Walt Disney lost his fortune five times before he created the
magical cartoon character Mickey Mouse; Richard Nixon ran twice
before landing his presidency; Susan Lucci was turned down how many
times for the daytime Emmy before she took home that prestigious
little trophy? Some people are still trying.
Walt Disney lost his fortune five times before he created the magical cartoon character Mickey Mouse; Richard Nixon ran twice before landing his presidency; Susan Lucci was turned down how many times for the daytime Emmy before she took home that prestigious little trophy? Some people are still trying.
Liz Taylor’s been married eight times and she still believes Prince Charming is out there, Cher’s had about 47 face lifts and still hopes for that perfect profile. These people all have one important quality – the strength and determination to keep trying until they’re able to succeed.
This Christmas vacation, I decided to test out the exciting but difficult world of snowboarding. For those of you unfamiliar with the process, snowboarding consists of one very brave soul strapping feet-to-board and plummeting down an incredibly steep, tree-infested mountain, covered in sleek, icy snow at a rapid and uncontrollable speed. Sounds fun, right? Surprisingly, it was, but that’s just the beginning.
Of the group I went with, I was the only one who had never snowboarded before. Apparently, my appearance must have given the impression that I was a born natural, because the only practice I got was skidding my way to the ski lift, after which I was forced to attempt my very first run.
While I was riding the ski lift, my friend told me that I would definitely fall when getting off, but that it’s okay, because everyone falls their first time. Amazingly enough, I didn’t fall, but we were headed so far up the mountain (which seemed to resemble the height of Everest) that I had to go on yet another ski lift.
When getting off this one, I was filled with a little too much false confidence and, jumping off, fell to the snow, grabbed my friend with me and skillfully took out two other people on the ski lift as well. That’s when I discovered that I couldn’t get up off my frozen posterior. While trying to get up, another group of people got off the lift and ran right into me, creating a rather embarrassing pile-up. That’s when I realized this wasn’t going to be as easy as I thought.
I looked down at a mountain that appeared to go straight down. Delirious with overwhelming fear, my knees started to tremble, and I sat down in the frigid snow. I was contemplating different ways to get myself down: forcing the ski lift guy to rotate it backwards, asking a somewhat buff snowboarder to take me down on his shoulders, detaching myself from the board and walking. Finally, I realized I had no other options, so I stood up and started to careen down the mountain, unable to restrain the terrifying acceleration. I leveled all innocent and unfortunate skiers in my path.
My friends kept telling me to stop or turn, obviously forgetting the fact that I had never done this before. I had only one choice, which was to do the one thing I had mastered: fall by throwing myself down onto the merciful snow.
I managed my way down, mainly on my gluteus maximus, praying the whole way, offering bargains, like giving up chocolate forever in return for survival. Having been granted another chance at life, I decided the rest of my day would be spent on the friendlier, less intimidating bunny slopes. Alone, filled with shame and surrounded by barely potty-trained 4- and 5-year-olds who sped past my pathetic self, I struggled on the bunny slope for an hour and a half.
Later, when my friends were all bragging about the hot guys they’d met on the slopes, the only story I had to compare with was my encounter with an 8-year-old named Stevie, whom I’d unintentionally detached from his ski. After apologizing and helping him up, he observed how desperate I was, and kindly gave me some pointers.
After that, I got off the lift, where I reached the height of shame. Sliding off the lift, I tried to turn, flew forward, fell on my face and literally ate snow in front of a large group of onlooking snowboarders. At that point I was ready to give up, go to the ski lodge, and drown my sorrows in a large, warm, inviting cup of hot chocolate.
Right then, I looked up to see a girl at the top of a Black Diamond. The whole day I hadn’t seen one person attempt this treacherous slope, and there she was, standing tall, with her blonde hair flying out of her beanie. I didn’t want to look, but I was riveted to the spot, ready to watch this poor girl succumb to a ferocious death from tumbling down that almost completely vertical incline.
She began to advance down, carving left and right, turning backwards and forwards. I was stunned, practically drooling from amazement. She made it all the way down and then kept going, headed straight for a rope fence. Foolishly, I thought she was going to crash after impressing me so much, but instead she crouched down, lifted the rope, and slid right under, then kept going, while unhooking her bindings. She jumped out of them in one swift motion. Up close, I saw that she had headphones on, too. (I wonder what music a hardcore snowboarder like her listens to?)
Basically, that girl is the coolest chick I have ever seen. She was so awesome that I was tempted to ask her for her autograph.
Seeing her was inspirational. Suddenly, I was filled with that strength and determination I spoke of earlier. I got up and gave that bunny slope everything I had in me. I had no intention of taking “no” for an answer. I still fell, but everyone falls. The important thing is to get back up and try again. And now I have a goal: to someday be that blonde girl defying gravity and making some other girl drool with amazement. I’m going back next weekend, so keep your eyes open. Maybe you’ll see me on ESPN someday.
Chrissy Bryant-Ramoneda is a senior at Live Oak High School. She alternates weekly with Melissa Ballard in writing Teen Perspective.
