Ski Weekend Surprise...

I promise not to make this blog all about the awkward things that happened to me in high school, but there's such a wealth of material there that I feel compelled to devote a good portion of it to the topic...

Most people can't understand why I have no desire to see another ski slope as long as I live. Besides the fact that it's an expensive sport that requires freezing weather and good balance, I've been skiing three times and each time was... disappointing.

The first time I went skiing was a hot mess disaster wrapped in a thick layer of pure mortification and I'll definitely be writing about that in the future. The third time I went skiing it was just soul-crushingly freezing. But for now I'd like to talk about the second time I went skiing. And, because this was high school, you know it had to involve a boy...

Let's call him "James". I was a senior and James was a tall, gangly underclassman with glasses and a slight space between his two front teeth. We were cast as a married couple in a play, and thus began spending a lot of time together after school. I wasn't really interested in him romantically, but when he started paying a lot of attention to me I decided that I was in no position to turn down potential suitors (see my last Valentine's Day post) so, like a judge in a courtroom, I "allowed it".

James and I had small parts in the play, so there was a lot of downtime when we'd hang out in the hallway doing nothing. It was then that he started talking about how much he loved to ski, to which I promptly replied that getting a root canal was higher on my list of fun things to do. You can then imagine my surprise when he enthusiastically invited me to go skiing up at Killington, VT with him and some "friends from youth group". Needless to say, I immediately said "No way in HECK." I didn't care if Jon Stamos (who was hot back in 98?) was going to be there, I had no interest.

James was PERSISTENT and kept asking and asking. What was his obsession with getting me to go on this trip? I decided that he must be hopelessly in love with me and want to gracefully maneuver the slopes by my side. I ran it by my mom and she encouraged me to go, gave me money to cover my skis and lift ticket, and told me to have an awesome time (yes, she is amazing). Knowing her, I'm sure she also went to Marshalls and bought me some snowflake-adorned attire to take along...

Anyhow, I very reluctantly packed my things and met up with James and his friends one evening. James' friend's dad, Mr. W, drove us all the way up to Killington to stay in the INCREDIBLE house he owned up there. We're talking "indoor-pool-and-jacuzzi-incredible." It was amazing, and we celebrated our arrival by tubing down a nearby hill that was illuminated by the stunning full moon. Snowflakes fell softly on our carefree teenage heads. There was laughter, there was merriment-this was too good to be true.

Afterwards, everyone was told to freshen up and meet back in the living room. When I got there, a large fire was emitting cozy warmth from the hearth and people were lounging in plush sofas and chairs. I sat down, put my hands behind my head, and breathed a sigh of contentment. Maybe I was wrong and this was going to be the best weekend of my life. Then I noticed James flirting with Mr. W's daughter. Come to think of it, he had been hanging around her all night. That's odd. If he liked HER, then he wasn't pursuing me. But if he wasn't pursuing ME, then why did he invite...

That's when Mr. W took out his guitar and instructed everyone to turn to a specific page in their BIBLES. Everyone complied except for me, who hadn't gotten the memo that this was a BYOB event. I then spent the rest of the evening listening to bible verses, humming Christian music, and deciding that James was not to be trusted.

I have no problem with Christian retreats. But I think we can all agree that they shouldn't be handled like surprise parties. On the upside, James may have a promising future as a missionary...

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