Okay, this is funny.This didn’t happen to me, but it did happen to my dad. We’re going back over 30 years, either 1969 or 1970. My pop was a patroller at Mont-Joye, a small hill in the Eastern Townships, in Quebec. One day, he’s having lunch, when the call comes to the hut that someone on the hill is hurt, and to bring the sled. Well, daddy-o drops his lunch, grabs his jacket, throws his skis into the sled, and races off to the poma lift – a one-person T-bar, for those unfamiliar. (Remember, this is still the time of long woodies, leather boots and bear-trap bindings.)
Anyhow, pops gets to the poma lift, jumps the queue and is getting ready to get on the ride. The poma attendant has stopped the ride and is trying to grab my pop’s attention. “Um, Mr. T, um.” Dad: “Shaddup and start the poma. Can’t you see I’m on important business?” Poma guy: “Yeah, but…” Dad: “Listen, start the ride NOW.” Poma guy: “Well, okay.”
So, the attendant starts the ride up and my father is just standing there, seeing the spring on the poma just stretch and stretch. Damn, he realises that, in his haste, he’s neglected to put on his skis. So, naturally, once the poma reaches the end of the spring, it bounces back full force, launching my dad several feet into the air.
About a week later, my pop’s at another resort, riding the chairlift up the mountain when the guy sitting next to him says, “You know, you patrollers have quite the reputation. Did you hear about that idiot last week who tried to go up the poma without skis?”