My Life is One Big Episode of “Wipeout”
Happy New Year, beautiful people!
To all of my friends in the Tri-State Area, I hope you’re staying warm and safe. I, for one, wiped out four separate times while walking to work this morning. Four! (Relax mom, I’m fine.) When it comes to inclement weather, I feel like Hoboken is the redheaded stepchild of the greater New York area. The streets in the city are always plowed and salted right away and yet, somehow, I’m always climbing over mounds of snow and ice in Hoboken to get from my apartment to the path. What gives?
I digress. If that’s my biggest complaint of 2014, I consider myself to be very lucky.
I’ve definitely been no stranger to snow lately. This was my home for the last four nights of 2013:
Pretty, right? We all joined forces and rented a log cabin in Bridgewater, Vermont in an attempt to ring in the new year as far away from NYC as possible. Mission accomplished. (Cover fees and stilettos in the snow are a few of my LEAST favorite things. I much prefer flannel and fireplaces.)
Funny side-story: On our drive up to Vermont, we stopped for snacks at a gas station. The woman behind the register stopped Megan, Chelsea and I and asked if she could take our picture to send to her husband. She went on to explain that sometimes, when she asks him what he’d like for dinner, he responds: “A buffet. One blonde, one redhead, and one brunette.” We got out of there real fast.
Bridgewater was absolutely beautiful. Our house was surrounded on all sides by wide open spaces and mountains. Quite the change of scenery for someone who spends her life inside of a concrete jungle.
On our first full day in Vermont, we decided to go skiing in Killington. I’m just going to go ahead and admit that this was probably NOT the smartest decision I’ve ever made. Why? Well, if you know me at all, you probably know that coordination has never been my strong point. I’m sure you know where this is going…
Why, yes. That’s me. In a tree. Nothing to see here.
Here is where I extend a most sincere THANK YOU to my amazing friends who are as patient as saints. They coached me down the slopes, helped me out of several trees/bushes/ditches, pulled me up from my (multiple) wipeouts, and didn’t let me give up — even when I threatened to take off my skis and walk down the rest of the hill.
At the end of the day, when we were all ready to call it quits, we had to take one last ride up the mountain to get to our car. The only way up was via a heavy-duty gondola, as opposed to the standard ski-lifts we’d been taking all day. This should have been Red Flag #1.
After TWENTY FREAKIN’ ANXIETY-RIDDEN MINUTES on the gondola, I started to realize that we weren’t stopping. Nope, we were headed straight for the top of the damn mountain. Red Flag #2.
“Um, Delvec, will there be a green slope up there for me?”
Red Flag #3.
We finally made it to the top and, as I feared, there were only two ways down: an intermediate slope and a black diamond slope. I took this picture to capture what I assumed to be the final moments of my life.
And, off we went.
I had made it halfway down the mountain without falling — a miracle! — when I was suddenly struck with fear; staring down at the steepest and bumpiest slope I’d yet to see. Normally, I would have just closed my eyes and flung my body downhill (a real professional, I tell you) but I couldn’t run the risk of barreling full force onto the black diamond slope, inconveniently located straight ahead of me.
After a pep talk from Matt, I knew I had to go for it
unless I wanted to die of hypothermia alone on a mountain in Vermont. Tom had also promised to buy me a beer if I made it down the entire slope without falling, and I was determined. I took a deep breath and slowly started my descent. Welp, “slow” turned quickly into “wayyy too fast” and, before I knew it, I was going 110 MPH (I think) and headed straight for the black diamond.
I had only one choice: WIPE OUT. And you better believe I did. Hard. So hard, in fact, that I landed on my stomach with my face buried in the snow; one ski flying completely off and the other ski smacking me in the back of the head. Delvec rushed to my side.
“Are you okay?!”
“Don’t tell Tom I wiped out. I want my beer.”*
The rest of the trip, while not nearly as eventful, was a total blast. We made a solid effort to get out and explore; eating good food, drinking good beer, and shopping for the essentials.
The house we stayed in was also great. We had an outdoor hot tub, a fireplace, a griddle (that was somehow always full of sizzling bacon), and multiple kegs.
And did I mention the Beer Olympics? I don’t want to brag, but Team Germany was in first place the last time I checked.
As Dave Matthews once said, it’s “not where but who you’re with that really matters” and I couldn’t have asked for a greater group of friends to celebrate the beginning of 2014 with. I know I’m lucky, and I remind myself of that often.
I love my people.
*It should be noted that Tom never did buy me that beer.