Some Ass Over Tea Kettle Memories

I can't even remember the last time I went skiing/boarding; all I know is there is a dry, rusty snowboard sitting angrily in my dad's cold cellar in Guelph and the foam around my goggles has started to crumble.  But with Toronto's recent snowmagedon, today's perfect weather, and --most importantly-- a free day pass with gear rentals (sorry cellar-captive board), we rented a car and headed to Mansfield to see if our knees were too old to handle a day on the hills.  Despite a few falls, I am happy to discover that snowboarding is just like riding a bicycle...only in that it all comes back easily, otherwise the two have absolutely nothing in common.

Being on the hill lead me to recall a couple fond skiing/boarding memories of yonder, which I'd like to share with anyone who stumbles upon my blog:


Story One - 
A leading cause as to how my friends and I caught the skiing bug in the first place, was back in middle school when our math teacher formed a Skiing Club.  Looking back now, it was a brilliant tactical maneuver on both his and our parts.  He was able indulge a personal passion and veneer it as extra curricular participation, all while skipping work for a day every three weeks during the winter.  Genius!  We were able to skip a day of school every three weeks during the winter months and mask it off as school spirit...and get exercise, learn a new sport, blah blah blah...but mostly skip school.  All that, plus my mom used to buy me a litre bottle of the sparkling flavoured water every time I went on a ski trip, so that was pretty special too.

On one of these such trips the skiing conditions were not so great, and Laurie had just passed her skills test to have free run of the park.  Sandra, Jackie and I decided that trial by fire was in order, and we led her straight to one of the black diamond runs.  Not only was the hill steep and covered in moguls, but unbeknownst to us it was also layered in a respectable sheet of ice.  We charged down that hill the way that only fearless tweens can, and that sheet of ice reached out and sucker punched Laurie.  Sandra stayed with her, but Jackie and I were at the bottom of the hill before we realized that she was hurt, and rushed back up to 'rescue' her.  The ice went for round two and tried to give us the same treatment it bestowed upon Laurie.  We both went ass over tea kettle and nearly took her out bowling ball style.  Luckily, our aim was as good as our skiing and we managed to avoid damaging her any further.  That trip ended with Laurie being put in a body bag and snowmobiled to the first aid room.  She was later found to have torn her ACL and needed to be on crutches for months afterwards.

Story Two - 
My second time ever snowboarding was at Lake Louise, because it seems I like punishment.  I rose to the occasion and was able to follow my born-in-Alberta friend Dale on nearly all the runs that day.  So impressed with my new found ability, he decided it would be a great denouement for our last run to be from the top of the mountain.  From that peak we'd be able to see all the mountains and nearly touch the sun.  Sounded like a good plan.

We took the ski lift for a good 15 minutes to what I thought was the top of the mountain, but it was actually only as far as the ski lift was capable of going.  From there we still had to board a t-bar and travel damn near vertically up the precipice.  Now, I know you're like "So what? They use t-bars on bunny hills", but to you I say using a t-bar on a snowboard is more difficult than using it on skis since you have to face sideways.  Furthermore, using a t-bar to go up an unreasonably steep slop is bloody hard on your muscles, particularly after a whole day of 'sink or swim' snowboarding.  And finally, to ice the damned cake, using a t-bar at the end of the day after a ton of people before you have carved ruts into the route with their skiis is nearly impossible.  I managed to get a third of the way up to the top of the mountain when my board caught a rut and my wussy arms couldn't re-balance me.  I. Just. Couldn't. Hang. On. Any. Longer.

So I bailed, but with the last of my energy I bailed to the side so as not to take out nearly every single person behind me.  Except for Dale.  He dove out of line in hopes of literally saving my neck, but instead, I just crashed into him and he joined my human snowball.

We flipped ass over tea kettle, picking up speed with our snowboards ratcheted to our feet, flailing all over.  The people in the line behind us were wide eyed and gasping in horror as we tumbled all the way back to the top of the chair lift.  Again, I know you're thinking "Big deal, I used to roll down hills all the time when I was a kid", but to you I say this hill was not a hill, it was a freaking MOUNTAIN.  And we tumbled with planks of metal rimmed wood strapped to our feet in a double human snowball forever...kilometres...hours...DAYS!  We were motion sick, bruised and disoriented when we finally stopped, and it's only by the grace of God that neither of us were broken or missing any teeth.  We called it a day after that.

