Chairlift Confidential

(For those of you new to this recurring column, it’s modeled on the NY Times “Metropolitan Diary”. Snippets of life. A typical chairlift ride is about ten minutes long— the perfect amount of time to chat with a stranger that you have almost no chance of running into again. I hope you enjoy this occasional recounting of perhaps true chairlift conversations.)

For every action there is an opposite but equal reaction

A young man got on the Castlerock chairlift with a young woman who looked to be about his age, both of them in their mid-20s and lucky enough to ski on a mid-week powder day. 

She told him she had just moved to Vermont from Somerville, MA. 

How odd, he was moving to Somerville next week. 

She told him she moved north to be closer to her partner. 

How odd, that’s why he was moving south. 

She already missed spicy Korean takeout.

He told her he would eat spicy Korean takeout for her. 

Should I or shouldn’t I

Two of us got onto the Valley House chair on a cold day where the mountain’s grey skies and chilly wind kept most skiers away.  He was a talker and launched right in.

So, I have a dilemma, he said

OK

My girlfriend just broke up with me

OK

For the third time this season

This season, as in the one that started in December?

Yeah. That’s a lot, right?

Mmm, I mean kind of.

Maybe it should be over?

Isn’t it? She broke up with you, right?

Yeah. But I have to see her tomorrow.

Why torture yourself?

We work in the same office

That’s tough, I said.

Yeah. Maybe we shouldn’t date anymore.

By the light of your skis

Two of us got onto the chairlift. The sun was shining. It wasn’t too cold. No facemasks needed, finally. We chatted about the weather, how many days we had, how many kids we had, where we lived. When we got to where we worked, something sounded familiar. I looked down at her skis. Parlor Ospry with a High Fives sticker on them. 

“Wait, I know you,” I said. 

She peered at me. “You do?”  

“We rode up together yesterday. I recognize you by your skis.” 

Alternate vistas

On a very windy day, a man in his mid 70s unloaded his skis from his car next to mine.

“Windy today,” I said.

“Yeah, I should probably be playing golf in Florida,” he said.

“Not my idea of fun,” I said as the wind forced me to grab my glove before it sailed away.

“Yeah, not mine either,” he said. “I’d probably be sitting in Florida and reading the snow reports from up here and cursing.”

We laughed at our craziness.