A Near Brush with Death

So there I was. Standing on the edge of the cliff, my footing very slippery, two pieces of high-density plastic composite strapped to my feet, and no real way of getting down other then to just slide off the edge. As my adrenaline soaked brain struggled in vain to remember what harebrained idea had lead me to this predicament, my feet started to slip, and gravity grabbed hold of my body in its tenacous grip. Awwwww CRAP....

On Monday Ty, Marge, and I (Chad) went skiing with a Chinese friend at a place just outside of Shenyang. Please realize that none of us had much previous experience with skiing, and I, at least, have all the natural coordination of a wounded duck. Arriving at the slope, we were greeted by a single hill, which, while short, was pretty sleep and very fast (I'm sure my friends living in the Rocky Mountain area would very much disagree with this conclusion.) And so, being that I'm a strong believer in learning by experience and falling, quite literally, flat on one's face, I decided to just go to the top and figure out how to get down. 

I should mention here how one gets to the top of the mountian, being that there was no ski lift like we are used to in the States. Instead, everyone gets in a line, and after pushing and shoving to the front (this is how ques work here in China), you need to grab this long pole that is attached to a wire. At the end of the pole, there is a little round circle, which you place between your legs. The wire is constantly circling up and down the hill (much like a ski lift wire), and the attached pole pulls you up the hill. Simple. Just make sure you don't fall down on the way up, thus getting in the way of everyone coming up behind you. 

After making my way up the hill (and yes, I did "fall off the lift" later on in the day), I found myself on the top of the hill with no clue how to get down. Pushing off, I would go a few feet, pick up speed, try to turn, loose control, and fall over. I performed this dance roughly 3 or 4 times until some blessed Chinese boy (my thanks to you, wherever you may be) took pity on me and demonstrated how to go down the hill in a roughtly controlled manner by putting my skis in a V pattern and just going down. It worked. By that I mean that I was able to just start heading down the mountain, trying to slow down, until I reached some critical mass of speed at which I was pretty sure that falling would rip a body part off, so in stark terror I just flew down the hill and didn't even pretend to have any ability to turn or slow down. But I made it. And got on the lift again.

I am quite proud to say that by the end of the day, both Ty and I were able to fly down the hill at speed, twisting and turning past obsticles, and were, in fact, quite bored with the hill. As for Marge, well, I'll leave it to her to tell her story. I recommend facebooking her. 

This past week was a good one. We were able to get out and have some fun, and we were able to experience some Chinese culture by going to a lantern festival. I won't try to express what that was like, you'll just have to wait for picture. And yes, I fully realize that we are well behind in pictures. 

Now tell me that the title of this post didn't make you want to keep reading. Sorry parents for the brief heart attack.