Hidemi's Rambling No.392

There is a skiing ground close to my apartment and I see people skiing down the slopes out of the window everyday. I’ve never skied in my life. Watching them ski, I sometimes feel like giving it a try myself. But every time, my trauma from my childhood deters it. One summer, my family went to a barbecue restaurant along with our neighbor families. I had a fever that day but had to go because we had planned and made a reservation long before. The place was situated in the mountain and we needed to take the chair lift to get there. Everyone got on a lift smoothly, except for me. I just couldn’t get how to hop on a moving chair. It was too scary for me. I missed quite a few chairs while our neighbors wondered what I was doing. At last, I managed to catch a chair with my father’s help. During the short trip on it, my dangling feet in the air were nothing but a horrible sight. I was also being swallowed by a fear of getting off. In the end, I tumbled off the lift in front of the neighbors’ curious eyes. I don’t think my fever caused this embarrassment, but my natural inability did. I couldn’t enjoy a barbecue, as all I was thinking was to take that dreadful chair lift again when we left. To clarify how embarrassed I was, I confess this is what happened when I was already in the fifth grade. I can’t ski because I can’t get on a chair lift to the slopes in the first place…