Snowboarding and Skiing. First time for everything.

Skiing is a great time, as is snowboarding. Both are very fun, and inherently dangerous -- two things which coincide with the other.

I skied growing up, and was awesome at it until I quit, circa first grade. I never quite used ski poles; maybe I knew they had some sort of agenda against me. Kids are good at picking up evil the way animals can, so I guess that’s certainly plausible. Anyway, when I was a tyke skiing around with no poles or ski mask or pretty much anything else, it was a big deal when I was finally able to use the big kid’s ski rope-tow.

What is the rope-tow? Why, it’s a device that is both simple in theory and in design. It’s a gigantic rope that’s twice as long as the hill, and its two ends are brought together to form a loop. This loop covers the hill from bottom to the top, and both ends have a pulley. And those pulleys, powered by a machine, spins the rope. People get in line and simply hold on to the rope and get pulled up the hill. Provided they could withstand the whiplash from when their grip tightened around the rope and whipped them along.)

(Sounds very dangerous, doesn’t it? Ask yourself this: would you ever let your kid hold on to this thing while he’s wearing skis and holding two little spears? Of course not. But this was 1982. They were just starting to get rid of the little metal parts on toys that you could take off and put in your mouth. Skiing safety was still further down the line.)

You can guess that the hill isn’t very large, otherwise this wouldn’t work. However, everything is relative, so this was the biggest slope on the hill (for my age), and my new access to the rope-tow was a pretty big deal. I got in line, eager as a beaver, mentally preparing myself for the best time ever. As I daydreamed, I didn’t really notice some older kid nearby, practicing the flying-down-the-hill-at-super-speed stance. When he squatted and bent forward, he tucked both ski poles under his arms and he jabbed a little kid behind him in the eye. I thought this was really unfortunate because 1) the victim was just a little guy and was probably traumatized about even thinking about skiing for the rest of his life, and 2) he was me.

Indeed, when the bottom of the jagged metal pole hit me in the open eye, it scratched it. I went down screeching, got dragged to the infirmary there, and consequently had to wear an eye patch for the next few weeks. Fortunately it only hit the white of my eye so there was no vision damage, but I still had to deal with the attention, something I didn’t want. Things like my aunt awkwardly trying to make me feel good by saying, "Ooh, you look just like a pirate!" come to mind. I would tell her to shut up because I didn’t even want it to be noticed, and then get yelled at for telling her to shut up. That was the end of my skiing career aside from a couple tries back in 7th grade. After skiing down the hill mostly on my stomach, I declared my comeback over.

So what with my indoor track and basketball experiences, it’s safe to say my entire winter sports career existed without snow … up until last year. I was turning 28 and wanted to give snowboarding a shot. I knew I would be good at it because I completely kicked ass on SSX 3 on Playstation2, and I’m a good athlete in general. (This is funny because it’s true. I just had the … the feeling.) You know what’s funny about snowboarding? Many people who have skied their whole lives and then tried snowboarding have gone through horror stories. These are people who are really, really good at standing on two skinny sticks that go down hill extremely fast, but are horrified to stand on one wide stick and go down hill extremely fast. My one friend Colin, a phenomenal skier, tried it once and said that he hit the ground so hard that his snowboard came off and went down the side of the hill, through the woods, and into a river. He walked down the entire rest of the hill, vowing to never snowboard again. Another guy named Mike that I talked to tried snowboarding and said he cried. I laughed and he looked at me dead serious and said, "No, I really cried. I was 32 years old."

Mike’s pussyitis notwithstanding, snowboarding can be deceptively difficult. I suppose the flaw in an adult’s thinking is that he sees a child do it and assumes he can do it. If any smart person actually examines that perception for 30 seconds he will realize that this is very flawed logic. For one thing, children weigh 40 pounds. Hitting the ground hard when you weigh that much is fun. Hitting the ground hard when you weigh 220 qualifies for the ER. For another thing, children are like putty. Just like they can learn new languages easier, they can acquire skills like snowboarding much easier. Most adults are already so set in their ways that new things are almost impossible if you’re not mentally prepared for it. In fact, anyone who’s over 25 and tries snowboarding must be a fool, and is consequently going to get a world-class ass-kicking.

