I swear, if I don't get out of the car soon, my head will explode. To my left, all I could see was the blackness of the night and the faint outline of trees, trees, and more trees. To my right, I had my obnoxious younger siblings, Rose and Whitman. My sister and brother never got along, yet they always insisted on sitting next to each other every time we were together in a vehicle. I was currently getting elbows to the rib from Rose, who was close to being in a full-fledged fistfight with Whitman. My parents chatted away in the front of the car, seemingly oblivious. I couldn't hear anyone over the Imagine Dragons blasting out of my iPod, which was probably the only thing keeping me sane. Thank God for music.

   An hour of suffering later, we had finally arrived. Nestled in the Mountain before us was Ski Martindale. It was our province's only ski resort, and I must admit, it was stunning. White snow glistened across the ground, illuminated by the golden streetlamps, providing light in the dark evening. As far as the eye could see, there were steep peaks, with lifts for the skiers and snowboarders. There were trails in the woods for cross-country skiers, and I could just spot a snowboard half-pipe out of the corner of my eye. A frozen pond was playing host to a large group of guests, skating in the beautiful December night. In the middle of all the attractions and surrounded by a circle of smaller buildings, sat the giant ski lodge where we would be staying. This looked like paradise.

   After checking in to our room and unpacking, I was longing for an escape. I decided to do a bit of exploring. Just down the hall was a quaint little lounge, with a roaring fireplace and a huge bookshelf. For me, the highlight was the giant window in the centre of the room. I walked over and looked out. My breath was taken away. I could see the faithful skaters dancing around on the ice and laughing. Other visitors were checking in for the break. The ski lifts had stopped for the night, but the slopes still intrigued me. I was picturing myself with a snowboard, a skilled professional, racing down the mountain with the wind on my back. This was merely a distant fantasy, however. I had only snowboarded once before in my lifetime. I was in fourth grade and at a local park with my Youth Group. I brought my ancient, piece of crap snowboard with me, because I couldn't find my sled. When everyone else was racing down the hill on their sleds, I decided to try out my board. I fastened my boots in, and took off. Mind you, I was very slow. My grandmother probably could have walked down the hill faster than I was going. But I was happy, because I was maintaining my balance and I felt super cool; like a real snowboarder. I was envisioning myself as an Olympic athlete, going for the gold. My fourth-grade dreams were then shattered when I accidentally hit a small pile of snow and flew up into the air. I came crashing down, and ended up bruising my tailbone. Great memories. I then heard footsteps approaching the room, which snapped me out of my daze. I forgot to mention that I am very socially awkward, and the thought of having to talk to a stranger absolutely terrifies me. I jumped out of my chair and took off in the opposite direction, towards my room. “Dude, the slopes were sick today!” “I know, we were killing it!” I could make out the sound of male voices, approximately my age. Yep, it was definitely time to go.

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