Okay So. Today i was riding up the lift with my dad and my friend Tom, sitting in between them on a triple at the leviathan among mountains, Berkshire East. Now, every once in a while I like to tickle myself by playing a game in which I hold the restraining bar down until the very last second before we get off the lift or until my dad yells "holy shit" enough to make my eardrums bleed. So today I decided to play my little game, and as usual my dad told me how i was going to get us banned from the mountain and tom told me how stupid i am. As our skis touched the snow I hastily swung the bar upward and allowed tom and my dad to ski off the lift sitting for a little longer than them. (See Fig. 1 -my bad on forgetting the skis on Tom and my dad) I stood and began to ski forward when I felt a hard jerk on the chin strap of my shiny brand new Red Hifi audio helmet. The footrest of the restraining bar, with which my helmet was new entwined, came crashing down to the lowered position, as the chairlift, still running strong under the watchful influence of the lift attendant, began to pull me back around toward the bottom of the mountain. With a gagged shreak of horror i felt my skis leave the ground, my body entirely suspended by the chin strap that was now strangling me. (See Fig. 2) By this time I realized that the lift attendant wasn't stopping the chairlift and that if things continued this way I would either be hanged by my helmet, or, fall forty feet to my death...after being hanged by my helmet. The fact that my death was clearly immenent had just settling in as a bang like an m80 exploded next to my head and a gust of cold air filled my empty lungs. My helmet, a million bits of plastic shrapnel and I cascaded onto the icy slope in a heap. The strap that had cut into my neck now hung limp underneath the headphones that still had chunks of helmet attached to them which were held onto my head by my goggles. The remnants of my helmet skidded away as I lay there, and the lift attendent, who had only just stopped the lift came out and asked "You, alright?" the way someone might ask a toddler who was struggling to tie his shoes. I answered "Yeah I'm great." Missing the sarcasm he replied, "Raise the bar earlier next time." I got up massaging my neck and gathered up my helmet as Tom luaghed his ass off, totally insensitive of the fact that I would have died if Red helmets were more durable. These pictures don't do it justice, but they should help you understand what happened. Anyways, moral of the story, don't fuck around with the restraining bar, you might die.
Fig. 1
Fig. 2
Fig. 3
