Rebel without a clue (aka Ouch Pt. 2)

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I made one rule for myself for my ski trip to Germany: don't try anything stupid.

But much like bones, rules are meant to be broken.

Fortunately, my one foray into snoboard hotdogging ended without any serious injury and much like Lindsey Jacobellis' silver medal boardcross run: humiliating, but surmountable with enough BS and the whole "yeah, well I don't see you trying it" factor. There was a split second of a "My knee hurts and I want my mommy" moment when I thought I tore something, but after a few minutes of Peter Griffin pain management, I was able to finish the run and make it down to the bottom of the mountain. It's now late on Tuesday and the limp's almost gone. Whew.

Otherwise, the trip was awesome. I got to see some amazing snow-covered landscapes along the German autobahn and among the hills of Winterberg, stay at cozy 4-star hotel with amazing service and walnut icecream for dirt cheap, and experience the shame and failure/awesomeness of falling down on a t-bar lift, refusing to let go, and then overcoming all forces of gravity and friction to pull myself back up to complete the tow up the mountain. (This is a gentle appeal for more chairlifts at Winterberg).

Props to Shruti and Nick for driving while Adam and I slept like babies in the back seat both coming and going. Extra props to Shruti for not dying after whacking her head on the road after doing a Charlie Brown football kick on an ice patch in the middle of town, scattering all possessions across the street, and stopping traffic in both directions. And while I'm dishing out props, here's to Germans for simultaneously giving David Hasselhof a musical career and Norm MacDonald a large percentage of his Weekend Update laughs.

PICS

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