Skiing's version of Twas the night before christmas

‘Twas the Night Before my Ski Trip

The thoughts of fresh snow flakes flourished arouse.

Everyone was excited for the next day to come,

But my mom was still packing, oh what a bum.

My stuff was already, packed, sitting to go,

In hopes that I was not the only one so.

I had my skis in one hand and poles in another,

Sitting around still waiting for my mother.

I then placed the skis in the trunk,

Along with a few bags of junk.

I had done everything I can to help get a goin’

Yet my mother still was not ready, my rage started growin’.

The weather outside was 50 degrees,

I live in New Jersey, there truly lacks cold breeze.

I’ll get in my car to drive a long way,

In hopes that elsewhere some snow might lay.

But first to my friend’s house, gather him and his stuff

Everyone has pictures stuck in their mind of good ol’ white fluff.

I could be going out west but the money is tight,

So we head up north and skip out on the flight.

The drive some find long,

I don’t mind, pass the time with a song.

We head to the lodge, a great place to stay,

There are plenty of friends around, a game of poker we’ll play.

I can’t wait till tomorrow, where on the mountains I’ll be,

Skiing around, yeah it’s much better the Glee.

Wake up in the morning before the sun rises,

I look out the window and see the best of surprises.

Two feet of fresh snow had fallen last night,

Good thing I’m up early, beating the massive crowds might.

We contemplate which mountain be best, better than the rest,

Stratton or Killington I don’t know which to conquest.

There isn’t much I know that’s better than heaven,

But skiing’s damn close, I’d give it 7 out of 7.

Get on that first chair lift, all up and about,

There’s not much in the world that could give us a pout.

Everyone clipped in their bindings, of course Ryan is last,

Snowboards can’t navigate flats, they’re just stuck in the past.

3 of us ride on 2 planks, the way we choose best.

Strolling down the mountain, cold air in my chest.

Willie called Ryan and Ryan called Matt,

Mark had just spotted for a trail call Big Pat.

Down the slope and into the glade we ski,

Pop a 360 and avoid every tree.

Under, over, around each part of the wood,

If it were not for school, ski every day, we should.

Flying down the mountain, fast as can be,

I wish that good things like skiing came free.

There’s nothing quite like making turns in the snow,

Turning around only your tracks for show.

It’s like being super human with goodness strapped to our feet,

Skiing must be experienced, so quit being boring and get off your seat.

After a day out, we are all done and tired,

With thoughts of the next day, more days on the slope desired.

The drive back to lodge is mellow and calm,

Ending the night with steeze in a bomb.