Ick on a stick: The lost lunch | VailDaily.com

Ick on a stick: The lost lunch

Compiled by Allen R. Smith

In the 1950’s, I was teaching at Brighton Ski Area in Big Cottonwood Canyon, Utah. At the time, all of the sewage waste was hauled out in large tanker trucks.The only lodge on the mountain was set up so a tanker could back in underneath the out-house type facility to haul away what dropped down from above.One Saturday morning after teaching a class of youngsters, all the instructors gathered in the lodge for lunch. We had just begun to eat when Ardo Perry, the legendary mountain manager, came stomping towards our table, cursing up a storm.”Do you know that one of your students is in the outhouse, poking a bamboo pole down the hole?” In his typically gruff manner, Ardo was in the process of severely admonishing him for such an act when the boy explained that his parka had fallen down the hole.Ardo pointed out that he probably wouldn’t want the parka anymore after it had fallen into the truck.”But mister, my lunch is in the pocket!”- Jay Price, Salt Lake City, UtahEavesdropping on the slopesInstructor: “What’s your girlfriend’s name?”Child: “Nanya”Instructor: “Nanya?”Child: “Yeah, Nanya business!”•Instructor: “Where are you from, Allie?”Child: “Poppy’s house!”•Instructor: “Did you make any new friends today, Michael?”Michaels hakes his head no, then says: “Just God!”•Instructor: “Don’t cry, your Mom will be back soon.”Child: “My tears just keep coming out of my eyeballs!”•Instructor: “What class are you in?”Child: “I am supposed to be a level 2 but Sam forgot to change my dealie.”Sam, his instructor, failed to correct his name tag with his new class level on it.•While riding the chairlift with a student, I asked him, “Where are you from?” He replied, “The hotel.”- Patricia Wall, VailVail, Colorado

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