Face to Fist The Police - Zenyatta Mondatta I used to love those last minute weekday ski trips. They usually amounted to an exhilarating day in the fresh mountain air and a long drive home with little else to talk about. This is rarely the case when you go skiing with Bruce. Four of us made a last minute decision to head East for a day of skiing. We made our decision late in the evening and it would require an early start so we gathered our gear and crashed at Pierre's place. His folks used to go to Florida for the winter so his house was "party central" for the entire winter, every year! I would say we got a couple hours of sleep and then we were on the road by 6:00 am. We had to beat the rush hour traffic to the other side of the city. We arrived at the hill just as the lifts were opening. Two of our four were actually skiers, myself not included. I just loved going fast and I suppose I got the hang of it but I was by no means good at it. Pierre and Scott were good. I define "good" as "in control for over 90% of the time you are moving on skis". Now Bruce also enjoyed going fast and he also seemed to gain a certain element of excitement from having no control what so ever. The entertainment Bruce was able to deliver with a messy run through some moderate moguls was incredible. There was a complete absence of control as he bashed up and down. If you have ever seen a useless skier lose it on a bumpy run it is the funniest damn thing. He usually starts slowly with a little reservation. Then makes it around the first two bumps a little awkwardly but well enough to gain a bit of confidence. This is where the problem starts. He puts his feet together and accelerates. The next bump is messy as his timing is way off. Weight too far forward, legs hyper extended, his hands hit the ground and legs split apart. Bad form? Yes! As he turns sideways he manages to get a pole out and into the side of the next bump as it blazes past. He gets his weight back over his feet, he struggles to bend his knees but now (for a second) he seems to have it. This is were the real Olympic entertainment begins. He is no longer going between any bumps he is going OVER all of them and with each bump he is going faster and hitting harder and harder and flying higher and higher. Until finally on one ski with legs behind him he slams chest first into the last row of bumps. He has completely winded himself and is gasping for air. When he gets his wind back he explains in detail, the pain he has in his left knee, but he has no idea how it happened? Well that's how I do it! On this fine day. We all raced down to watch Bruce in all his glory but it seemed we had gone a little too far down the hill and we had no view up the run. A few moments later Bruce came around the corner clutching his face and there was blood spilling from behind his gloves. We asked him what the hell had happened? He could not reply right away but he muttered something about a punch in the face. Well the three of us instantly prepared for a rumble and demanded he identify this bastards as soon as they came around the corner. Bruce raised his hand and started to explain. "You see I was coming down the run in my famous Bruce Tuck. I was really picking up speed and the little bit of snow in the air was making it hard to see. Before I could react I came up on a couple that were stopped with their bodies facing up the hill and looking back down. The guy who was on the inside of the trail exactly where I was approaching had hands firmly in the poles and the poles firmly planted in the snow. You see I skied into his fist". Well needless to say this is where the laughing began. 4 hours later as we pulled into the driveway at Pierre's place the laughing began to subside. We all went inside and watched the hockey game.