Friday, August 23, 2013

The Dreaded Bunny Hill


I grew up in a ski town called Park City. My brother and I took up snowboarding when we were younger, no doubt because of Jonny Tsunami. It was the cool thing to do. And my dad assumed the same thing when he entered his midlife crisis.

So my brother and I took my dad up to the resort one morning to teach him how to turn and so forth. We gave him basic instructions and took him to the bunny hill. We watched him from the top, and he seemingly just fell over softly into the fresh powder. My brother and I boarded up behind him and sprayed him with snow before seeing how he was doing.

“I’m dying,” he said, crumpled into a snowy heap.

“No you’re not, Dad. This is the bunny hill.”

We took him home and it turns out that he had a few cracked ribs. He decided to forego snowboarding and continue skiing. So basically, my brother and I cured my dad’s midlife crisis!