diamond. The green circle means that water will barely run downhill on it. Green runs can be found all over the mountain, including the first one you encountered in the parking lot. After you’ve mastered your first green run and are able to carry a loaded cafeteria tray in your ski boots, you’re ready for a blue run.
Blue runs are meant to deceive you into thinking that you’ve actually made some progress after the thousands of dollars you’ve blown in ski school. Rated more difficult than the green runs, blue runs will challenge you and let you feel the exhilaration of the wind in your hair and the feeling of your parka being slowly shredded from your backside as you careen into a stand of Aspens. Congratulations, you’re skiing!
After ten or fifteen more years of lessons, you’ll be ready to plunge down your first black diamond run. Black diamond runs usually have entertaining names like “Cataclysm”, “Root Canal”, “Pucker Up”, “Widow Maker” or “Spleen Buster” characterized by all of the students that have preceded you on the way to the Medical Center. But you’re ready, aren’t you?
Your instructor will discuss with your class various approaches on how to get down a black diamond run. One suggestion is to take a deep breath and charge down the slope below. You can exhale when you reach the parking lot. Another approach is to count backwards from 11,576 before pushing off, or until all of the snow has melted in the spring. But by far, the most effective technique is using the “buddy system”. Using the buddy system, you sneak up behind one of the other students and roll into the back of their knees, sending them screaming down the run on their backside. This has proven to be extremely effective, although it is not recommended for use with your wife, boyfriend or the guy who’s got the keys to the car.
Wrapping up the day…
At the end of the day, your instructor will probably invite the two of you who’ve survived, out for a drink. If one of you is a good looking blonde, you can count on it. While screaming at the top of your lungs over ear-splitting garage music, you’ll get a chance to review the day’s progress as you inhale suffocating cigarette smoke from a jam-packed bar. You’ll regale the others with your adventures, while some petty thief is liberating your skis from the ski rack outside.
As the sun slowly slides behind the mountains, you and your friends will bid adieu to your instructor and begin your long drive back to the city, just as the Highway Patrol is setting up sobriety checkpoints meant to snag city-slickers on their way home. Another perfect day.
