Fudge

by me



One time when I was in Idaho, I went snowboarding with my good friend Travis.
Travis was a pretty decent snowboarder, and I took a first trip with him up to a place called
"Bogus Basin".  What a name.


It was my first time snowboarding, so I rented all the gears I needed and Travis showed me some basics at the base. I went down the bunny slope a couple of times, but it was so flat, which made it difficult to learn how to use the edges of the board.


So we got on one of the lifts, which Travis did say it was only going up to the middle,
where beginners and intermediate snowboarders ride.
It was my first time snowboarding, but I have skied several times in the past.
So I had a basic knowledge of ski resorts, such as what signs meant and stuff.

I saw the blue diamond trail signs fly by below me, and that's when I knew Travis was a big fat liar.
I looked at him and said,

"Hey, F U bro!"   (please excuse me of 15 years ago, I was a foreign juvenile).

He had a big smile on his face. I tried to push him off the chair for vengeance.
It swung pretty wild. We laughed out loud.


When we got to the top, I could see there were only single and double black diamond trails, let alone I never got on a lift being attached to a snowboard.

The unloading ramp was quite steep, and I launched myself like I just came off a catapult, since I had no muscle memories on this one. I went face down first, my legs tangled around the board like I was a freaking barbie doll being tortured by an aggressive infant. 
I was so flexible and agile back then, I was fine after a minute of recuperation. 



The trip down hill was no fun. It was a boot camp for my buttocks.
Like a masochistic monk of some sort, I did this about 5 times.
Well, I knew from other experiences, you know, no pain, no gain.
And after a couple of runs, I was starting to be able to cruise some parts of the ride.
My leg muscles were twitching and screaming from under my pants,
sweat was pouring out of my face like a kettle left boiling at high heat.
I must have looked like a die-hard nut, and I was.

Despite the theatrical expressions, I was cruising by the end of the day.
Travis was impressed, and told me, "you are crazy dude, but that was sick."


On other occasion at Bogus Basin,
I was on the lift by myself heading up, since Travis went to take you know what.
And I saw a pack of kids flying down on their snowboards.
One of them screamed as they passed right under the chair I was on.

"Fudge!!"

and another one also screamed,

"Oh fudge!!"

I couldn't see what was going on, since they already passed under me and were behind the trees.

I had no idea what "fudge" meant.
I doubted there was Mr. Kibbler standing on the side of the slope,
selling or giving away his marvelous inventions.
The fudge puzzled me for hours.


Later that day, I was cruising with Travis, and I saw the same pack of kids again in front of me.
So I screamed as I passed right by them, "oh, fudge!!"

They looked at me like I had five heads or something. Well, I couldn't really see their eyes covered by goggles, but they all looked back at me with puzzled expressions on their faces.

When we got down to the base, Travis asked me with a grin on his face,

"What the hell was that man? Fudge? What are you a Mormon?"

I looked back in anger as Oasis always told me not to do, and told him,

"Shut up Butt-Head, you are the moron!"

I said it in Beavis's voice.

(It was probably the most popular MTV show amongst the highschoolers I spent a year with.)

"Haha! Nah, dude, not moron, Mormon. That's classic! Your English is getting good man."

No, I didn't. I didn't know what Mormons were either.

Later on the way home, he explained to me what the whole
"fudge and morons" fiasco was all about.

Life was grand in Idaho.
Ignorance is bliss.



peace,


y