CRUNCH! Ohmigod...I
think I’ve just broken something. One of
my limbs must have fallen off. I’m
probably pissing blood out of a main artery as we speak. The Snowdome will look like the site of a
massacre. The children will be scared, for the love of God, someone get me an
ambulance!
“You alright down there Nicola?” comes the voice of über cool Luke, the snowboarding
instructor.
“It’s Natalie, and no, I think I might be dying.”
“You’re fine Nicola” he says as he plants an über cool snow boot on my board and
hauls me to my feet. I think he knows my
name is Natalie (this is the third time I’ve corrected him), so clearly he’s deliberately
trying to annoy me by continuing to call me Nicola.
I must say he’s enjoying my spazzy lack of co-ordination
a little too much. It may be because I’m
the only girl in this group who hasn’t either a) come with a boyfriend or b) is
over the age of ten, but he appears to have taken a liking to me and keeps
insisting I have more attempts at the run.
All I want to do is have a breather for five minutes. I’ve been snow falling (I can’t in all truth
call it “boarding” just yet) for two hours now, and I know damn well there’s a
Starbucks at the bottom of that slope, and it’s calling me.
I unhook my boots and head to the rope pulley to make yet
another ascent to the training area. In
front of me is some wannabe WAG in her 1980’s Princess Diana style skiing
jumpsuit. I instantly hate her. She’s all blonde hair and bling, looking
gorgeous, while I’m knackered, as red as a tomato, and the snow has given me a
runny nose, so I look simply delightful.
I have an Ally McBeal moment, and visualise smacking my board over the
back of her head to knock out some of her dodgy extensions. I stop short though when I realise between
her legs is an adorable child, who’s probably about two, on a teeny tiny pair
of skis. How cute?! As we get to the top
of the run I watch the bimbo abandon her poor child. I’m horror struck! The poor kid has probably only just learned
to walk and she’s just left him up here!
He turns his cherubic little face to me and grins....Then the little
bastard slaloms down to his mother with the grace and speed of an Olympic champion. I’m so taken aback that I wobble on my board
and face-plant the snow.
“No time for napping here Nicola” comes über cool Luke’s mocking tone.
“Ifts Nathfali, you fmuffing fcretin” I snap...luckily my
face is still in the snow, so I don’t think he really caught the gist of what I
was saying. I make a mental note not to
indulge the urge to drop kick the two year old down the slope when he gets back
up here.
Once again Luke hauls me to my feet. The sadist has new plans for me; we’re trying
a new manoeuvre.
“Right Nicola, We’re going to try going forward now, so
you’re going to stick your bum out and straighten your knees”
I oblige and assume the position as instructed.
“Erm, not yet though, I’ll need to be in front of you”
says Luke.
Fuck! I realise
that über cool Luke is
actually standing very close behind me, holding my fleece so that I don’t start
sliding down the slope, and I’ve just pressed my arse right into his crotch. Why isn’t he moving away?? Surely he must
know I can’t move too quickly or I’ll lose my balance again? He needs to move! In an effort to move my
arse away from his nether regions I wobble, and the unfortunate result is that
I essentially gyrate against him. Well this is awkward. I’ve just sexually
assaulted my snowboarding instructor. Great. Finally
Luke moves in front of me (if you ask me he takes a little too long to move),
taking both my hands to guide me down the slope.
“That’s great Natalie”
Oh brilliant. Now
he remembers my name! (I wouldn’t have
minded if I’d been known as Nicola-The-Butt-Wiggler because at least then I
could have claimed that clearly it wasn’t me as my name is Natalie.) I make my slow descent, ignoring the fact
that the kids who started their lesson at the same time as me, now look like
pros, and I still haven’t made it down the slope unaided. Luke lets me travel
the last few meters of slope on my own...Oooh!
I’m doing it! I’m actually doing it!
Splat.
Ok I’m not doing it. I’ve finished doing it. I will do it no more. Instructor number two (I didn’t catch his
name) appears from nowhere and picks me up.
I think I’m done now. After
nearly three hours, I don’t think my body can take any more bumps and bruises. I look at him, my eyes pleading.
“I’d like to have a grande latte now with a shot of
vanilla” I beg him.
Thankfully I think he can see I’m done for the day as he
doesn’t force me to finish the last fifteen minutes of the lesson.
I head back to the changing room, and as I
get into my dry clothes I realise I’ve forgotten to bring a pair of dry
knickers. Fabulous! I guess I’ll be going home commando then! I meet Jonesy in the changing rooms. She’s been getting some practice in while I’ve
had my lesson. She asks me if I’ve
enjoyed it. I tell her no. But that’s only because I’m not already
amazing at it. I don’t like doing things
that I’m not automatically good at. It
doesn’t mean I’m not going to get
good at it though. I’m already thinking
of my schedule for July to see where I could squeeze another lesson in. Did
I enjoy it? In hindsight I guess it was fun. My calves, thighs and pride disagree with me,
but they’ll shut up in a day or so. Now,
after a few hours in wet gloves, my nails are ruined, so if you’ll excuse me I’m
off to give myself a mini-mani. Wish me
luck for the next lesson!
No comments:
Post a Comment