This story takes place a long time ago. In
fact I don't really remember when it happened . . .
I was almost 10 years old. It was a sunny
February day. My dad brought me to Courchevel to see some friends of him.
Courchevel is a well famous ski resort in France. It's famous because it's where the rich
guys go to spend their money. In fact the resorts is awesome, with luxury
shops, expensive restaurants, nightclubs . . . but ski sucks.
Everything is
made to be confortable and easy. So if you are looking for really good ski
don’t go there.
Well, for the young kid I was, the resorts
didn’t matter. At this time a
slope was a slope and I wasn’t really taking care about something else. I’ve
been enjoying ski since the first time my dad put me on when I was 4.
But this day had been the first time I didn’t
enjoy ski. Everything was perfect. I was skiing on blue and red slopes as fast
as I was able to go. In fact, the slope’s ranking had always been a mind
barrier. When I was 6, I tried to ski on my first blue slope and then at 8 on
my first red one. Each time I was a little bit scared to go to the next level,
but each time it was a success and I was just enjoying my progression.
This time my dad and his friends decided it
was time for me to go to the black level. The black level . . . The hardest
level ever. I started to be really scared. When I went to the top of the slope
all my body was shaking. It was like if the slope just went down vertically in
front of me. I knew that it wouldn't be
as successfull as usual.
I just fell a first time 20 yards after the beginning of the
slope, and a second time 15 yards after. Then I had to finish the slope on my
butt because my skis token off from my shoes on a third fall, and went down
without me . . .
It really wasn’t a
success.
