Go Figure

"Hey you want to go snowboarding at Dodge on Sunday before the Super Bowl? Since I work there you can rent and get a lift ticket for free," my sister said, as she called me about a week ago, anticipating my being in town for the weekend of the Super Bowl.

Joelle goes to a school just south of Dodge Ridge. I drove up in my quick little Saturn on Saturday evening and spent the night on a lumpy futon. It rained all night long. That said, about two thousand feet higher, it was snowing. Lots. Chains required. Joelle and three other people usually pile into a 4 wheel drive and hike up the mountain to get to their varying jobs at the resort. I was a simple addition to the car, thankfully, since driving my car up the hill was way out of the question.

Since the other people weren't planning on leaving Dodge until 6pm, well after kickoff, I drove my car up the 108 until the road conditions worsened to the point that I didn't feel safe driving anymore. I pulled over on the side of the road, parked the car, and then hopped into the 4 wheel drive that everyone else was in.

Why did you only drive your car halfway up the mountain, you ask? Well, I figured that whatever coworker of Joelle's who was leaving work early to get home for the big game would rather not take a huge detour to the school just to drop some dude off. The only way down the hill from Dodge is the 108, so virtually anyone who showed up that day, would be passing right by my car on their way home. Win.

Got to the resort at 8am. Lifts open at 9am. I was one of the first to get to the top of the mountain. Not falling off the chairlift at the end was a good sign, as I was about three years out of practice. Oh, beautiful two feet of virgin powder that awaited. It was gorgeous. Of course, I became quite familiar with this deep powder almost immediately. Face first. For some reason, I decided to stray from the hard pack and go straight for the fluffy hillside. If only the last time I had been snowboarding wasn't three years ago. I might not have buried myself. It really is the worst - having to unbind yourself when you're up to your waist in powder. It sucks. Exhausted, I finally climbed my way back to the harder pack and started my run again, falling four of five times on the way down.

Naturally, as the day progressed, I reclaimed everything I once knew about the basics, turning, stopping, etc. Up and down the mountain a handful more times, and I was feeling pretty good about myself. The time to leave came faster than I had hoped. I went on one final run, flawless until then end. I got careless and as I was slowing down, the toeside of my board planted and I kissed the ground. Passionately. I didn't know my back could bend like that, but I felt like a slinky for about an hour after.

Joelle's manager had just left right before I checked in. She was going to be my ride down the hill. Cripes. Now what? Well, I guess I'll just hang out in the parking lot and ask people if they have an extra seat. Heh, sweet! I've never hitch hiked before. I was surprised at how quickly I scored a ride. Maybe it was my suave technique, or perhaps more than likely my pitiful disposition. In spite of the inconvenience I offered, after three "No's" I got a "Sure! I think we have a seat." Thanks Ryan, you saved my day.

Ryan was a leader/driver for a high school church group from Carmel (near Monterey). They had four vans loaded with kids who had spent the weekend at Pinecrest. Score. As we loaded the van, I struck up a conversation with a girl whom I had overheard earlier at the front desk in the lodge if anyone had turned in her lost camera. No luck. She left her information in hopes that it would turn up eventually. On my way down the mountain, Joelle called me up saying that someone turned it in.

The random guy that drove down the mountain with a high school group from Carmel is the brother of the employee at Dodge Ridge who recovered your lost camera. Go figure.

Flashback to leading the van - after talking to the girl about how it sucked her camera was lost (for the time being), I started talking to another kid named Joey about where I was from.

"Modesto? I'm from Modesto, but I moved to Carmel a few years back."
Strange. So I told him I went to Big Valley.

"I went to Big Valley too! I left after junior high though."
Very interesting. I wonder who he might know. So I started dropping names.

We have a mutual friend, Mark Anderson. Mark is Larry Anderson's son. Larry was my Drama/History teacher throughout junior high and high school, still a very good friend, and also whose house I was headed to for the super bowl party. Go figure.

Alright. Van's loaded. I hopped in. The driver is a guy named Brian Padoma. We get to talking about how I got into this lovely situation, how I have a mutual friend with one of the kids in his group, and other random stuff. The topic turns to Biola, where most of you know I studied for two years.

"Hey I know someone who goes there. A guy named Abe Sherman. You don't know him, do you?"

Abe Sherman. Writer of Ice Shield of Aletheia, the script of that huge film shoot in Michigan gone horribly awry in which I took part. Abe Sherman, who lived in my dorm. Yes, I know Abe Sherman. Go figure.

Brian was a cool guy. One of the guys in the van would dose off, so Brian would speed up a bit and make the tire chains clack against the frame of the van. High school language. Definitely in jest, but still - I won't dare repeat the things he said he was going to do to Brian when they got out of the van. I'll just chuckle to myself and sigh. Ah, high school. :)

We were getting pretty close to the spot where I parked my car that morning, and the snow was still really thick. I was getting worried I would either be buried in a drift, or unable to navigate the snow-covered roads with my two-wheel-drive without chains. I wasn't going to risk it. Right now, that car is my livelihood. Fortunately, the roads cleared four miles before we got to my abandoned chariot. Brilliant. Brian and I hopped out of the van, the rest of the caravan pulled off to the side of the road and waited. Just a bit of snow on my windshield, and some sludge around my tires. No big deal, we grabbed a shovel from the van, moved any snow in the way, and I pulled out just fine. I shook Brian's hand, drove by the parked caravan, honking and waving. To most of them, I'll be that "some random guy who hitched a ride with us," but to a few people there, connections have been made. It's a small world. Go figure.