Ski Instructors Confidential: ‘You stink like snow!
Special to the Vail Daily
Vail, CO Colorado
Anyone who’s been skiing for more than 20 years can hardly forget the irrefutable fragrance of wool ski sweaters and mothballs, moistened by your most recent fall.
In my first year of ski instructing, I had a group of five- to seven-year-olds just learning how to ski. During lunch, I was talking with the kids about what they liked to do, how many brothers and sisters they had, etc.
A six-year-old boy who was sitting next to me exclaimed, “You stink!” I wasn’t sure if I heard him correctly so I asked him, “Excuse me, what did you say?” His response was an unequivocal, “You stink!”
I did the armpit test to confirm that my deodorant was still working. It was. So I asked him again, “I stink?” He responded, “Yeah, you stink like snow!”
Vicky Prouty, Okemo, Vermont
One day I was assigned to an afternoon private lesson with an attractive young lady. Her boyfriend paid for the lesson so that he could ski the Back Bowls with some of his buddies.
The young lady skied well, but after a few runs she grew bored and asked me, “Can you take me down? I’d much rather be shopping.” Since the customer is always right, I obliged and off we went.
It was such a nice day, I decided to go back up and take a few more runs on my own while the young lady continued her spree. About an hour later I ran into the boyfriend and he asked, “Hey, where’s Claudia?”
I said, “She was bored and asked me to drop her off at the village with your credit cards.” The blood drained from his face as he took on a look of impending doom.
“Those were my boss’s company credit cards.”
Phil Krichbaum, Vail
Spring days in the Colorado Rockies represent skiing at it’s finest. Great snow and warm weather combined with spectacular views.
After being bundled up in heavy coats all winter, spring skiers look forward to shedding some of that insulation. Sometimes, even at appropriate times.
On one such morning, I had a class of rambunctious women in their early 40s. Before heading off for our world-class expert terrain, their husbands enrolled their wives in ski school; more to keep them occupied than anything else. The couples agreed to meet at the bottom of the mountain at the end of the day to regroup and gear up for the usual apres-ski activities.
The ladies and I were wrapping up a wonderful day, when one of the more vivacious women received a call on her cell phone. The reception was poor, but she was able to tell that it was her husband, wanting to know where she was and if she was going to ski to the bottom. The woman assured him that she was already headed down the mountain.
Knowing how crowded the base of the mountain gets after 3 p.m., she asked him, “How will I find you?” He answered her on the phone and an unusual look came over her face.
Our group skied all the way to the bottom of the mountain and slowly entered the crowd of skiers ending their day. There were literally hundreds of tired but happy skiers milling about, recounting their day’s adventures. Suddenly, the woman unzipped her parka and tossed it to the ground. This was quickly followed by her sweater.
Just about the time that she started peeling off her turtleneck, her husband came running up to her. “Cheryl, honey. There you are.” Curious about her striptease act, he asked her, “Why are you taking off your top?”
She reminded him that he told her over the cell phone to “Remove some of your clothing.”
Exasperated, he said, “I didn’t say that. What I said was, ‘WAve your poles or something.'”
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