Snowbird, Utah

After my trip to Colorado in April, most of the opportunities for any more snow skiing in the Eastern US were pretty much done even if there was adequate snow around to have a decent skiing experience without excessive rock skiing. Maybe a few places in Vermont or Maine might operate until late April but they'd all shut down after that. Later, I found out that had more to do with the liability insurance associated with the ski property than maybe having adequate snow. If the cost of extending the insurance was more than the profitable revenue that could be generated by remaining operational, the ski area would shutdown. Some operations might go into weekend only operation if it remained profitable.

I had gotten quite a number of ski days in during my first real ski season and I had made really impressive gains in my skiing ability since I first fought with my new skis in December 1985. I had progressed to even longer skis and wasn't as intimidated by the more difficult slopes. I still wasn't comfortable in the bumps as getting the timing down in the moguls seemed elusive. But steeper slopes were less intimidating and I wouldn't automatically limit myself to "blue square" slopes. In February, after floundering around in deep powder, I finally had the ah-ha moment of skiing powder. The same principals apply as skiing on packed snow and it's a completely different execution of those principles. Believe me when I tell you that one of the coolest (and scariest) sensations is feeling the treetops slide along your ski and past your boot when your skis are a foot or more blow the snow surface. But powder skiing in the East was pretty limited.

I knew that skiing in Utah was famous for its powder skiing and there were a number of resorts around Salt Lake City. In fact, I had been to Brighton in July 1965 when the ski area ran a lift as a sightseeing operation overlooking Salt Lake City and the Great Salt Lake. But late in the season? Probably not such a great chance.

It just so happened that I was invited to make a presentation at a national conference to be held in Salt Lake City the week prior to Memorial Day on some of the work that we had been doing. The conference ran from May 19-22, 1986. And, as good fortune would have it, one ski area was still open in the Little Cottonwood Canyon: Snowbird.

Snowbird had a huge snow base that year and planned to operate well into the month of June. Its next door neighbor, Alta, was already closed. The ski areas in Big Cottonwood Canyon (Brighton and Solitude) were also closed. The only other places I knew that would be open later with lift served runs were Mount Bachelor, Oregon and Mount Hood, Oregon. Of course, I had skied Mount Hood for the first time, in September 1985 just before I met Catie on the train.

I made arrangements to fly to Salt Lake City on Friday, May 16th. I left very early in the morning and flew to Atlanta, changed planes and then to Salt Lake City. I arrived at the Salt Lake City Airport shortly after 10 AM to a cold, rainy day in the city (6,000 feet above sea level). After renting a car with a ski rack and placing my skis in the rack, I drove to Snowbird in the cold rain.

It wasn't easy seeing the Wasatch Range from Interstate 15 with the low clouds. However, I drove south to Sandy, Utah to reach Little Cottonwood Canyon Road and then turned towards the mountains. As I drove up the foothills to the canyon road, the rain turned to snow. I reached Snowbird sometime around 12 Noon and purchased my afternoon lift ticket for the whole mountain (there was an option for lifts only and NOT the Aerial Tramway).

I started with the "easy stuff." As "easy greens," they were some of the steepest easy slopes I have ever skied down (a view shared by my son a few years later when we skied at Snowbird together). But there was also nine inches of fresh powder on the ground and it was pretty easy to ski from a powder standpoint. I moved further up the mountain and put in a few runs and got more comfortable with the terrain. It wasn't until I got on the tram and rode to the top and things got scary.

Some of the runs at Snowbird are best described as skiing down inclined elevator shafts, where the chutes that make up certain ski runs are narrow and require a high degree of skill to navigate. And there there are the signs for runs that have no rating. We call those the "You fall, you die!" signs for those runs. I looked at some of those and it was an immediate "NOPE!"

But when I came off the tram there were really challenging runs. Leaving the tram to the right was the Little Cloud Bowl with run directly over the edge known as Regulator Johnson (a mogul/bump run for people who like bumps ranging from the size of VW minibuses to Greyhound buses, or so the joke goes). To the left was the area known as the Peruvian Gulch which is what I started to navigate; first, with the intermediate slopes and then to more advanced "black diamond" slopes.

