Skilarious
Did a week's ski school in Bulgaria in the mid 1990s - strange place, but interesting. Six of us on the school, one of whom was a sprawling female mess of lard and facial hair from Sarf Lahndan.

And I mean big - I couldn't believe this woman could ever move on a pair of skis - I'd have confidently predicted them to grind to a halt under her weight. Initially I admired her guts (there were after all, plenty of them) but as the week progressed, it became apparent that guts equated to a total lack of self-awareness. She was a right fucking pain on every level.

We were supposed to be an intermediate group but she was far and away the worst, causing endless resentment since we had to wait for her every time we went anywhere - her wobbly snowplough down an easy red run had to be seen to be believed. She wouldn't admit she was complete beginner level and, we found out later, no other instructor would take her.

But of course her biggest problems were always going to be on the lifts. It always took her three or four attempts to get on one and getting off at the top generally sent her careering off in an unintended direction.

This particular day we used a button lift where the track steepened quite a bit before hitting the bump on the crest. Everyone found it a bit tricky to get off at the top but this time, instead of dismounting ungracefully and wobbling unsteadily away she fell off just over the bump - and of course, couldn't get up again.

The instructress and I were both at the top, we quickly ditched our skis and tried to pull her up - god knows what she weighed, but no way was that ever going to be a possibility. There were a few empty buttons behind her but as we frantically tried to raise her we were aware that there was a line of people getting closer and closer. She and I looked at each other and, without saying a word, just let go of her arms, scrambled back to where we'd left our skis and settled down to watch.

I don't think the people behind could quite see what was going on - the first one came over the bump, let go of the drag, and fell flat on his face on top of her. The second fell over the first, the third tried to go off to one side but again fell over, the next went the other way and disappeared down the slope into some trees.... within seconds there was a pile of bodies helplessly waving every available limb. I remember thinking it looked like something from a 60s cartoon, all static bodies and waving arms.

I don't think I've ever seen anything so farcical. I cried laughing - I mean really, really cried. The instructress, try as she might to avoid it, also cried with laughter. The body count increased but there was absolutely nothing we could do - in the end they had to stop the lift while everyone managed to pick themselves up.

And it took three strapping Bulgarian instructors to drag whatever her name was to her feet again - one pushing from behind while the other two pulled her up. Which made me feel much better.

The last thing I saw, as we finally set off down the run, was the friend of the guy who went the wrong way off the slope still shouting "Hans? Hans?" into the trees. Fuck knows what happened to Hans. He's probably still there somewhere.
(zebideedoodah likes florence but prefers venice, Mon 6 Oct 2014, 1:00, Reply)