The Slopes

These slopes are mine for the taking, I think to myself, as I stand atop the endless crowded hills on a snowy Colorado evening. I’m ready for this. AirPods in my ears set to the Snowboarding Playlist I created, I begin to jam my way down the slopes. 

The wind rushes past my body as I go down the hill, adrenaline casually flowing through my veins. I watch as the tall trees and ski lifts pass by. Dopamine fills my emotions. I make all the curves around the branches and signs. There is just simply no other enjoyment in life than this.

Right here. Right now. 

I lose myself in the ride. 

After a while, I stop to take a breath when I realize I have been boarding for about fifteen minutes. I heard this hill was long, but this one was crazy long. After I have caught myself, I continue down the slope.

All of a sudden, I stop in my tracks. Something is not right. 

I have seen this sign before. I just passed it a few minutes ago. The one pointing right that says DIAMOND HILL. I was lost in my thoughts, so maybe it just feels like I have been down here?

Doesn’t really matter, I think, so I go on my way. 

A few minutes later, I stop again. This is definitely not right. I’ve seen this tree branch before. It’s the one I dodged just when I started boarding. 

Am I stuck in some kind of recursion? I thought I'd been instinctively following the route. Paying more attention to the slopes, I decide to find my way back to the bottom before I get myself more lost. 

Then I see it again. The same DIAMOND HILL sign. 

What the hell? I’ve passed this. I’m losing my mind. I haven’t even seen anyone for the past five minutes now that I think of it. 

I start continuously snowboarding nonstop until I get somewhere. I realize my playlist has been playing in my ears for a half hour now. I’ve been stuck on this slope for a half hour now. I know they say the definition of insanity is repeating the same thing over and over hoping for different results, but at this point, all I am is desperate. 

Finally, I spot someone standing on the side on their phone. I call out to them. They turn their head to me. 

“Hey, I think I’m lost,” I say to the person. “Do you know the quickest way to get back to the bottom?”

“Of course,” they tell me. “I can help you get there. Follow me.”

I thank them, relieved that I’m finally going to find a way out of here. 

We roll along the snows for a bit as snow starts pouring from the sky dramatically. I do recall the forecast today saying we were going to get a foot of snow overnight. 

That’s when I notice the person starts to gain speed. I join their speed in unison. They are probably just as eager to get out of this drastic weather as I am. Not to mention, the sky is getting darker. 

Now they gain more and more speed. I call out to them, asking to slow it down a bit for me to catch up. They don’t hear me, though. 

“Hey,” I yell. “Slow down! Slow down!”

They have forgotten who they are helping. They have just gone merrily on their way. The more I try to catch up to them, the more their body just becomes abysmally smaller and smaller. I try to mock their speed, but this person is a much more advanced skier than I am a snowboarder. 

“Hey!”

At one point, they take a turn and I watch as their body disappears behind a group of trees. When I reach that point, I take the same turn. All I see is nearly fifty feet in front of me on the desolate slopes, where anything further is cut off by the heavy snowfall. 

I board around, looking and calling for them, anyone at this point. I can feel the cold of the weather bleeding through my thick jacket. My nose runs, and my goggles are difficult to see through the condensation.

That’s when I see it once more. 

The same damn DIAMOND HILL sign. 

I stop in front of it. I pull out my phone to check reception. No bars.

My knees drop to the ground. I hopelessly kneel in the thick snow in the middle of these never-ending slopes.