By Merisa Sherman
We shuffle though the lift line, our neckies pulled up over our noses in the crowd. I look over one shoulder, then the other, to see if we have moved up any relative to the strangers on either side of us. I work my skis forward, just a bit, unable to break the decades-long habit of “working the lift line.” Those formative childhood years of ducking underneath adults when they were looking the other way to get ahead in the alternating lift line years.
But I’ve come a long way from those days, and I sigh as I wait patiently. I lean forward on my too-tall, ski racer’s poles and acknowledge that I’ll get to the front of the line eventually. There’s no more rush, just acceptance as I chat with the friends beside me in line. It doesn’t matter when we get to the front anymore, because we need the extra time to finish our conversation.
I slide my ski sideways, covering it with snow. I can’t sit still for long, so I use this time to work on my rudiments. You’ll see me standing on one foot, transferring my weight from edge to edge as I work on increasing my muscle memory. I love being trapped where I can play with my balance, practice variable edge angles or explore simple rotary movements.
Finally, we come to the front of the corral and look to see if we have beaten the rest of our group. We start to come alive, like racers in the starting gate prepping for action. As the liftie points to our row, we shuffle quickly toward the scanners not wanting to leave an open chair on a busy day. Taking a quick look at our lineup, I take a quick step back and to the left one slot, making sure that I am positioned on the BF’s right. He, I notice, has shuffled to the far left of the chair as we prepare for the inevitable confrontation with the scanning machines.
They should set up a camera here, for a comedy segment in the classic Warren Miller style complete with a heckling voiceover. Even three years later, I still struggle to get that thing to beep on the first try. Lift a leg, wiggle your belly, shake your arm, take a gate to the gut. It’s like playing an anxiety causing version of the hokey pokey while people back up behind you. Maybe I’m too old-school and miss the laminated ski passes with the floating heads too much.
We come through the scanners and check our lineup. The BF is still on my left so I’m happy. If it’s a cold day, I might yell out “girls in the middle!” to keep me warm and toasty and protected from the wind. I miss being so snuggly warm, squished in between the BF and my dad on the Glades Triple — I was never cold riding in-between them.
As I wait for the chair, poles ready to tuck under my legs, I notice that our friends are in the same spots as the last lift ride as well. She’s on the outside because of her snowboard, so I’m still squished and warm between two guys. I love it. For some reason, even though we have have never ridden together before, we managed to work out our assigned seats for the chairlift without saying a word.
We ride the lift in the same order, every run, every day. No exceptions. Some of us even ride the lifts in the same order, finding comfort in the pattern and the consistency. While it is almost impossible to ski the same trail without taking a different line, we need that assigned seat on the chairlift. I need that second from the left seat on the way up. And, what’s super neat is that my friends figure that out. It only takes one run for us all to be aware of each other’s preferences, to respect the seating arrangement that makes everyone comfortable.
I don’t know why this works, but how could you not see the magic of the ski community in this moment? We notice each other, we notice friends and even strangers. Without saying a word, we make sure that the other feels comfortable. Ever gotten on a gondola and have people shuffle around because that one friend gets queasy looking down the mountain? That is this moment.
There is no judgment here. We make sure that the other feels safe while we are flying together through the sky. Skiing and snowboarding might be individual sports, but we all ride the lift together. Plus, it is the best place to take a selfie while on the mountain. And that, my friends, is a beautiful thing.
