BREWSKI  SKI TRIP 

(Things are looking better in my life; Oh, and by the way I opened my first bottle of homemade root beer. It had just the right taste and fizz.  The only problem (if it is a problem) is that it might have more than the expected 2% alcohol level. I drank the bottle an hour ago and I still feel a little tipsy.  I hope the revenuers don't catch me!)

Someone recently asked if I knew how to ski and I told them about my first (and thank goodness) only skiing trip. It was an interesting adventure.

In 1954 I had a good friend named Dan Carr, beloved son of the Philadelphia Chief of Police and a very nice guy.  We had studied Morse Code together in Biloxi, Mississippi.  Dan was a better student than I was, so he was picked to study Russian Morse Code at a secret German location. We kept in touch by encrypted letters.

 In one letter, Dan asked if I would like to spend a three-day pass with him at Garmisch-Partenkirchen, where the U.S. Army had confiscated a famous mountainous ski resort. To get there required an automobile in good-enough condition to maneuver through constant ice and snow.

Bribing a supervisor with my cigarette ration I finagled the required three-day pass.

Somehow Dan was able to pick me up at my supposedly secret location.  He arrived in a 1929 Duesenberg sedan that I bet had 12 cylinders, and we traveled at an unbelievable rate of speed on the Autobahn. Nobody passed us.

After we drove up narrow icy mountain roads we arrived at our destination and I was able to once again feel the blood in my knuckles.

We were given a classic room with a fireplace and lots of cookies and a cooler filled with potent German beer.

We went down to one of the restaurants and had some tasty Wiener schnitzel mit Eier and lots of German beer and wine at ridiculous low prices.

After the meal we watched one of the many musical and comedy shows that seemed to be always running. 

The next night it was the same routine, when we suddenly remembered that we were there to ski.

Early the next morning we had some breakfast washed down with a couple of beers. and went to be fitted with our ski equipment.  

Dan was an experience skier and immediately jumped on a lift to be taken to the top of the highest slope.  Since I had never skied before I got in line with the little kids who were getting instructions.

(Word to the Wise: Never try out new skis after you have had German brewskis!)

I followed the ski instructor's teaching and was able to keep up with most of the kids.  I convinced myself that I was now a skier and slid off to find a slope to practice on.  As you have already guessed I entered on a slope meant for skiers who knew what they were doing.

I started out OK, but as my speed increased I lost my poles and one ski and had no control.  On the sides of the slope were large trees that separated the slope from the edge of ravines.  There were spaces between the trees and, if I thought at all, I was hoping that I wouldn't crash through and fly off the mountain.

Luckily, I hit one of the trees.  That probably saved my life.  Dan found my crumpled body and arranged for medics to carry me to a Red Cross station.  Besides a lot of bruises, nothing was broken or hurt except my pride.

Dan decided that we should leave before anything else transpired.  We packed the Duesenberg and began our journey down the mountain. After going a few miles we slid on the icy road and once again had an encounter with a tree.

Dan was Ok, but I sustained some new bruises and cuts, but nothing was broken, so I did not need the Red Cross again. 

The car was a little off the road and something had broken underneath.  We saw a farm house not far in the valley and slid to it.  The farmer was very nice and said he would fix the car.  He set up a team of horses that pulled the car to his farmyard.

The fix would require a little time to fix, so the farmer's wife made up a featherbed for us to sleep in that night.  The next day at noon the car was fixed and towed back to the side of the road.

The farmer did not want to take any money and my money had been spent on German beer. Dan had a "slush fund" hidden in his coat lining and insisted on giving the farmer a rather large bundle of German Marks. We continued home without any more problems.

(PS When Dan and I were settled in that warm featherbed cocoon, Dan watched until he thought I was asleep.  Then he recited a Catholic prayer and at the end he said: "Dear God, please forgive me for getting into that accident and harming my friend Joe."  He then began to sob for a long time.)

Dan was a good buddy but he probably got involved with a lady and our paths diverged. We lost touch.

...........................................................................

Go and ski some more.