I was scared in a way that I had never experienced. Here I was skiing while it was snowing (something I had experienced in April at Arapahoe Basin) on very challenging terrain. Some of this terrain was the most challenging stuff I had skied and I was in over my head, so to speak. At some level it was survival skiing in that I survived the getting down the ski run. I remember stopping after one or two runs off the tram (at the base of the tram) to make a call back to my girlfriend in North Carolina. It was the only time she ever heard fear in my voice when skiing.

Yet, I thought I had enough of the skiing skills to make it down some of these slopes. Not the unrated slopes, for sure. However, I did think I could I could manage some of the black diamond runs even though it wasn't "fall-free" skiing. Slowly, run by run, the fear diminished (though it didn't go away that day). I recognized that in the clouds and flat lighting, it was making the skiing more sense of touch skiing which made me more cautious and nervous. I finally turned my attention to the Little Cloud Bowl.

There was a wide snow-cat track at the top of the bowl that had a drop of three to five feet over the edge and into the bowl. Since there weren't many skiers on this Friday afternoon, there was plenty of untracked fresh powder to ski in the bowl. I continued to ski the bowl and ride back up the Little Cloud lift. It was a slow lift (travelling at 500 feet per minute) and eventually I skied some of the runs at the exit of the bowl to try other terrain. Once I figured out the combination of ski trails to follow, I found that I could ski all the way down from the top of the mountain by skiing through the Little Cloud Bowl and then a combination of runs that got me back to the Aerial Tram to ride to the top of the mountain (it was about a seven minute ride up the Tram) from the base.

I was feeling much more confident (and less fearful) than when I first started skiing those intermediate ("blue" slopes) and the black diamond runs. And I got more comfortable skiing in the 10-12 inches of new snow that had fallen during the day. After the last run at the end of the day, I stopped in the ski shop in the building complex at the base of the tram to see what ski equipment I absolutely could not live without and had a very nice conversation with the people running the shop about places I had skied (both from the perspective of other ski resorts and runs at Snowbird). I purchased several items and then went next door to get some hot chocolate before taking my skis out to my rental car and driving down the Little Cottonwood Canyon. The snow was still coming down very steadily as I left Snowbird and eventually turned to rain as I exited Little Cottonwood Canyon.

The hotel I was staying in was north of Little Cottonwood Canyon and oriented such that I was "looking up into" Big Cottonwood Canyon (though there wasn't much to see with the rain and clouds). I got checked-in and looked for a place to eat dinner. I discovered a nearby Marie Callendar's restaurant (it seems like I had visited one prior to this, though I can't remember where, for certain). After dinner, I returned to make some phone calls. The storm was intensifying with wind-driven rain and snow. And even though I had skied only half a day, the combination of the difficultly and the total number of vertical feet I had skied in the afternoon had me fall asleep quite easily. All of this was the prelude to my weekend of skiing at Snowbird.

I also knew this was the weekend when Abby's prom was taking place and I have more to say about that a little later.

I awoke early the next morning to colder temperatures and clear and sunny skies. The storm had moved away during the early morning hours. I tuned to one of the local television stations to see what conditions were being reported. There was an additional 31 inches of snow overnight being reported at Snowbird. The road to Little Cottonwood Canyon had already been avalanche controlled and cleared (the tree damage along the avalanche chutes near the road was impressive to see). After a quick breakfast, I dressed in my ski clothing, loaded my skis, and drove up the Little Cottonwood Canyon. The view of the fresh snow on the mountains was impressive. I left early enough to get to Snowbird before the lifts opened and the first tram for skiers left the lower station and headed to the top (8:00 AM). I purchased my lift ticket and waited in line with everyone else waiting in anticipation of a "powder day."

Finally, to doors on the tram opened and we were allowed to board the tram. I was somewhat surprised of the small number of people who were there for the first tram to the top. Maybe 30 -35 people boarded carrying their skis. The tram has a capacity of 125 people and we weren't even close. Halfway up, the tram on the "other side" of the cable passed us going down the mountain. That tram would deliver the next batch of people to ski the powder in the bowl as the tram we were on travelled back down to the bottom. We caught glimpses of the Little Cloud Bowl as we climbed. But, it wasn't until we climbed up and over the last tower before the tram station that we could all see the bowl; completely untracked. The tram stopped, the doors opened, and everyone hustled out to claim their own path of untracked powder. As people dropped their skis on the ground and stepped into their bindings, there was only a short time between the click of the bindings and them pushing off to head over the edge to Regulator Johnson.

