One Saturday in December of 2000 my friends and I drove to Alyeska. We popped into our skis and headed to the top. We skied for about an hour and a half until we couldn't stand the cold any more. My friends and I decided to ski to the Round House to warm up and eat lunch. Our parents all gave us some money, and we all pitched in to help pay for the bill.
While we were eating, my friend Jim told us about a jump he heard about and wanted to show us. So we gobbled down all our food until we were done and then hopped into our skis again and headed to the jump. While we all waited to build up our courage, we decided who would go first and who would go last. Sure enough, I was picked to go last.
Everyone was finished going off the jump and was waiting for me at the foot of the hill. But what I couldn't figure out was why they all went as slow as a turtle off the jump. Well, me being the brave one, I decided to get twice as much air as they did. I started going straight down the hill faster and faster. I hit the jump and got not twice as much air but three times as much. Well I now knew why they were all going off the jump so slowly. The landing was raw ice and as bumpy as the ocean's waves. I was going to crash for sure. I closed my eyes and got ready for the pain.
When I landed, both of my skis and both of my poles flew off. I also lost my goggles, hat, and one of my gloves. After I was thirty-five yards down the hill, I finally stopped myself from the long slide. My friends skied down the hill, gathering my belongings. When we got together, we all started to laugh. They said that I looked really funny, but they were glad that I was in one piece.
I put on my cold, wet hat and glove, and we continued having fun skiing.