I was riding the lift at Nashoba Valley, MA, on Tuesday, and my friend's ski falls off. I get off the lift and get to the ski before he does, ski down a little ways, and put it on the ground facing downhill, thinking that the brakes will stop the ski from impaling any small children. Apparently, this ski's brakes are defective, as in; they no longer exist. The ski runs away at a million-jillion miles per hour, and smashes into a slalom gate at the bottom of the hill, breaking it, then flies more than 25 feet in the air, does a misty 7, and lands, finally stopping under a double chair. I was laughing my ass off, but Betsey (yes, with an extra 'E') apparently didn't. Betsey, for those fortunate number of you who have never ridden Nashoba, is a completely anal, menopausal, evil, sadistic patroller who doesn't use poles. The day before, I had seen her screaming at a 6-year-old kid at the top of the lift. The kid was sitting on the snow, crying, and she was standing over him yelling, 'I do this for a living, and no pipsqueak like you is going to mess up my day for me!!!!!!!' Then she chucked his skis about 50 yards into some bear-infested woods, realized they were rentals, and risked her own life for the sake of a pair of NASHOBA-OWNED skis. Anyway, back to my story. So, Betsey freaked out, whatever, no big deal. I come back today, Wednesday, and find that I am in totally deep shit. I am no longer allowed to race with my school at Nashoba and Betsey is all set to call the athletic director at my school. I saw her today, and out of the blue, from absolutely NOWHERE, she pulls this accusation out of her ass that I was trying to kill some coach from another school, or something. She took my name and some others' in this little lebian-notebook she has, and tried to steal my friend's skis. She tried to get me banned for life, but she didn't succeed. Then, the coach whom I had supposedly tried to kill (whom I had never seen before) walked up and punched me with his chin.
What has a whale done for you lately?