I moved out to Lake Tahoe from Emporium, Pennsylvania after graduating from West Virginia University in 1995. I grew up in a small, rural town; population roughly 2,500. One stop light in the whole county. Moving to Morgantown, WV for college was like "big time" for me. I mean there were like five stop lights downtown alone! So, Lake Tahoe was very much like home for me immediately. There were only two stop lights between our cabin and my place of employment, which in itself, has a funny story attached to it.
When I moved out to Tahoe, I purchased a one-way ticket and really, like much of what I've done in my life, had no plan. I just wanted to get out of Emporium. I moved out with my boyfriend at the time. He had family that lived in Reno, NV and Lake Tahoe was just a stones throw away. Coming into the Tahoe Basin for the first time must be amazing for anyone. You drive up this curvy road with mountains all around you then suddenly they fall away and this expansive, gleaning lake inside a bowl of snow-capped peaks sits before you. I was needless-to-say, captivated by the entire region from day one.
I am an athletic girl, so the thought of working at a ski resort didn't scare me, even though I didn't know how to ski. I figured it couldn't be that hard, after all, my boyfriend had been skiing his whole life. ; )
I met the woman who ran the ski school. She was a fiery, petite woman from New Zealand. She looked me over, called one of my references right there with me in the room and hired me on the spot! She said to me and I will always remember this, "Jill, I'm not hiring you because you can ski; I'm hiring you because I like you. Don't let me down."
So, my boyfriend's mother gave me all of her used ski equipment, from the 70's and off I went. Imagine me entering the ski school the first morning. There, with my grocery bag filled with 1970's era ski garb, totally unprepared for the utter coolness of the teens who worked in the center. I mean, come on, they live in Incline Village, NV, aka Income Village. They eat, breathe, sleep coolness. I'm from BFE Pennsyla-tucky. I know that you could hear a pin drop as they all turned around to check me out. And when I busted out the ski suit, well, I'm surprised that there wasn't more of a reaction. I will give them that.
I've never been downhill skiing before. Okay, there was that one or two times I went to Wisp, MD for what they called "Two for Tuesday" night skiing. To me it was more like a torturous military exercise in fear-based psychological warfare. I mean, first of all it was freezing. Second, the "snow" was hard-packed ice. And finally, it was AT NIGHT! So, when the ski instructor called for us to all put on our gear and head up the mountain for a group lesson I was absolutely terrified. I looked at the ski school director who hired me and said, "you don't expect me to go up there, do you?" and she just smiled at me with this look on her face like, "get out there or your out!". Gulp.
So, I got on the chair lift without much trouble. Sitting on the chair, floating up, up the side of the mountain, I looked down. I could see jagged boulders peaking out of the snow drifts. There was a group of student racers practicing going through the gates. They couldn't have been more than ten years old and they were flying down the hillside. I looked back behind me and there was Lake Tahoe, more magnificent and stunning as ever. It was time to prepare to exit the chair lift. Double Gulp.
Okay, smooth sailing. I didn't fall down. I made it. The slope sort of gently rolled off to the left. "This is easy" I said to myself. I joined the others in formation. The director gave us some pointers and some other kind of instructions that I really didn't understand. "I can totally fake this" I thought to myself. So, one by one the student instructors all started down the hillside in front of us. One by one I saw them drop off this rather precipitous edge of a freaking cliff that no one in their right mind should be going down, let alone with these freaking contraptions called skis on their feet. I came to the edge. I was the last in line. The entire class was lined up perfectly mid-way down the slope, looking at me; waiting. Triple Gulp.
I thought I could just turn around. I think I even said that out loud at one point "is there another way down this fucking hill?" I frantically looked for an out. A broken ankle? I'm suddenly coming down with a fever? Something? No. I had to do this. I had to ski down the hill in front of all of these god-forsaken trust-funders way too-cool for school teeny-boppers!!!!
So, down I went and at first everything sort of blacked out. I may have closed my eyes. I dropped into the slope, "pizza, pizza, PIZZA!!" and my legs, toes, heels, knees, hips, everything gave out from under me and I slid face up beneath the ski school director. I literally slid like 15 feet down the line in front of those kids and landed right there, looking up at her with this sort of, "well, I told you I didn't know how to ski" look. She warmly smiled at me and called for one of her lead instructors to take me to the bunny slope.
Humiliated yet grateful that was finally over with I gladly "pizza-ed" my way down to the bunny slope. The instructor was very sweet to me. She made me feel okay about what happened. I honestly didn't have a problem with it at all. After a few runs on the bunny slope I was actually skiing. By the end of the season I was skiing black diamonds, snow boarding and learning how to telemark. I told you I was an athlete.
Never once did one of those kids make fun of me. Never once. I look back on that experience as one which truly helped me grow as a person. I mean, forever, I would have that moment in my memory bank to help me keep my chin up no matter what embarrassing thing would present itself. Deep down I am a good person, who can be charming and fun. By the end of that first season I had developed real friendships with some of those instructors. By the second season I was getting private lesson requests. I went from not knowing how to ski to being a ski instructor in one season....I guess, growing up in Pennsylvania, I never had planned that to happen in my life and yet it did.
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