I Have Terrible Luck With Skiing.

I am not a skier. I have never been. I don’t have an interest in it and never will. I had two separate times when I went skiing and both times they ended in terrible tragedies. Okay, so it wasn’t tragic. If you read on, you will realize that I have a terrible relationship when it comes to putting on skies and going down a hill. I am not a sporting person. I prefer to run but I have been lacking in that department. I would play football with friends that was probably the greatest time I ever had playing football. I am not going to say skiing is a sport. It is a leisure activity but if you were to ask someone who takes skiing as a career, they will argue with me and say, yes, skiing is a sport. Skiing is a sport just like Nascar is a sport. I am rambling on because I want to lengthen this introduction to more than just a few sentences. Keep reading and you will understand why I don’t ski and why I have terrible luck with it.

The first time I could have went skiing ended up with my having to head to the emergency room. It was winter time. My class had a field trip to some skiing place in Weston, Missouri. I really didn’t want to go. I had a feeling I was going to suck at skiing. I do. I am terrible at it but I will get to that later. I remember telling my mom that I was just going to give someone else my ticket from school and have them go in my place. I even made a fake phone call to someone. I pretended that I was giving them my ticket to the ski resort. My mom caught on and told me to just go and have fun. Fine. I will go but I am not going to enjoy it because I don’t want to ski and I know I will suck at it.

It was just a few days before the trip. The ground was covered in snow. My mother asked me to take out the trash. I grabbed the bags and went outside to the backyard where we kept the trash cans. Since I am not the smartest person, I went out barefoot. When I say, “I am not the smartest person”, I mean it. I do some stupid things, like trying to put out a roaring fire with my bare hands. My hand got eff’ed up. To make it even worse, I did some back searching on twitter and found out that this wasn’t the first time I tried to put a fire out with my bare hands. 

I can tell you a few other times I did stupid things (like using a potato peeler to unclog something and slicing my finger open), but the list is too extensive. I will just stop talking about my stupidity and talk about the time I took out the trash and ended up in the emergency room.

I am taking out the trash. I am barefoot in the snow. I am not worried about frostbite. I am not worried about getting cold. I should have been worried about what was buried beneath the snow. I go and toss the trash into the bin. I take a step forward and instantly I feel a pinch. Something just went in my toe. I let out an “ouch!” and hobble back inside, walking on the heel of my foot. I go to the bathroom to see what I did. Well, my mother had this iced tea pitcher that she loved dearly. It was clear with lemons decal. It broke earlier and instead of someone disposing of broken glass the correct way, they left it sitting near the bins. I stepped right on it. It went right into my toe. You know where your toe bends? That’s where it went. It was the middle toe of my left foot. Just writing about it, I can feel it. Whenever I talk about this, I always feel the toe and I feel squeamish. So, I began to scream bloody murder. There is blood everywhere. The tub is filled with my blood. It just keeps pouring out. It isn’t stopping. Whatever I did, it just wouldn’t stop but when it did, things got strange. We wrapped up my foot and I was carried out of the house by my sister who if she tried that now, she wouldn’t be able to lift me. I am not a large man, she just stopped growing and I got taller than her. While I am being carried to the car, the blood started to stop flowing and instead of a steady stream of blood, the blood was clumping and drops of clumpy blood was dropping from my toe. I still don’t know why it did that and just before I started writing this, I looked up blood and clumps. It only came back with woman issues. I’ll skip that.

I got some stitches and the scar is still here. I still feel the pain in my toe if I talk about it. It was the worst place for a cut. I am glad I didn’t lose a toe that day. I like having my toes and it would be a strange story to tell people why I was missing a toe. I didn’t go skiing that time. It’s fine. I wasn’t missing out. It wasn’t until I graduated high school and we went to Colorado for our senior trip that I knew what I always knew. I am not a skier and I can scream like a girl…

My classmates always pissed me off. I didn’t want to go skiing. I would have been happier if we went anywhere else but it was a unanimous vote and when I say
that, I mean “Kirk has no say in what we do or where we are going.” It just wasn’t planning the senior trip. This problem with not caring for what I wanted goes back to grade school. When it rained and we couldn’t have recess, we would stay inside. We would vote what to do while we couldn’t play outside. These douches I went to school with always picked to watch, Grease. No lie. We always watched that crappy movie. It was that or Midway. We watched Midway a lot in grade school. Not sure why that was but it is the only memory I have from grade school. To this day, I hate the movie Grease. I was always stuck watching it and when I suggested we play, Heads Up, Seven Up,  they laughed. Screw you, guys. That game was fun AF.

So we go to Colorado. Fun. I can’t wait to ski. I have never skied before. I could have but I stepped on glass and almost lost my toe. So skiing wasn’t something I had any interest in. It was my senior trip. I had to go. I don’t know if I had fun but I just remember trying to ski and screaming like a girl. I’ll get to the screaming part soon. It is an embarrassing story, one that I will always remember and one that my classmates have no memory of. 

I get all suited up. I start on the bunny slope. I wasn’t going to go whole hog and ski down a real mountain. I didn’t want to die. So if I was going to try and ski, it was best for me to start small. I mean, I never ice skated a day in my life and I did great. I always feared that I would fall while skating and someone would skate over my fingers, slicing them off and leaving my with tiny stubs. The skating part came many years after trying to ski. I just thought I would bring that up because having no clue how to skate and do well at it, you’d think that I would be okay with skiing. It wasn’t like that. I was terrible. I was the worst. I fell. My skis would cross and I would fall again. People would yell at me to do something with my legs or knees so I wouldn’t fall but I still didn’t catch on and every time I tried to ski just a few feet, I would crash to the ground. Eventually, some dude who worked there told me politely to, “Get the eff off the slopes. You can’t ski.” He may have not said that exactly but it was close. I eventually gave up and took a seat near the parents who went along. I spent the rest of my trip not skiing and just watching my classmates have fun and enjoy the senior trip that was a group decision among all students, me excluded.


The screaming like a girl had nothing to do with trying to ski. It took place in our hotel room. I shared a room with three other people. Two beds. So two guys per bed. Not sure why I mentioned that but you know, whatever. We enjoyed pizza and talked about whatever we talked about. Eventually, the night ended and we went to bed. I had a dream that night. If you have read any of my dreams, you’ll know that this dream was just as crazy as the other ones. I cannot recall the entire dream. The only thing I do remember is standing by a cliff with another classmate. He lifted me up over his head and just tossed me over the cliff, letting me plummet to my death. It must have been traumatizing because I woke up screaming at the top of my lungs like a girl. It was loud, like really fucking loud. How loud do you ask? Well, another person staying at the hotel heard the ruckus and called hotel security to report a woman screaming. I woke up the other people in the room. They cussed at me. We all tried to get back to sleep. A knock at the door. It was hotel security. They came in. “We had a report of a female screaming from inside this room…” They searched the room for this female. They looked in the bathroom, the closet, under the beds, and even looking inside a pizza box. Imagine my horror when I had to explain to them that it was me and then having to explain to them that I had a nightmare that the guy standing just inches from me threw me off a cliff. 

Two times that involved skiing for me, were the worst. I have never went skiing again since high school. I have no desire because I am sure if I tried, I would probably die this time around. This is why I don’t ski. Have you ever had a terrible experience with skiing? Ever ruin your senior trip with getting hotel security called on you because they suspected you murdered a girl and put her remains in a pizza box? Maybe you almost lost a toe because you didn’t want to go skiing but then get mad when you couldn’t go? Share. Let me know.

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