So I tried snowboarding. I went to some mountain in New Hampshire with three friends, one of whom is my girlfriend. Her friend Colin, mentioned above, has a condo up at this mountain. We went up, and since I had zero desire to ski, I wanted to try snowboarding. I rented the snowboard, got some awful snow pants from Colin’s old drawer that only came up to my waste, and some gloves, etc. (The reason the snow pants were "awful" is that beginners should at the very least be wearing overalls-type pants. If you aren’t going to fall many times, then yes, snow pants that go up to your waste are awesome. For me, however, they were going work against me.)

Since they were all accomplished skiers, they went on their merry ways to ski from the top of the mountain down. They said that I should come along and take the "easy route," but at this point in my life I am much too smart for that. I was giving my entire situation much critical thought; they were not. I think they figured that it was easy for them, so therefore easy for me. They were unable to understand why I would have trouble with this, so it got to the point where I told them to just go away. I was sticking to the kiddie trail no matter what they said, so any conversations on the matter were moot.

And goddamn, was I right. The kiddie trail was freaking huge and more than enough room for me to practice. I was finally alone and pretty much had the slope to myself, so I was excited -- excited that I would only humiliate myself in front of several people rather than several hundred. On the other hand, I was also fairly confident that I would pick it up quickly.

When my chairlift reached the point where I got off, the fantasy of flying down the hill evaporated and the entire reality of the situation landed on me like an anvil. Since you can’t have both feet strapped up to the board while waiting in line, you have to unbuckle one and catch the chair that way. So now I had a whole snowboard hanging off my right foot awkwardly, so had to finesse my way off without getting stuck. This was much harder than you realize, because I didn’t have both feet fastened, I had never slid down any sort of decline on a board before, and just the general newness of the situation prevented any and all grace from intervening.
So of course when I was supposed to glide off the seat and down the small hill I fell. Here was another huge advantage of having the hill to myself: no one was coming off the chairlift directly behind me so any traffic jam situations were averted. I hobbled over to one little spot where I could sit, tie my free foot to the board, and get mentally prepared. The fantasy world once again clouded all the red flags I should have seen, so I was thinking of nothing other than kicking ass. I was probably going to do the expert hill after I flew down this petty hill. I got up and felt the board start off slowly. My journey to the pro ranks of snowboarding had begun.

But then I fell. I had gone about 18 inches and fell backward. My balance was really off. I sat up, got the board under me, and stood up. Then I fell again. This time I fell forward. That was a little easier to get up from so I got up rather quickly. I went three more feet then fell. I got up and fell again. When I got up, I fell the other way again. I turned into a human pendulum because every time I got up I fell the opposite way. By the time I reached the bottom of the hill, which was probably about 400 yards long, my longest streak without falling was 8 feet. You think I’m exaggerating right now. You’re wrong.

Thankfully I was still fresh as a daisy so I got right back on the chairlift. As punishing as it was, it was still fun. Not to mention my aforementioned mental preparation -- I was mentally ready for a long day of beatings before I was going to acquire any skill at this. I suppose that was the one thing in my favor versus the people who’ve told me their snowboarding horror stories.

The falling thing was pretty much the main theme of my next few runs, though they became less frequent. That’s not saying much because anything less frequent than "constant" is still a lot. Once I was able to simply slide down the hill, I realized that one of the main things people who don’t fall do is turn the board to adjust their bodies. This included riding on the back and front edge of your board. To do this, you must kick out your back leg either way and put pressure on your heels (back) or pressure on your toes (front). Riding the back edge is also the main way to brake.

On my third and fourth runs I was already trying this. I knew I was going to fall anyway so I wanted to get as much out of each run as possible. I suppose I can brag here because a lot of people I know said they only used the back of the board for the longest time – that is, using the front edge was more advanced. I didn’t know that I shouldn’t have been using my front edge yet, but I’m glad I was by myself so no one was holding me back telling me what I wouldn’t be able to do.

Those moves seem very simple, and in truth, they are. When you’re brand new at it, however, it can get a little garbled. I started going back and forth as you see snowboarders do, cutting on the back edge; cutting on the front edge. The sides of the board are rather sharp, otherwise this wouldn’t be that useful. In fact, I learned how sharp they are because I used them at the wrong angle and paid for it dearly. I was speeding down the hill and went to slow down by braking on the back edge of my board, putting pressure on my heels. For some reason, I confused myself, so as soon as I hit the brakes I put the slightest amount of pressure on my toes instead of heels. The front of the board caught the snow at this awkward angle and all the momentum I had moving forward transferred into all the momentum that was slamming me into the ground. It was probably the hardest I’d ever been hit in my entire life, and this is coming from a guy who played a position in college football where people will tee off on you whenever they have half a chance (inside linebacker).

