Today we had a merger on the slopes and my class of four was doubled into a lovely group of eight. I had two lovely girls on hand to try and save my sanity but also two new boys to encourage the existing outrageous four to try and break my sanity. As always with a bunch of skiers of a high level there was loads of skiing and they covered a good portion of the ski area, but mixed in with all that skiing was also a whole load of annoying moments and funny situations. It started when I got to the top of a chairlift with a misplaced optimism that the group would be neatly lined up on the side awaiting my arrival. What I was greeted with was a chaotic spread of peculiar teens each doing something bizarre. One was flicking snow off his ski over himself, another was clapping his poles together like a monkey with cymbals and a particularly annoying pair were testing out whether they could ski whilst interlocking their skis with one ski through the gap under the others boots. All this was going on because they had to wait for one of the group to dress themselves. As I exited the chair I was greeted with a strange surprise of one kid down to his thermals, stripping off the rest of his gear in an effort to try and sort out the straps of his ski pants. As he was faffing about putting on a fashion show the others had taken this opportunity to showcase their individuality by forming a shambolic spread by the lift exit.
These kids are meant to be the best the whole travelling party had to offer and queuing aside, they’re a good bunch, not as good as they think they are, but a good bunch. One particular flash of arrogance caught my ear when I attempted to do a drill to help their posture on their skis, to which a kid replied “I’m the perfect skier”. Mr perfect skier then preceded to not nail the drill and then have a disastrous few hours. The succeeding lift that was a tee bar was not Mr perfects friend. Him and his sidekick missed the first one all together and then another prodigy got his head in the way of the second one sending in spiralling out of control. The third one sliced between the pair and Mr Perfect, refusing to let go was dragged a few metres up the hill. He then boldly asked for a girls number at lunch and got coldly rejected. To celebrate that feat Mr Perfect (who was too cool for ski poles on dat one) fully extended his fancy telescopic poles to their full length, and then accidentally a little bit further until he was left with four poles that were half the size. Having over extended his poles he then spent the next few lifts and slopes elongating the repair, slowing down the group whilst skiing around like a Jerry.
Not the perfect few hours.