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Warren Miller

Have you ever wondered?
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I was making some turns down the side of the hill the other day and when it started to flatten out to where I could stand in line for a moment or two and rest, my brain started to wander a little bit. When I ski, I tend to wander and to wonder. Here’s what happens when I let my mind wander:

I wonder how the molecular composition of a snowflake on a catwalk is affected by 379,842 pairs of skis passing over it?

Where would the water have gone if it hadn’t been forced through the snow gun nozzles at high velocity to make snow?

What does the pretty ski patrol lady do during the summer to be in good enough shape to haul the toboggan down an ice covered slope and then lift one end of the 200-pound broken body into the waiting ambulance?

How can 12 ski resort employees live in a two-bedroom condo and still be good friends?

Why are there over a hundred different lift ticket prices at most major ski resorts? Why can someone who buys his groceries in a supermarket 100 miles away pay $15 less than you do when you buy your lift ticket at the resort?

Why is it that 30 years ago you skied all winter on the same pair of skis that cost less than $100 and you only screwed the edges back on when they fell off; however, today you need to file the edges of your $643 skis every time you use them?

What kind of car does the snowplow driver drive to work?

Why are most ski resort condominium purchases signed on the hood of a car within a half an hour of when the buyer’s airplane takes off?

Why is it that no matter where you are skiing, the snow report is always better at all of the other resorts?

Why is it that no matter how good the snow and weather is, someone always says, "You should have been here last week?"

Why do end of season ski sales always begin the first week of January?

Do all restaurant hostesses operate on a clock that only has ten minutes in one hour? They say, "You can have a table for six in ten minutes. I’ll call you in the bar."

Why do they always print ski resort trail maps as though you are going to be reading them while you are in the parking lot, so that at the top of the mountain you have to turn them upside down?

Why do people always get out of their car, take their skis off of the roof and lean them against the car while they are putting on their boots so that the skis can fall over and scratch their fenders?

Why does the lift loader who has a college degree in sports medicine and a masters in ecology smoke a pipe?

Why is it that when you finally have enough float left on your credit card to hire a private instructor for the day, he happens to be the kid who used to live down the street? He used to have long hair, a beard, wore an earring and tried to date your daughter when she was a freshman in high school.

Why did you save $20 on your room without a view, only to be woken up by the garbage man at 5:30 a.m.?

Why is the police car in the town you just went through at 3:30 a.m. always a plain, unmarked car that has spotlights on the roof that are bright enough to light up the city of Detroit while the overweight policeman writes you ticket for driving 35 mph in a 25 mph zone?

When the street is covered with black ice and an inch of new snow, why does a 93-pound woman walk out in front of your 4,000-pound Suburban thinking that you will be able to stop it in time?

This is why I really can’t stop when I’m skiing. My mind will wander into eternity. The one question my mind always seems to wander back to is: where does the white go when the snow melts?