And remember how I mentioned that I wasn’t happy with my pants situation? It’s because of conditions such as these. When I hit the ground at 25 miles per hour, I bashed into the ice and then kept sliding forward. My jacket was scrunched up around my chest and my pants were eating up snow like a pelican scooping fish from the ocean. I suppose I needn’t mention that my bare stomach also came out to play.

When I got up I had snow all over my face, a red stomach and saggy drawers. It took a good 20 seconds before oxygen was given security clearance to get back in my lungs. In the meantime, I could feel the snow crystals on my face begin to melt, which I found interesting. Apparently, even though the parts of cheek that remained on my face felt freeze-dried, they must have been at least 32.5 degrees Fahrenheit otherwise the snow wouldn’t have melted. As the adrenaline slowly ebbed from my veins, it was becoming more apparent to me how much of a beating I was getting. My body was hitting the ground so hard that the mountain was about to confess to things it never even did.

On my sixth run I had learned not to put pressure on my toes while braking on my back edge, and vice versa. Under my jacket I was wearing a long-john shirt, which I originally tucked into the pants. This had become untucked a while ago, and I couldn’t exactly tuck it in with my gloves or numb fingers. So since it was out in the cold and exposed to more amounts of snow than your average shovel, it started to absorb water and freeze. The bottom of my shirt had become a stretched ice skirt.

When I went to lunch in the café it finally thawed out, and the more I wrung the shirt the more it produced water, almost to an alarming degree. Lunch was good, and I gave tales of my exploits, and somehow the time off and mental gathering helped me figure out what to do, because I only fell one more time the rest of the day. Of course, the fall was when I was on the Intermediate hill thinking about doing the Expert hill next – my body sensed that I was about to put it in danger and was forced to remind me not to get cocky by introducing my ear to some snow.

At any rate, the day was certainly a success, and I acquired a new love for a new sport. I’m in San Francisco now, but when I get back home you can bet I’ll be hitting the slopes all through winter.

Girl of my dreams

You were the woman - no, the illumination - standing on the corner of Geary and Van Ness, remaining 5 feet off the curb, standing in the crosswalk. Normally I look at Mel's Drive-In diner when I'm at that stop light, but this time I was looking at you. You were talking to no one; talking to everyone. I'm sure your song reached hundreds, because you paced in that 3 foot circle with vicious determination. I thought for a moment that I was struck by lightning when I saw you, or maybe stuck with a pin -- there was a moment of confusion. But the way your side ponytail was gathered near your temple was all I needed to see to confirm what had happened to me: I had been a victim of Cupid's mighty bow.

Yes, I kept my window rolled up, and yes, my sunglasses were on and I appeared to be looking straight ahead, but you know what? They allow me to be a voyeur at times, and this day was all any voyeur would need. I stared. Can you blame me? If I had diabetes, your osteoporosis ravaged back would be my insulin. If I were an alcoholic, your incoherent mumbling to no one at all with that empty styrofoam cup in your hand would be my gin. If I were deaf, the way you wave your arms around like your head is on fire would be my sign language for You Complete Me.

Some artists use clay. Others use paint. But you? You are fluent in the medium of art that others only dream of -- you are our poet laureate of Crazy.

Now, let us dance.

The Batman Question

I get bored at work. As a way to pass time, I inquired to a few of my friends via e-mail about the ethical consequences of a stranger walking into Batman's Cave. The question I asked was this:

"Hello friends. I have a question for you – it’s the whole Batcave thing. Not the Batcave itself, but the way Batman gets in it. He drives this super-vehicle to get there, and then does a huge jump off a dirt road through a waterfall entrance. Yeah, I get the idea -- it's a waterfall -- who in his right mind would go through one with a car, right? No one would suspect. It's just that, well, that beast he drives make some pretty big goddamn tire tracks, not to mention it's a dirt road. Someone is bound to put two and two together and say, "Hey, how come these big goddamn tire tracks face the giant waterfall that is also a scenic area?" (Because let's face it -- a large waterfall like that is not simply ignored in the woods. It would be a scenic area.) Anyway, assuming only hikers know about it, what happens when the curious one ventures in there and finds the Batcave? What does Batman do? Let this one person sacrifice his whole street justice thing? If Batman is exposed, and consequently no longer the Batman, how many people will die because of crime that he couldn't stop? Would it be ethical to kill this one hiker if you knew it would save a family that wandered into an ally?
All sorts of problems arise. Maybe this should be an ethics question. Perhaps I should ask this to random people in the city.
Your thoughts."