Actually wait...I guess that's why I haven't been snowboarding in years.

Julie's Birthday Adventure - Age 30 edition

For my 30th Birthday Adventure, I knew I had to do my best Adventure yet.  30 is kind of a big deal and is the age where people need to start proving that they're still young, hip and with it (dukka dukka dukka dukka). Plus, it was more motivation to do something awesome that I wouldn't have otherwise been able to muster up the nerve for.

Ergo, Sky Diving.

I've always been open-minded about sky diving, but not exactly chomping at the bit to do it. Everyone I know who has gone has told me that it was one of the more thrilling experiences of their life and how free falling is actually very peaceful and serene.


I disagree.  Here is my account of the happenings on Saturday August 25th, at the Parachute School of Toronto.

*****

We had mustered up a group of 10 people to go Sky Diving for my Birthday Adventure.  We arrived for our 3pm appointment and, as per the guy on the phone, had anticipated 3-4 hours of total sky dive ritual - perhaps including some sort of adrenaline inducing chant to pump us up.  Instead, we signed some paperwork while a video played in the background, were told that our first group was to be on the plane in 20 minutes, and then were ushered into their garage to get fitted with a harness while my jump escort Garrett tells me to put my head back and starfish as we jump out of the plane.  That was about it.  To be fair, I guess 'falling' is a pretty self-explanatory activity, especially when you're jumping tandem...but really...I feel like I could have benefited from that false sense of control.

At the last minute I decided to get a camera man for my jump.  It was an additional $150, but I figured this would probably be the only time I ever jump out of a plane (recreationally anyway...I'm not ruling out last minute heroics should the need every arise) and there is a strong chance I'll only turn 30 once (though I'm not ruling that out either...just in case).  This turned out to be a great decision.

Drew, Jackie, Steven, Adam and I were the first group to jump, so we were loaded onto the plane like a can of Pringles, each person sitting between the previous person's legs.  The door was left over during our ascent.  That was freaky.  At around 5000 ft, the first couple jumpers high-fived everyone they could reach and somersaulted out of the door.  As cool and calm as they were, their exits only incited more panic from the rest of us.  We had to scoot up closer to the door for our turn next.  While our tandem partners started rechecking and tightening our belts to the point of cutting off circulation, I remember thinking, "Oh shit, I'm actually doing this" and resigning myself to fate as there wasn't any option left. 

Another 9000 ft higher and the door was rolled opened again.  We had arranged to have Drew jump first so that we could record his jump on my video, which also served the purpose of me not having to go first.  Drew and his tandem partner scooched up to the open door and knelt on the ledge, half hanging out.   Watching him get sucked out of the plane was pretty stomach churning but there was no little time to get upset about it.  Mr Video stepped out of the plane first and then Garrett and I stepped to the edge.  I was strapped so tightly he was nearly lifting me off my feet as he got us ready to jump.  I tried looking over the edge to see where Drew was, and saw for the first time our height - it was memorizing.  I had heard before that it's unlike a typical fear of heights since you're too high to actually calculate how high you actually are (did you get that?).  I would agree with that.  You can't compare it to any other height you're familiar with because it's just not. Unless you've been sky diving before.  Then I guess it is.  It like of looked like we were going to jump into an old, soft, faded quilt.
Then Garrett snapped my focus by grabbing my forehead and pulling it back against his chest.  Crap.  One of the only two rules I got, I already disobeyed.  Bracing us by holding onto a bar, he rocked us back and forth preparing to jump.  One....two...THREE!  He threw us out of the door and the wind wrenched us out behind the plane.

Just passing the line of no return

I tried screaming as it happened, but I'm not sure if I succeeded.  It was so loud I couldn't hear myself.  The sheer pressure of gravity was shocking and almost painful as I could feel my skin being stretched around my bones, likely trying desperately to get back into the plane.  Staring down at the ground, I tried to breathe but found that with the force of wind pushing up against me, I just couldn't.  Beginning to feel panicky, I struggle to breath while Garrett tries to impress me by spinning around in circles.  I stopped being able to spin about 10 years ago and get very motion sick, very fast.  So now I'm dizzy, gasping for air, feeling nauseous and praying for Garrett to pull the shoot before I pass out completely.

