Snow, sprinkles and mad danger

Of course it’s the Nibblet’s fault.  It has to be.  I’m far too sensible to do stoopid shit like this on my own.  To be fair, it’s a rare day when Dillsboro catches a foot of snow.  It’s almost as rare as WCU canceling classes due to snow.  So I guess there were environmental issues at work as well as raw sprinkle-headedness.  I was fucked when I let the Nibblet share couch space and a blanket with me.  For those of you have led deprived lives, you might not know the Nibblet.  You life is lacking due to this.  You should adjust yourself accordingly.  Imagine combining an uber-hot hippie chick with a pixie.  You get a lot of strange noises, positive energy, sparkly sprinkles, and yummie hugs.  Since she is one of my Orange Belts, you might also get your ass kicked if you interfere with her elemental happiness.  There is another thing to remember about the Nibblet.  She is communicable.  You get some sprinkles on you, you find yourself believing anything is possible and even likely.  As I write this, she is in the kitchen contaminating the Midget.  Hearing the Turbo Midget giggle like a six year old is one of the creepiest sounds ever.  Believe that I have the 12 gauge out and it is loaded with deer slugs and dimes.

Anywho, another thing that you must know about the Nibblet is that she is a snow addict.  I mean crackhead addict.  She starts twitching and quivering, and puppy-wiggling all over the place if somebody says the word “snow” on a hot day in July.  She is off the fucking chain right now.  You know the little ball that flew all over the place in Men in Black and broke everything?  Put kinky blonde hair on it and turn up the energy level about 150% and you have a good idea of what is happening in the kitchen right now.  Remember when I said she was communicable?  Remember when I said I was on the couch with her?

Next thing I know, I am wearing snow shit and everyone is looking at me like I said something.  Oh fuck it.  We grab DR’s sit on top kayak and wander over to Monteith Park in Dillsboro.  There is a pretty steep hill with only one chain link fence in the area.  Well, there are all those pesky curbs and concrete slabs and what not, but they were under a couple of inches of snow.  Under the Nibblet’s influence, I figured that if I could not see it under the snow, it must not exist.  Seriously, the girl has that effect on you.  It’s like her sprinkles tank your IQ.  For the record, a couple of inches of snow does not prevent concrete barriers from knocking your teeth loose.  Just putting that out there…

We had a couple of solo runs a piece before I figured out that the girls were softer than the ground, so we started doing group runs down the slope.  That was much better, but on the last one, the Midget developed a serious list to port, and Nibbles went with her, inverting the sled and dumping us in a heap.  Nibblet ended up landing on me, and she got some more sprinkles on me.  I decided that bad-assery quotient was not full enough.  I scouted out a serious hill and we assessed it.  As soon as we decided that it was too dangerous to attempt, we also decided we needed a jump to go with it.  Did I mention that I was Under The Effect?  Picture a steep ass hill about 70 feet long.  Put a ditch at the bottom.  Fill the ditch with snow to hide it from observation.  Now have a cracked-out snow bunny build a jump at the far edge of the ditch we did not know was there.  I went up the hill and then climbed to a higher elevation on a snow covered path that could potentially add 60 feet and one death turn to our run.  It turned out to be a bust.  The banking was wrong and I had to tilt so far starboard that I was riding on my right hipbone to keep from going off the edge and down about 140 feet into the parking lot.  Not cool.

An astute reader might note that I mentioned a hidden ditch right in front of the jump.  How do I know about it if it’s hidden?  Well, it’s like this…  during the construction of the jump a lot of snow had been moved around and there was now an 18 inch ditch just prior to the jump.  It was not a gradual, sloping ditch that would add to the effectiveness of the jump.  Nosir.  It was a stop-right-the-fuck-here, grab-the-tip-of-the-kayak, flip-the-motherfucker-over-on-your-pointed-little-noggin straight-the-fuck-up-and-down sort of ditch.  Now, the Nibblet is a way experienced ski and snowboard instructor with thousands of working hours under her belt.  The Midget is an honest-to-god engineer, and I have done both construction and ballistics for decades.  You’d think one of us would have said ”uhhh…”  

This

This is the power of sprinkles.  We all saw the inherent fail.  We all knew this was an emergency room visit for at least one of us.  A fucking five year old would have spotted this.  We all saw it.  We were all under the influence.  Nibblet was cracking out, and we were sprinkle compromised.  I said “the top of that jump is going to bust like a house brand rubber at a ten dollar Mexican bordello.”  Midget said “we all go together!”  Nibblet said “ooooH  Ahhhh  ughie! twhee! Whazzawah! YAH!”  Seriously.  You have to know the girl.  Fully realizing the impending fail le piled onto the kayak and launched ourselves over the cliff.

Straight into the face of death, dismemberment, and a ride in the wah wah wagon.

We never even got close.

Missed the jump by at least 10 feet and ended up ass over elbow in the parking lot.  After much good nature giggling, wiggling, and then having to suppress a Midget-led uprising, and lay a snow smack down, we wandered home.  Frozen solid, tired, and wet, but none-the-less victorious.