The answers I received were from five different people, none of whom knew of another person’s answer. I asked this through e-mail, and on one occasion, in person. I think this shows the value of different points of view. These were my answers:

PART ONE: John’s answer
Rob,
You have broached a deep and complex dilemma. What would Batman do? I believe he would have to fall into two modes of thought, utilitarianism or the categorical imperative.
Jeremy Bentham might argue that killing the hiker would be in society's best interests. Since the "de-masking" of Batman would make him obsolete in his ability to fight crime. Criminals who before feared a winged caped crusader would laugh in the face of a pretty boy with a silver spoon. Not only that, but retaliatory strikes against his family and loved ones would make the situation quite dire. Not to mention the state's responsibility to quell vigilantes. Gotham would be back to the "middle ages" again. Other consequentialists may consider safety an important consequence, but in addition argue that consequences such as justice and equality should also be valued, regardless if they increase safety or not.
Immanuel Kant would argue that a categorical imperative denotes an absolute, unconditional requirement that allows no exceptions, and is both required and justified as an end in itself, not as a means to some other end. The murder of an innocent, no matter how many lives would be saved, cannot be justified.
So, what should Batman do? He should come from behind and knock the man unconscious and then drug him. Lace his drinking water with some good psychedelic acid. Force march him in some other woods so he gets confused about where he was hiking. Batman would also have to have a "stone gate" created to close off the cave behind the waterfall while the entrance is not in use. Have Wayne Enterprises hire that man and relocate him out of the country.

PART TWO: Pat's answer
Well thanks to the MTV Movie Awards, we now know that Batman's real identity is Napoleon Dynamite. So I imagine Napoleon just uses some of his nunchuck skills on the poor wayward hiker, leaving him concussed and unable to remember that he found the bat cave.

PART THREE: Mike’s answer
As far as this Bat Cave issue goes, I think you have no choice but to get the opinions of random people in the city. You'll need to get a large sampling of opinions to really get a grasp on where people are on this. To save time, don't waste your breath with a long preamble, just run through streets and go up to people and say "The waterfall won't disguise him!" The running may make you sweaty and out of breath, so say it loudly. People will know what you're talking about, so if they look stunned at first, just say it again, maybe louder. You may have to keep repeating it until they give you their opinion.
You're a journalist Rob (or at least you do something with the written word). Find the truth, find what is in people's hearts. Solve this for us, solve it for Bruce.
Godspeed.

PART FOUR: Andy’s answer
You raise some interesting points, most notably the morality of the "Wandering Hiker" situation. It begs the question: what is Batman's prime concern? Saving lives, or preventing crime? If he were out to save lives, then preventing crime is simply a means to that end. Batman could just as easily have been a public health champion, a modern day Albert Schweitzer in a cape and costume. But I opine that Batman's true goal is the eradication of criminals - saving lives and "doing good" is simply the PR spin that covers Batman's darker urges. Remember his origins: the death of his parents at the hands of criminals. Batman is cold. He would kill that hiker, and any who followed.

PART FIVE: Jarra’s answer (my girlfriend)
Are you fucking serious? Here’s your answer: Get off the goddamn computer and help me clean, you loser.

PART SIX: My conclusion
While Jarra comes close, I believe that Andy was the most correct. Batman knows it all comes down to a numbers game. If he knew the consequences, he would kill whoever walked in, because after all, you could contend that that hiker would be indirectly killing people since his action of discovering and neutralizing Batman would prevent him from saving innocent lives in the future. But after the hiker was dead, you could also argue the likelihood of Batman sodomizing the corpse. And then setting it up to have tea at a little breakfast nook near the pool with two teddy bears and another plush toy. Because let’s not forget one main thing about our friend who wears a costume every night: Batman is completely fucking nuts.

Are parents capable of understanding? Some say no.

You know what song keeps going through my head? Parents Just Don't Understand. The third act in particular. The girl says, "How do I know you're not sick? You could be some deranged lunatic." She says this after she has already gotten in the car, but nevertheless, she's got a good point. Why should she drive with him, anyway? Will Smith crushes her argument, however, with two points of his own. 1) His name is The Prince. 2) Would a lunatic drive a Porsche like the one he's driving? Answer: No. Lunatics are crazy, therefore, anyone who's homicidal can't possibly put three words together to make a sentence, nevermind drive. Apparently they see eye-to-eye on these two statements, so they pull away.