Two of us pointed our skis down the snowcat track. Other than the tread markings (and compression of the snow) by the snowcat, the only other ski tracks were those of the ski patrol. This made the cat-track fast because we weren't skiing in deep snow and it was easy to point the skis straight down the run, tuck, and let them glide. It was a race down cat-track, past the Little Cloud Bowl Lift and the turn into the Bowl. Since I had skied here in this bowl the day before, I knew exactly where I was headed. The other guy skiing down the cat-track couldn't keep up with me because my skis were both longer and I had waxed them overnight.

When I reached that point to drop into the bowl, I turned to the right slightly and shot over the edge of the cat-track into the air before dropping 4 - 5 feet and landing in the snow. I was carrying a lot of speed and I prepared to drop through the surface and the three feet of snow that had built up over the night.

PWOOOOF! That was the sound as I landed and the powder snow exploded around and over me. I was sure glad I was wearing goggles rather than glacier glasses. I felt balanced as I was dropping down across the face of the bowl. I reached forward and to the right with my right ski pole and lifting my left hand holding the left ski pole. I was well balanced on both skis and the right turn seemed effortless as the ski tips emerged from the surface until they sank into the snow until the next turn. As the tips emerged, snow would billow from around the tips into the air where, because of my speed, I would take a "face shot" after "face shot" of powder snow as I completed each turn in a long series of S-turns down the bowl. Afterward, I remember thinking that if I never got to have that experience again, I had it at least once. It is and was the Holy Grail of skiing.

As I approached the bottom of the bowl, the skiers that had started down Regulatory Johnson were also approaching the lift loading station for the Little Cloud Chairlift. Having run this route the previous day, I continued down the mountain to race the tram car that I had ridden on down the mountain. As I reached the lower slopes served by the Gad lifts, some of the runs had been groomed (compressed) to make it easier for less skilled skiers to deal with the new snow. But there were few skiers (yet) and I carried a lot of speed towards the base station of the tram. I could see the tram car I had ridden to the top for first tracks was approaching the base station. I skied to a stop, released my bindings with the tips of my ski poles, quickly gathered my skis and got up onto the platform in line for the next car up the mountain. There were more people this time than on the first car up (maybe 75 - 80), but the tram still wasn't full.

A number of people noticed that I had skied into the tram boarding area and asked me if I had already been up top. I told them I had and when asked about the conditions I, once again, used a variation of the line from the movie "The Endless Summer:"

"You guys really missed it. You should have been here for first tracks!"

I told them that the Little Cloud Bowl was completely untracked until I dropped into it. I indicated that only two of us from the first tram had dropped into the bowl and everyone else had dropped over the edge to Regulator Johnson. As we came over the rise on the last tower, we could see many more people had skied down the bowl and there was still lots of untracked powder to ski in/through. Once again, everyone piled out and put on their skis. There were many more people who skied down the snowcat tracks to enter the Little Cloud Bowl. I think the first four runs I skied (in a little over one hour), I skied all the way down to the base to ride the tram back up (and it was near full on the next two runs). By that time, I had already skied almost 12,000 vertical feet. I skipped the next tram so that I could discard my coat (a sweater was now sufficient) and then returned to ride the tram up for the last time this day. After that, I was skiing down to the base of the Little Cloud Chairlift and then taking the slow double chairlift ride back up to the top. Including the wait time in line, I was getting in about 5 runs per hour and at just over 1,300 vertical feet per run, I was putting in about 6,500 vertical feet per hour.

By 10:30, the combination of skiers and higher springtime sun angle had really caused much of the powder in the bowl to be "tracked out." There were still areas without tracks and they were rapidly diminishing. However, over much of the bowl it was a combination of tracked and choppy (soft) snow. Since I was riding on the lift up the Little Cloud Bowl, I was teamed up with another "single." I met a guy who was in his late 20's on the lift and after chatting on the lift ride up, we ended up skiing down the slopes more or less together. I note that nearly everyone skiing up at this level on the mountain was a pretty good skier as these black diamond runs were not really for beginner or low-intermediate level skiers (though I still considered myself an advanced intermediate skier).

