Why is it that no matter how much you pay for your hotel, motel, lodge or condominium or how far in advance you make your reservations, you always get your deluxe room with a view right over the trash bin dumpsters?
Why is it that when you are driving on black ice at 20 mph the car coming out of the side street at 5 mph is skidding with all four wheels locked up and is going to hit you square in the driver’s side air bag?
Why is it that the runs on ski resort trail maps are always printed upside down? It is as though you are going to select a ski run from the parking lot instead of the top of the mountain?
Why is it that after standing in line for 10 minutes to buy your ski lift ticket, you discover that the line you have been waiting in is for cash only, no credit cards?
Why is it that the parking lot attendant treats you just like the other 2,654 cars that beat you to the parking lot this morning and he makes you park less than three inches from the car next to you? Is it so you can get your clothes muddy as you scrape along the side of the car?
Why is it that when you get hurt skiing, the ski patrol crew hauling you down on the toboggan is trying to set a hill record to get you from the site of the accident to the ambulance?
Why is it that when you go through the singles lift line, you wind up riding in the same chair with (choose one) your ex-husband or ex-wife along with their new for the winter, spousal equivalent? (I will add that, in all fairness, that is how I met up with my beloved wife 28 years ago, so it isn’t all bad … though I guess I should ask her opinion, too. No, better not!)
Why is it that when you take your skis off of the roof of your car and lean them against the side of your car, they always fall over and scratch your car when you open the door to get your gloves and hat that you once again forgot?
Why is it that when the parking lot is black ice, a 93-pound secretary that is shuffling along in open, rear entry boots thinks that she can make a 3,000-pound car stop before it hits her just because she wants to walk down the middle of the street?
Why is it that whenever you try and pass an 18-wheel truck it will automatically accelerate so the driver can cover your windshield with three inches of slush, ice and sand?
Why is it that the president of the company you work for will never wear anything to work except a dark suit and a contrasting tie, yet he goes skiing in an outfit that makes him look like the lead clown in the circus parade?
Why is it that the three people riding on the quad chairlift with you get several phone calls each and yours never rings?
Why is it that your wife and kids waited for you for a half hour at chair 11 at 12 p.m. and you waited for them at chair 10 at 11 a.m.?
Why is it that when the ski lift operators finally let you on the lift with 14 inches of new powder snow, the entire hill is already tracked up by ski instructors who have been riding the lift and skiing since 7:30 a.m., and they complain because they have only had six runs each before any paying customers got to ride?
Why is it that the buckle on one of your ski boots only breaks when you are tightening it up at the top of the mountain while you’re getting ready to make first tracks?
Why is it that when you buy a corsage for your wife to wear out to dinner on her 45th birthday, she gets upset because you found a beautiful plastic one that she can wear again on her 46th birthday?
Why is it that the website of the ski resort that you didn’t go to this winter, always has better snow than the ice you are now skiing on where you bought your season pass?
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