It seems like an open and shut case, but upon further analysis, I think the logic here is somewhat flawed. Sometimes people are so rich they become crazy and kill people for fun. Certainly, when one is that rich, one has the means to afford a respectable automobile. So in this case, then yes, a lunatic WOULD drive a Porsche like that. And to the former point of him proving he's not crazy -- "My name is The Prince" -- people very rarely have the word "the" in front of his or her name, in fact, I would say crazy people are more likely to have it. But he also calls himself the Prince -- some sort of narcissistic urge to be royalty, I guess. Humorous in the song, but telling others you're part of divine lineage when you actually live in a poor area is a trait of the crazy. So upon further inspection, neither answer is really very assuring, is it. In fact, both answers would lead one to believe more than before that he actually IS crazy.

And last but not least, if you're truly a "lunatic" would you be aware of it? I'd say no. If you were aware of your being mentally unbalanced, then you wouldn't be mentally unbalanced. I won't go into the whole buying-really-cheap-school-clothes-yet-affording-a-Porsche thing. I think the song is just plain flawed.

Subtle Rules of Life

I tried to compile some things that aren't so apparent to everyone, though we all know them. I could be entirely off the mark, but then, maybe YOU ARE:

Don’t wash down a warm chocolate chip cookie with chocolate milk. It won’t taste as good as you expect because you’re overdoing it. Only regular milk will suffice.
If you’re giving someone a fade-type haircut, make sure the back of the head and around the ears are all cut. Otherwise you’ve negated the entire point of the haircut.

When something is about to blow up because of you, such as a car, plane, etc., simply walk away from it and don’t turn around when it explodes.

If you’re in a movie and reading a letter in the rain, make no attempts to keep it from getting wet. In fact, if something is in the water and you’re fully clothed, simply jump in to get it, regardless of the fact that you're soon going to be damp and cold and miserable.

If you wear a Yankees hat to a Red Sox game, especially in the bleacher seats, do not act surprised when you start getting shit for it. That’s either ballsy or just plain dumb.

When begging for change from a wheelchair, at least be consistent enough to not have both feet on the ground when sitting in it, or prove to passers by that you’re capable of walking. Also, do not beg from a wheelchair in one spot today when you were begging with the blessing of your legs 50 feet further away yesterday.

Anytime someone says, " … and if you EVER … blah blah blah" (essentially threatening someone about doing something ever again) it’s corny. Don’t do it. It’s intended to be a display of control and authority, but it doesn’t actually work and sounds retarded. People emphasize the word "ever" because they see it in movies, but it sounds pretty ridiculous in real life. This has also been seen when an older brother has waited for his little sister to walk away and then threatens the new boyfriend. Like, "Break her heart and I’ll break your face." Works in movies, but if you do it real life you’re a loser.

If you’re an employee of Starbucks, and consequently part of an ordering system that takes customers 90 seconds to order a drink, you have no right to get upset at a customer who’s pissed that his order got fucked up.

Speaking of Starbucks, don’t ever stand in line there if the line is 20 people deep. There’s another one around the corner.

If you find yourself quoting a movie, quote one line at the most. No one needs to hear, say, the entire Bill Murray anecdote about the Dali Lama golfing. We all know it.

Pre-shower you and post-shower you do not agree.

95% of the things presented to you every day are horseshit. You don’t need a cell phone that has Instant Messenger, you need a phone that has reception.

It’s dibs. Not first dibs. Dibs. Dibs means you’ve got the first grab at it, so saying "first dibs" is pointless, isn’t it. Just because every other retard says it, doesn’t make it so. The same goes for lackadaisical (not "lax") and the made up "conversate." Rappers say it because they’re usually uneducated. It’s "converse."

The majority of people don’t know what they’re talking about. Find out for yourself, just make sure you learn from the mistakes.

There’s almost always a shortcut. Don’t wait in line. Almost doesn’t mean always, but it works most of the time.

If you have one job to do and get paid well for it, keep your eye on the ball.

Do a double check.

If your roommate is locking the apartment door as you’re all leaving together, and you remember that you don’t have your key, go inside and get it. Just because you’re with him or her at that point, doesn’t mean you will be in three hours. Because when you come home alone then you’re in Fuckville, population: You.

When you have the chance to pee, take it. Especially when travelling.

Listen. No one else does. I think pretty much no one else on earth.

Just like the title of this list or rules implies, subtlety is everything.

It’s all in the delivery. Watch two people tell a joke. One can make it the funniest thing in the world, the other can ruin it.