Reasons Why I Don't Ski....Part 1

It was a Friday night. The air was clear and free of wind. Our spirits were high. I was excited to go skiing for the very first time. As I approached the top of the bunny hill I asked my friends some questions. They answered and said, you'll be fine. Let's go. One question that I forgot to ask was how to stop. As I was cruising down the hill in a moderate yet accelerating pace I realized that I was going to have to come to either a stop or slow down. I tried the snowplow moved they showed me. That worked a bit...but I needed to stop. I thought to myself...why don't you lean forward and fall on your knees and hands. The idea seemed smart at the time. As I leaned forward I realized that this was a bad idea. I started to go faster and then I started to tumble...head over feet. I went over once....then the second time my nose made contact with my ski....I kept on going...the third flip I hit my head and when I came to my face was in the snow. I had no idea what was going on...I couldn't breath and there was blood all over the snow. The first aid people had already been alerted and were on their way. By the time they got there I could breath again...but still shocked and confused told them I was alright. Let's go for another round. I first asked my friends how to stop...oh, fall sideways...good to know. When I got down to the chairlift guys they gave me a really worried and weird look...I just passed it off as they had heard about the girl tumbling down the hill. I thought that maybe they told them what I was wearing. Whatever...let's go skiing. So I got on the chairlift and went up. I did about 3 more runs...each time the chairlift operator giving me strange looks. Whatever. On the way up after the 3 run I wasn't paying attention when we got to the top of the hill. I didn't pull my polls up in time and they snapped from the pressure of being squeezed between the chair and the cliff's edge below us. That's it. I thought and I quit for the night. When I went in to return my ski's and polls I told the young guy behind the counter that I didn't have any money to pay for the broken polls. His reply was that I didn't have to pay for them because he could tell I lost a lot of blood. I was like, WHAT??? Whatever. I headed to the washroom because everyone around me was looking at me in horror. When I entered into the washroom I looked in the mirror and was faced with something that looked like it walked out of a horror movie. I had dried blood all over my face. Why didn't someone tell me? Oh well...didn't have to pay for the broken polls.