A Kitchen in Queens

As my dad headed off to a weekend wedding in NYC with his girlfriend, I headed out to the Poconos to go skiing for a day with some friends.  I had spent several days preparing for this.  Got my snow pants and a new ski coat-ish thing.  Picked up some gloves and a new snow hat too.  It’s only been about 12 years since I last went skiing, but I had heard it’s like riding a bike.   You never forget how.

After meeting our friend Erin, then waiting for 1/2 an hour for the Ski resort’s bus to pick us up and take us to the mountain, standing in line to get our lift tickets and ski rentals, standing in line for our ski rentals, returning our boots and getting new ones, finding a locker that worked and wasn’t full and then hobbling upstairs to the bathroom in ski boots that hurt my legs, I was pretty much done for the day. 

I informed my friend Wes that I was going to need to start on the bunny slopes to get my bearings and he said, “I thought you said you ski.” I responded, “No no.  I said I’ve BEEN skiing.  Totally not the same thing.”

Erin and Wes headed up to a larger hill and I went looking for the bunny slope.  I spotted a group of orange jackets which seemed to be related to the ski resort.  I pushed myself over to them with my poles and said, “Excuse me, how do I get over there?” and pointed to the small-ish hill with the “magic carpet” (a conveyer belt that is used to get skiers up a small hill rather than a ski lift).  A fresh faced kid with scraggly hair and freckles looked over at me and said, “over there?” I stepped with one foot to position myself into a better spot to speak directly to the kid, promptly crossed my skis, flailed my arms around trying to keep my balance and SLAM.  Fell right down into the snow.  Desperately trying to regain my dignity, I worked to pull myself up with my poles.  Failed at that.  Then I spent what seemed like an eternity trying to get my skis off.  A fence divided myself and this nice young man who could do nothing but watch me struggle.  Finally I stood up, skis in hand.  “Yes.  That hill over there.”  I said sheepishly. 

“Are you signed up for lessons?” The kid snickered.

“No.  I’ve skied before.  It’s just been a while.”  I was given directions and set off on my way.  After one successful trip up the hill and one semi-successful trip down, Erin joined me.  I started getting my bearings and made it down the hill three more times until we were joined by Wes, who immediately talked me into trying a bigger hill. 

By this time it was well past lunch time, and we were quite hungry.  Tired and hungry, my judgement may have been skewed.  “It’s still a beginner hill. It’s totally flat up at the top” said Wes, who opted NOT to get poles when we rented our equipment.  I blindly followed, jumping onto the ski lift with Wes and Erin, and decided that after my 4 small hills, I was ready for something tougher. 

Yeah….I was wrong about that.  The only saving grace?  We were going to be eating lunch after this hill.  And I was determined to get down it, even if it meant falling down…a LOT. 

Erin kept talking about some great burger place we were going to go to in the Poconos but couldn’t remember the name.  Burgers sounded amazing after this long day.  (we skied for like an hour or so, but it felt like 10) After falling 3 times and being unable to get my skis back on, I hitched them together and walked them down the hill until I reached a flatter area.  I skied up to Wes and Erin.  “What’s for lunch?”

We decided to return our skis and head out towards the highway.  As we walked to the tram, Erin remembered. “Red Robin!  That’s the burger spot!” From what I understood, Red Robin is a pretty run of the mill chain restaurant, but I was hungry enough not to fight it.  We were either going to eat at a restaurant on the way back, or at the resort, so this seemed to be the better option.

We ordered a massive amount of onion rings as an appetizer, and Erin drank 43 glasses of Strawberry Lemonade.  Ok, 43 might be an exaggeration, but I do believe it was 4 or 5.  I got a buffalo chicken sandwich for my meal and a side of broccoli.   It totally hit the spot after being out in the cold for that long.  Nice and crispy, I had no complaints and was thrilled to be sitting in a nice warm restaurant eating fried food. I love the way the package the sandwiches so that they’re easy to pick up and nothing will spill out. 

We spent more time driving than we did skiing ultimately, but it was a lot of fun regardless.  Here’s a picture of Wes and the onion ring tower!