Kima, I can’t think of any Sigi stories that are ski related right now but here is one I remember, kind of, from about thirty years ago.
Kenny, a ski instructor friend and I decided to take a week in early March and work our way up Route 100 in Vermont, driving his Volkswagen Bug. Our first day stop was in Mt. Snow where we weaseled free tickets from the ski school and skied a lot with instructors who invited us to their New Years Eve party, a party in March for all the employees who had to work on the real New Years Eve.
We were on a real tight budget and got a reference to a very nice establishment that had a bunk bed in the basement, Kenny had the upper I had the lower, at $2 per, a real bargain. As we left that evening we walked through the dining room that had been set for next day’s breakfast, about twenty place settings.
The party was going to start late so we spent the earlier evening at a barn called The Old Baby, danced and hooked up with two friendly female skiers and asked them to come along to the party, which they did.
The party was smashing, decorated to the hilt, balloons, streamers, favors, hats, you name it and free booze. Now, unlike these folks at the party, Kenny and I had had a few or more before getting there and we snuggled a little in a corner with the ladies. When we woke up, the ladies were gone, the partygoers were gone and the lights were out.
After having slept, we got our second wind and an idea that only young ski instructors might have at 3 a.m. after a party. We worked our buns off collecting all the decorations, favors, hats, etc. and crammed the VW full, and I mean FULL. While driving back the balloons were making that squeaking noise around my ears. Then, to thank our host for the cheap beds we worked for a couple of hours like dogs to decorate the dining room, I had Kenny on my shoulders to reach the ceiling lights to string the garlands, we put a hat, a whistle or ratchet and some confetti with each table setting, a floating balloon tied to the back of each chair and finally went down and fell into a deep sleep.
The host woke us up by banging on the door and shouted, “breakfast”, so we got ready to see the reward of our labor. Since we had not met any of the guests we didn’t know what to expect. Everyone was there, they had started to eat and had their hats on, those streamers around their necks and their favors next to their plates. All had a straight face as they talked among themselves. We were disappointed that our dumb idea didn’t get any reaction, we sat down at the last two unoccupied places and waited for the food to come.
And waited, and waited, and waited, when a matronly lady stood up and banged on her glass with her spoon, pointed to us and said: “No breakfast for you, young men, go to your room now!”, and then all hell broke loose, horns blaring, balloons busting, ratchets ratcheting, a lot of laughter and hooting and hollering.
The host came over smiling and whispered to us: “Thanks, but you better clean up this mess before you go skiing”, which we did.
I’ve never worked so hard for a fifteen minute thrill as I did that night and day, but it was worth it.