Powder whipped through my face as I soared down my last ski run of the day. I was as confident as I have ever felt before. My friend’s dad Bill agreed to venture with me on the last run of the day. As part of the sun slowly sank behind Okemo’s peak, we were off. I had decided on the lift up that I would glide down “Hot Dog Hill,” the best terrain park of the mountain. Bill would wait at the bottom of the last jump and I would fly over to him with my skis drenched in powder. I entered the park with wings on my feet, ready for my speedy challenge that awaited me.
I was off as fast as I have ever, before mentally and physically preparing myself for this opportunity ahead. I struck the mount with tremendous speed and skied high and straight with power. I swiftly but elegantly landed and fled off to the 2nd mount. I didn’t know it yet but this jump would be my reckoning. I had gained speed and confidence since the first jump so I thought this would be a cinch, but it wasn’t. I felt the gentle incline rise underneath my feet until nothing was there. Suddenly, a wave of air knocked me back sending me to my back and my ski into my leg.
As I thudded against the powder, I felt a sudden jolt of agony and anguish both coming from my leg. Bill skied over to me asking if I was okay. “My leg,” I kept repeating as the blood from my nose flowed into my mouth. The ski patrol arrived in 2 minutes later (or so I was told.) One of the patrollers told me to calm down as his blade in his hand oh-so slightly edged toward the place where the jolts of pain were emanating. They knifed my pants open to see what I was complaining about. To their surprise, they found a gigantic bruise the size of a professional football. They were going to ski me down to the ski hospital to determine what would become of me. They loaded me into the sled and strapped me down like I was from an insane asylum. After 15 minutes of weaving in and out of crowds of people, I was on an examining table with a surprisingly bright light. “We’re just going to load you into the van and you’ll go off to the hospital,” one of the nurses retorted to me as I was lifted up on a stretcher. I was mumbling and grumbling to myself about how they better not cut open my leg or I’ll show them what my other leg can do.
Inside the van, gismos and gadgets flashed all around me as a nice guy inserted a needle into my arm where blue cold stuff will go into it and help my body feel better. They called it an IV and I have no idea what IV stands for. At one point inside the van I thought the driver said, “Wait, where the heck is the hospital.” No joke. But we found the hospital, after some reckless driving and a few comments, of course. As I was changed into the weird white robe, my doctor told me, that I was to get a MRI and a CAT scan. I was so bored inside the machine I thought I was going to die. I have heard that an audit and the DMV are bad, but I bet that an MRI/CAT scan is plenty more boring.
As I lay in my hospital bed playing the state game with my dad, the doctor walked in with the results. My neck was not broken, I just have whiplash and my leg was fine just stay off it for a while until the bruise goes down. As I was led out the door by my dad, my mom and my friend’s mom Denise gave me a Pay Day candy bar and a Nickelodeon magazine and I recapped on today’s experience in my head. Two things I learned that day. First, be careful on terrain parks you don’t know what will happen. And secondly, if you almost break your neck and hurt your leg do not take bribes from Okemo because the best thing they’ll give you not to sue is a coupon for 2 free hot chocolates.