Not happy...can't breathe and skin is trying to escape

Garrett and Mr Video have been communicating with sign language, and Mr Video noticed that I'm freaking out and begins pointing to his nose.  At first I thought he was still chatting with Garret, but Garret thinks that my goggles are falling off, so he smacks me in the face a couple times to make sure they stay on.  I finally understand that my nose is also capable of breathing, and am finally able to regain some composure.

All that happened within 30 seconds, so I still have another 30 seconds of free fall to enjoy.  And it really isn't all that bad!  I can't say that it was peaceful or serene, but it was quite thrilling.

Ejecting the shoot (is that the right term?) was really neat.  First you're plummeting to the ground, then you're suddenly yanked back up into the air.  I imagine it was a bit more of a painful experience for the dudes, but it might have been my favourite part of the jump.  Now that we were falling at a controlled pace, Garrett and I were able to chat a bit and he decides to inform me that our shoot was twisted for a bit, but he got it sorted out.  That was what he and my video guy were communicating about...Mr Video more than earned the $150!

During our parachute down, Garrett showed me how to control our speed by extending or lowering my arms, and how to steer the parachute by drawing in one or the other arm.  He quickly dipped back and forth a couple times before I was able to tell him that me and my poor stomach couldn't handle that type of motion.  He was able to point out to me where Drew, Jackie, Steven and Adam were by the colours of their tandem partner's parachutes.  Although really neat to see where all my friends were floating around, finding them really threw off my sense of horizon and my stomach started to turn again.  Before the end of my parachuting experience I was already eager to get on the ground in fear that I was going to barf on all the poor sods waiting to get on the next plane out.

We had originally intended to land on the slip'n'slide that was set up as an end-of-the-summer treat, but had to follow where Mr Video landed so he could capture our landing.  A few minutes before we actually touched down, I was instructed to lift my legs up as high as I was capable of, and Garrett would do the rest.  It was a really smooth landing and I couldn't have been more excited to be on the ground.

I smiled and lied through my nausea while Mr Video filmed my post-jump reactions.  Afterward, I had to lay on the ground for a solid half hour while my body reorganized, while Drew, Adam, Jackie and Steven were already planning their next jump.  Apparently I'm the only one who forgot a key function of the nose and who's stomach can't handle rotating. 



Would I go again?  Maybe...I would definitely enjoy myself more armed with the knowledge of how to breathe, and would wear sea bands and take gravel before jumping. 

The Aptly Named "Uh Oh"

When I was fourteen, the day camp where I worked as a junior leader was contacted by YTV.  They needed contestants for a new game show called "Uh Oh".  Excited by the memories of toy mountains from "Kid Street", my friends and I eagerly auditioned.  If the casting directors were looking for outgoing kids who were willing to make fools of themselves on television, they found the right place.

Jackie and I were both selected as contestants.  We were not allowed to be partners because I was taller than her, and we didn't look good standing together on TV.  We were disappointed, but you know, whatever. We were just thrilled at the opportunity to be the centre of attention and win some cool stuff.

The filming day finally arrived, and YTV sent a bus down to the camp to pick us up.  All our friends were allowed to come sit in the audience and cheer us on.  I was put on the blue team and Jackie on the green team.  We bid each other good luck and stared cooly into each other's eyes, knowing that for the next hour or so, we were enemies.  Children's game shows have a way of doing this to you, I suppose.  Exposing the competitive, conceited, conniving, greedy little monsters teenager's are.

As the audience was arranged, the contestants were herded into the green room where we were instructed on the rules of the game.  I don't remember most of them, but assume they were unoriginal:  Spin the wheel, answer a question, play a game, incorrect answers might get you slimed by "The Punisher".  This was Canadian programing, after all, so no creative boundaries were broken. I secretly hoped my partner would get an answer wrong so I would be slimed, as part of the overall game show experience, but otherwise I was cool, calm, collected and ready to win! 

Our very first task was to come tearing onto the stage, slapping high-fives with the audience as we ran up to the podium.  Easy enough, though wickedly lame.  I was really embarrassed to be high-fiving the audience, and also worried that they would be too cool to high-five me back. Worst still, I had to go first. 

