Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Week Fifty-One

Event:  Went tubing on a mountain of fake snow

Nothing says Happy Holidays like riding a 50 pound donut down a 700 foot long hill on manufactured snow.  Helloooooooooo Winter!

As a Christmas gift to my little sis, I decided to take her to Snow Creek for an afternoon of tubing.  It was going to be a first for both of us and we couldn't wait.  I sent her a text early in the day to make sure she had warm clothes to wear and to remind her that we were: A) Tubing, B) Going to be outside for hours, and C) It was 30 degrees out.  Since she's 16 years old, I figured a few little reminders couldn't hurt.  As I prepared to get ready, I convinced myself that I needed to wear 4 layers, a stocking cap and gloves that would keep a mountain climber on Mount Everest warm.  Clearly, I was going to win an award for the best representation of "Fuction over Fashion."  As I went to pick up my sis, I met her at the mall where her mom had dropped her off and when she hopped into my car I took one look and lost it.  She was wearing a cute pair of skinny jeans with HOLES in them, fashionable knee-high black boots, a thin sweater and a jacket.  No hat.  No gloves.  And no 4 layers.  She looked like a snow bunny and I looked like...the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.

When we arrived at fake-it-till-you-make-it-mountain, I was completely dumfounded by the snow.  We parked on a bone dry gravel road, but 25 feet away we were trekking through inches and inches of snow.  For the most part, the park looked something right out of Colorado.  Ski lifts, snow boarders, a rental shop and a lodge but one thing was a little off.  The snow had a creamy tint to it making it look like you were walking through vanilla icing.  On one hand, I wanted to dive face first into what looked like an enormous cupcake, but on the other hand, you had to wonder what gave the snow its yellowish tint.  I've only heard one thing about yellow snow and you don't have to tell me twice to stay away.  Regardless, yellow or not, it was impressive.

As we grabbed our tubes we took a ride on a 450 foot long carpeted conveyor belt that took us to the top of the "mountain".  I of course wasn't paying attention (still marveling at the vanilla icing) and lost my balance only to lose my footing on the conveyor belt before we reached the top.  It's fine.  A 6-year-old passed me, but whatever.  Finally at the top, we looked down the 700 foot drop and I tinkled a little.  Good thing I had on four layers.  I sat in my donut, looked over at my little, we gave each other a thumbs up and we were off.  As I launched off the mountain I was convinced I was going as fast as Chevy Chase in Christmas Vacation.  At one point I was screaming, laughing and crying for my mommy all at the same time.  The second time down the mountain I was dared to get a running start and go down on my stomach.  This marshmallow wasn't going to be shown up by 5th graders so I went for it.  First, my running start was anything but spectacular (it's hard to be fast when you're wearing 4 layers) and I ended up over shooting my donut, thus smashing my boobs on the front end of the tube.  To add insult to injury, the majority of my body was way too far in front of the tube so my legs were flailing in the air as I had to work to keep my balance and my chin from acting as an emergency break.  I came within inches of needing a nose job as I spun uncontrollably, almost hitting the sides of my tubing lane face first.  This time I screamed like a school girl as I feared for my life and the safety of others.

My third run was even less impressive.  As my sis and I rode the conveyor belt back up to the top, a sweet little kid told us we should ask one of the guys that works there to spin us.  Thinking there was no harm in that, I did.  On about the 28th full 365 degree spin, I decided there was a fairly decent chance I would be vomiting in my donut.  Instead, I just yelled out every 4-letter word in the book.  When my spinning nightmare came to a stop, I stood up like a drunken sailor, found my sea legs and discovered every parent was holding their mittens over their children's ears.  Sorry about that but mother $!@&%#! that sucked.

While my 16 year old show off was bee-bopping around the mountain turning heads for a different reason, I was at the bottom of the mountain with my head between my knees.  It was at that moment I decided it was time to head into the lodge for hot chocolate.

Here's to yellow snow.

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