An Original Rambling: Ski Lifts
originally posted on Jan 18, 2001 my old goofiness.com website:
When you are skiing alone you can yell "Single" and if someone up near the front is also alone, you can budge up and ride with them. Whenever I yell "Single" in a lift line, I meet someone new.
The people I meet riding ski lifts always have something in common. It mostly has to do with riding up the face of a mountain on a cold and slippery chair suspended from a rickety system of cables and posts in the middle of a blizzard. It's self-imposed misery, perfect for getting to know someone in 15 minutes.
I've shared a lift with many strangers; lawyers, doctors, construction workers, ski bums, waitresses, handicapped skiers, teachers and professors. Sometimes they have accents that immediately tell you they aren't from this neck of the woods. I'll learn a little about Georgia or Japan by the time we reach the top.
There are always fun lift partners, the type of people who gush enthusiasm. Guys with nicknames like Worm or Snake because of the way they ski, women who have ski bummed in three hemispheres.
There are a few duds, too. I once rode with a man I recognized as a local television weatherman. He asked me if I thought it would snow. It was late spring and I was squinting into a blazing sun when I answered, "Yes, but probably not until next winter."
Another time a podiatrist decided that I needed to know all about how feet change shape as a person grows older. I decided I didn't, so I started rocking the chairlift, effectively changing the subject from feet to "Don't swing the chair, you're gonna kill us both!"
Once in awhile, the person with whom I am riding is shy and not at all interested in talking. I'm not a gabber myself, but think it's interesting to meet new people, and I try to find out a little about each of them. After two or three aborted attempts at conversation, some statements, some questions -- "it's a beautiful day" or "how is your skiing today?" or "you look like a novice, ever been on a lift before?" -- I wave the white flag. Sometimes the lift will stop and you'll be stuck dangling above the hill, waiting to feel the slow pull of the lift chugging back to life. If you are with a shy person the wait seems twice as long.
Some people drink on ski lifts, others break out a sandwich or a Powerbar. Some people on the lift ask if it's okay if they smoke. I figure they must really be jonesing for a cigarette if they want to smoke on a ski lift, but I usually tell them it's okay with me. I wonder what they'd do if I said no. Once a kid pulled out a can of tobacco, thumped the can a few times and asked if it was okay if he put in a chew. I told him if he could live without his lips, so could I.
On a normal day I might be lucky to sit and calmly talk for 15 minutes with someone I know. On a ski lift, my life briefly intersects with one new stranger after another. At the top, I always wish them a good run. What I am really saying is "have a good life" because I'll probably never talk to that person again.
