A few years ago, about when I turned the ripe ol' age of 21, young and bulletproof, know-it-all, young kid, I decided to try the new sport of snowboarding. What a great idea, go up to the mountain and bomb down the hill just as they do in the video's, it looks easy...

I talked to some of my buddies and they're ready to go anytime and stoked that i wanna try it out. Kory Kelly hooks me up with his snowboard and bindings. It's an old, ugly Burton, with pennies acting as reinforcement for those pieces moving. Kory tells me, 'hey no problem, it's a great board to learn on, you'll do fine.' Hey, I don't have any pants. Again, Kory comes to the rescue with some pants. But, not just any ordinary pants. These things are canary yellow, about five years old, and stained. Actually, i'm not sure if they were actually yellow, but maybe more black, with some hint of yellow. And to top it off, they're just a wee bit small, but they'll work. Sweet, I have pants. Now boots? I can use my Sorels, those eskimo boots with the fur sticking out the top, nice and toasty warm. However, not much support, rather, no support. But they'll work. I have a hat, gloves, long underwear, turtleneck, and black jacket, which might have been Kory's old one, but I can't remember. No goggles, don't really need them, and the attitude. So, i'm set, have the board, boots, pants, jacket, gloves, and hat.

A couple nights before the big day, Kory suggests that I go out and try on the board and get some last minute tune-ups in. I have never ridden a snowboard, but feel as though it would be easy. So I set out across the street where there is a small little hill, about five feet long, very small. Strap in, stand up, fall down. Stand up, fall down