Many years ago while skiing at Mt. Sutton, just over the Canadian border from VT.; I met a contingent of Commerce Dept. ski clubbers staying at the same hotel. In the group was a young, somewhat athletically challenged, woman named "Jane" (not her real name). Sutton had a ski off at the start of each week to determine what class level was appropriate for each ski weeker. "Jane" and another guy were put in the beginner class, and by days end, both were moved to a "remedial" beginners class of two - Jane skied ever so slow and fell often and the other guy always bombed straight down whatever green slope their class was on. He was always fussing at "Jane" for falling and going so slow. Well, late on the third morning (these were all day lessons, by the way) I looked up from the line at the bottom T bar and saw "Jane's" class coming down the slope, and the guy was going full bore, straight down. Now below us was a parking lot, so the resort had placed a very solid four rail fence to prevent ski jumping into windshields. From the line we watched the guy in the remedial class getting closer without any signs of slowing down...did I mention we were in French speaking Canada? Suddenly we all moved aside to avoid being clobbered and this guy went full bore into the fence, straddling a post, skis on both sides and under the lower ankle high rail. He hit standing (collapsed?)straight up. There was a moment of stunned silence and everybody shouted as one "are you all right?" He responded with a long painful moan while still up against the fence....I mean he had been going as fast as one could go on this short slope. With no response observed several formally in the lift line asked the same question in French, and he responded in French with the same loud painful moan. The ski patrol arrived quickly and pulled the guy off of the fence, BUT before they arrived, little "Jane" reached the bottom, skied up to her classmate, put her hands on her hips and said "Better to fall down than to hit the fence!!!" By the way, he was back skiing the next afternoon.
Speed can kill, or cause a sudden octave switch in one's voice!
The Colonel