What they neglected to tell us was that the lights would be off when we came running onto the sound stage, with only coloured strobe lights to guide our way through the twisting ally of arm-flailing kids.  Without much choice in the matter, I was shoved into the dark flashy auditorium.  Thank God the kids high-fived me back, because that would have been the worst type of embarrassment - or so I thought.  Then I ran into the camera man, knocking him over, causing him to drop the camera on his own head. 

They obviously stopped taping and had to bring up the lights while they checked his face and camera to make sure that neither were broken.  Not the type of "look at me" attention I was aiming for. 

Luckily for his face, everything was fine and we resumed the show.  To Cole's Note this for you, I didn't get slimed but my partner did as a result of me not knowing how dentures were attached when they were first invented.  We ended up winning, and went home with an electric keyboard, which I later sold via the Penny Saver for $100.

I would give that $100 to see the blooper reel one day.






AND now, thanks to Jack MacDougall, here are some clips from the show!

Circle Square Ranch - Part 2

After a year of hearing us boast about our camp experiences (see Part One), Jackie and Sandra decided to join us at Circle Square Ranch the next summer.  The four of us shared a wagon with Hannah, Cynthia and Linday.  Cynthia had already been there for a week where she met a boy, who was so taken with her, he paid for her to come back again to spend another week with him.  I remember being taken quite aback that she'd accept such a gesture, especially considering she insisted she didn't 'like' him.

We had an honourary bunkmate named Montana.  She didn't sleep in our wagon, but her bunkmates didn't like her for some reason (how very un-Christian of them...) so we befriended her and talked crap behind their backs and gave them all the mean squinty eyes (un-Christian of us, too, I suppose).  Montana was obviously cool, since she had long cornrows and, well, her name was Montana.

There was another camper named Annette.  She had short blond hair and seemed much more mature than the rest of us.  I wasn't actually present for this happenstance, but when her group was at the rock climbing wall, she slipped on a rock at the top and started to fall.  Her partner wasn't paying due diligence at the time so the rope was tearing through the grigri.  Rope burn prevented him from grasping it, so in a heroic act to save her spine from possible snappage, he shoved his hole hand into the metal device, grinding the rope to a stop.  Annette jerked to a halt without injury, but her poor partner's hand got mangled in the process.  He was a reluctant hero and Annette continued to walk.  She further cemented her reputation when her leather-clad father picked her up on his motorcycle at the end of the week with her duffel bag bungeed to the rack.

We followed the same basic itinerary as the previous year: horseback riding, rock climbing, camp fire and the such.  This year I recall a much higher fervour of Bible lessons, prayer, and confessions.  Our councilor had a particularly heart breaking back-story that she shared with us, and possibly because of that we all decided to turn a leaf and embrace a stronger set of Christian values.  After the week was done, the four of us returned to Brampton feeling very religiously inspired, though I can't say how long that lasted.  I also have some drunken teenage memories of house parties where Laura climbed into a dryer.   

The "shmuck the staff" that year was much more successful for me.  I had the ultimate pleasure of finding the camp director, so whereas anyone else who found a councilor got a can of whipped cream to douse them with, I got an Italian-family sized can of tomato sauce to pour on poor Steve.  I savoured this honour.  Not because I didn't like Steve, but because what person gets full permission and approval to paint another human being with tomato sauce?  Seriously.  I fully recognized that this was a once in a lifetime honour, and I was prepared to enjoy every second of it.  I let it drip on Steve's head until it streaked down his face like he'd been scalped.  Then I used handful's of it to chuck against his shirt until he looked like a massacre victim.  By the time I was finished the entire gallon (remember I said Italian-family sized can) I too looked like I'd been through significant trauma. 

Almost as if I was suffering from withdrawl, knowing that my tomato sauce painting days were over, was nearly too much to bare.  Whats more, the ground beneath where poor Steve had once knelt was a thick pool of the substance.  As I am a firm believer of reduce/reuse/recycle, it was beyond my self control to simply leave it lay.  I scooped up a handful and continued my human sauce painting movement on Sandra, Jackie and Laurie.  Within minutes, the four of us had a makeshift mud wrestling pit.  We didn't even notice that our escapades were not appreciated by the councilors and unfortunate bystanders who got the back spray.