But I thought I'd tell you anyway how I spent my weekend snowboarding. It took a while for my friends to convince me to try it, because I remember seeing snowboarders before. And as I recall, the process went something like this:
Me: Hi, Tom! How's life in Michigan?I have this theory that the killer earthquakes we experience is really all the pent-up bad karma from those conversations getting us back. But I digress...
Friend: I lost another toe to frostbite.
Me: Oh, that's too bad. Hey, it's 70 degrees here! I'm wearing a T-shirt!
Friend: (Thinks about this.) I hope you get eaten alive by termites. You and all of your Caluffahshf hfp s murphhhamuffahrf frfffmpprfrf...
Me: Hey, did your tongue get stuck to the phone again?
Friend: Unnnhhh-huuuuhnnnhnnhh.
Me: Aww... well, I'm gonna go play Frisbee! Bye!
Anyway, we decided to go to this great skiing area in the middle of the big snow season, and following the general planning principle of "Maybe hotel reservations will magically materialize on our desk one night when we're asleep", didn't reserve a place to stay until the night before.
As a result, we had a place where, in order to use the bathroom, we had to fight off with a two-by-four the giant rats who had laid claim to the shower.
Of course, I am only kidding. I think they were just large, mean-spirited, mice.
But the next morning, I was up there on the mountain with my snowboard, boarding like a madman. And I mean that quite literally; flailing my arms, babbling incoherently, hitting random passersby, and just falling down a lot.
I found the whole experience rather frustrating, since I'm a pretty decent skier; I can go down large mountains without falling, and I usually complain about those annoying snowboarders who get in my way. Of course, now I realize that it's the skiers who are being incredibly rude by skiing in the exact same area where I'm trying to fall down. Can you imagine? The nerve. I would have given them a piece of my mind, too, if it hadn't been for the fact that I was too busy trying to make sure I hadn't forgotten any major body parts up on the hill.
Luckily, I was traveling with medical students. Traveling with med students is great because they're not old and bitter enough yet to be sick of medicine. This basically means that you can sit around complaining about pains and they love you for it.
You: Man, my hip hurts.They're also great to have around when you're watching ER because they can translate everything for you.
Med student #1: Really? Is it a sharp pain?
Med student #2: Has this hip hurt before?
Med student #1: Could you point out the area of pain on this chart?
Young Dr. Kevorkian: Have you considered killing yourself?
But those were the people I went snowboarding with -- my med school friends, and, of course, an 18-year-old Argentinian. As I have learned from MTV, you can't be engaged in any fun group activity unless one of you is distinctly non-caucasian. Having along a sheltered Southerner who learns a lot about life from the rest of you is also an added plus.
Anyway, the second day, I decided to go skiing, which was much more enjoyable. Hurling yourself down a hill at speeds that approach mach 3 is more fun when you're actually capable of stopping yourself. They also say that skiing is a good way to meet single women (or men). I find this hard to believe. Not only would I end up running into a tree while trying to flirt ("Hi, my name's Todd. I was wondering what... [WHUMP]"), but let's face it: nobody looks sexy in snowpants.