I was around 6yrs old the first time I went skiing. My family took my older brother, younger sister, and me to Alpine Valley in Wisconsin. It was one of those radiostation days where you (and a billionty other people) get lift ticket, rentals, and a 1/2hr lesson for $20 or something.
We had our lesson and started skiing...I was picking it up quicker than my brother and sister; I was having fun and and they were not. We ate lunch and went back out with specific instructions to stay together (my parents don't ski, thus the instruction). After a run or so, I took off b/c they were lame and I was awesome. I started w/ some blue square runs; at first, I was prolly somewhere in between being out-of-control, straight-lining, and going back and forth across the entire run...but pretty soon I was actually learning how to ski. I did those almost the rest of the day..but as I knew it was getting to be the time to leave....and as I was handling the blues OK (in my mind), I figuered I just had to try a black diamond run.
I got off the lift and headed down the run..I made it about 100 feet...yard sale...picked myself up...started going...hit a mogul...double eject...pick myself...I managed to pick the mogul run. At the time, I didn't even know what a mogul was...I just knew I wanted to try a black and that was the first one I saw when I got off teh lift. I was lucky I was in Wisconsin b/c if that run was any longer than 1000', I would have died as I proceeded to crash every 50-100 feet (I know that at least 1 or 2 had to be pretty spectacular). That was the day I was hooked on skiing and the first time I "skied" a black diamond.
The reason I remember it well was b/c as I got towards the bottom the moguls stopped and was actually able to get going. As I approached the run-out, my mom and dad along with 5 or so ski patrol were standing there...my dad looking especially angry. He yelled for about a minute or so about how I was supposed to stay with my brother and sister, about how everyone was ready to go an hour ago, and how they got patrol b/c they knew I was lost; they spent the last hour or so looking for me for an hour or so on the bunny slopes and green circles...then he just started laughing at me (bro, sis, and ski patrol joined in...my mom did not laugh). He said they saw me from about 1/2 way down and my entire family along with ski patrol proceeded to watch me crash my way down the run.
I think that's one of my father's favorite stories...because he tells it to anyone within earshot everytime I am in his presence and the word "ski" comes up. So my answer is: the first time I ended up on a black run was b/c I was too dumb to know any better.