A warm sunny morning in late April 1995, atop Peak Chair at Whistler. I was waiting for my ski pals to finish zipping and buckling, when a beautiful woman skied by. Unattended.
In my late 30’s I was notoriously single and had been searching/dating furiously for years. Knowing that I couldn’t have everything I wanted in a mate, I had long prior discarded the idea that she would need to be a skier. There are many other more important characteristics. And because the male-to-female ratio of skiing is so bad I gave up expecting to find available women that way.
My three friends weren’t ready yet, so I yelled “Cherchez la femme!”* and skied after her.
She had gone down a cat road that runs behind a series of peaks heading to the remote Symphony Bowl. I caught up with her, and skiing along side asked, “Shouldn’t we be dropping a trail of bread crumbs, so we can find our way back?”
I don’t remember what her brief response was. I looked over my shoulder and my friends weren’t coming yet. I didn’t know what to say next, so I stopped to wait for them.
Shortly they came into view and I took off again, but couldn’t find her. Shit! I let her get away.
Lets see… she was wearing a black top with hot pink pants. And that day I was wearing a hot pink top with black pants.**
I kept my eye out for her all day, but Whistler is a big area.
Hours later, at about 3pm, I was in Peak Chair’s singles line, and there she was behind me.***
This time I would not be at a loss for words. “If I stood on my head, we’d match.” I was like a fellow in estrus.**** We chatted over my shoulder a little, but, being the singles line, we couldn’t ride up together.
At the top I asked if she could join us. She said no, she was late catching her ride back to Seattle and had to bolt for the bottom. “You’re from Seattle? So am I.”
I handed her my card, she said her name, and g’bye. That quick.
When I got home a few days later I found a message from her on my answering machine. Finally we got to have our first real conversation on the phone that evening. And the next. And the next…
****************************
Months later, after we were in love and had moved in together, we reminisced about our meeting. She recollected that my first line had been something about croutons.
Croutons? She misremembered ‘bread crumbs’ as ‘croutons’? She obviously didn’t know the story of Hansel and Gretel.
So I decided to get a book of fairy tales for us to share aloud at bedtime. Grimm’s Fairytales. The real ones.*****
We abandoned the book after a couple of nights, but I did get a tee shirt out of this. When meeting her dad for the first time I had one made for the occasion. But I consider the shirt good for all occasions, now and forever.
It says “I’m facing life’s crouton trail with Toni”.
* Pogo alert
** irony alert
*** daytime soap alert
**** Bio 101 alert
***** no longer in the mood alert
In my late 30’s I was notoriously single and had been searching/dating furiously for years. Knowing that I couldn’t have everything I wanted in a mate, I had long prior discarded the idea that she would need to be a skier. There are many other more important characteristics. And because the male-to-female ratio of skiing is so bad I gave up expecting to find available women that way.
My three friends weren’t ready yet, so I yelled “Cherchez la femme!”* and skied after her.
She had gone down a cat road that runs behind a series of peaks heading to the remote Symphony Bowl. I caught up with her, and skiing along side asked, “Shouldn’t we be dropping a trail of bread crumbs, so we can find our way back?”
I don’t remember what her brief response was. I looked over my shoulder and my friends weren’t coming yet. I didn’t know what to say next, so I stopped to wait for them.
Shortly they came into view and I took off again, but couldn’t find her. Shit! I let her get away.
Lets see… she was wearing a black top with hot pink pants. And that day I was wearing a hot pink top with black pants.**
I kept my eye out for her all day, but Whistler is a big area.
Hours later, at about 3pm, I was in Peak Chair’s singles line, and there she was behind me.***
This time I would not be at a loss for words. “If I stood on my head, we’d match.” I was like a fellow in estrus.**** We chatted over my shoulder a little, but, being the singles line, we couldn’t ride up together.
At the top I asked if she could join us. She said no, she was late catching her ride back to Seattle and had to bolt for the bottom. “You’re from Seattle? So am I.”
I handed her my card, she said her name, and g’bye. That quick.
When I got home a few days later I found a message from her on my answering machine. Finally we got to have our first real conversation on the phone that evening. And the next. And the next…
****************************
Months later, after we were in love and had moved in together, we reminisced about our meeting. She recollected that my first line had been something about croutons.
Croutons? She misremembered ‘bread crumbs’ as ‘croutons’? She obviously didn’t know the story of Hansel and Gretel.
So I decided to get a book of fairy tales for us to share aloud at bedtime. Grimm’s Fairytales. The real ones.*****
We abandoned the book after a couple of nights, but I did get a tee shirt out of this. When meeting her dad for the first time I had one made for the occasion. But I consider the shirt good for all occasions, now and forever.
It says “I’m facing life’s crouton trail with Toni”.
* Pogo alert
** irony alert
*** daytime soap alert
**** Bio 101 alert
***** no longer in the mood alert