After a few runs together, I decided that it was time to take a break and get something to eat. As I recall, the normal restaurant at MID-GAD wasn't operating, but there was a concession stand operating an outdoor grill for things like hamburgers, cheeseburgers, and hot dogs and there were outdoor tables. Although shaded, the temperature had warmed up enough that sitting at a table wasn't cold. I was sitting at one of the tables when this woman came up to me and asked if they (she and another young woman) could join me at the table. I told them "Of course," and they sat down at the table with me.

They introduced themselves. They were mother and daughter. The daughter was wearing black ski bibs and a white knit top that was straining to contain her breasts overhanging the top of her ski bibs. Her name was Megan, she was in her mid-twenties and she was finishing up as a grad student at Utah State University (in Logan, Utah; north of Salt Lake City) and spending the weekend with her mom.

Her mom introduced herself as "Sheryl with an S" (I was thinking another Cheryl?) and she lived in Salt Lake City. I was guessing she was in her late 40's or more probably her early 50's. She was wearing a black Bogner one-piece ski suit (not exactly a cheap ski suit. In those days $750 -$900 were typical prices for these high end suits). She had the front zipper opened part way and she was wearing a white V-neck top under her ski suit. I could tell where her daughter got her breasts as her mom also had a very nice cleavage showing.

I introduced myself, told them that I was an engineer living in Raleigh, North Carolina.

"You didn't come all the way out here just to ski," Sheryl asked. I told them I was here to attend a conference the following week and came out early to take advantage of the late skiing since it looked like the ski season wouldn't end until the middle of June that year. I commented that I was surprised that there weren't more people skiing.

"Oh, this is the type of day where my dad would have wanted to go play golf with his friends rather than ski and mom and I would come up here to ski," Megan said.

I started to ask about the "would have." Sheryl said to me, "he died in a traffic accident a few years ago shortly after she (referring to Megan) graduated from college."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I know how much that hurts." I told them there was a woman I had met in September, 1985 while riding the train across the country and that we were dating and planning the next steps in our life together when she and her mother were killed in a traffic accident. We didn't dwell on any of the specifics of their experience or mine. But we had established a different common experience (other than our love of skiing).

As we exchanged basic information, they found out that I was in the final steps of getting a divorce. I told Megan not to take it personally, but I had discovered two years earlier that my ex-wife was having an affair with a grad student and she moved out so that they could live together.

Our conversation had moved back to skiing and other interests (I mentioned my mountain climbing interests), when the guy I had skied with skied up to the barbeque area, took off his skis and walked over to the table where we were sitting. We said hello to him and with introductions he sat down at the table next to Megan. It was obvious to me that he was absolutely focused on her breasts because it seemed he just couldn't take his eyes off of them. If it seemed obvious to me, I'm pretty sure it was obvious to her and her mom.

After lunch, I was going to return to skiing the Little Cloud Bowl and so were Megan and Sheryl. The four of us left together and because of where we were on the mountain, we could either ski all the way down the mountain and come back up the tram or ski to another lift that would allow us to cross over to the loading station of the Little Cloud lift. We chose the latter. They were double chairs and so when we got to the lifts, there was a question of how to handle the four of us riding together. I wasn't even going to presume that either one of these women would chose to ride with me and when we arrived at the first lift, I stopped stepped aside and asked Megan and her mom if they wanted to ride up together. I can't remember the guy's name so I am just going to call him The Jerk.

So, we were riding the first lift up and The Jerk is commenting on Megan's "tits" and that he'd love to get in her pants and be smothered by her tits. I told him that he was being a little too obvious and that he should back off a bit. He told me something like I could have "the older one." Not "her mom," but "the older one." I thought that was extremely presumptuous on his part. When we got off the lift, we started to ski down to the base of the next lift and he made sure he skied up beside Megan to get on the chairlift with her. Sheryl and I skied in behind them. I asked Sheryl if she wanted to ride up with me. She agreed and we had a long 7 minute ride up the mountain.

During that first ride, Sheryl asked me if he really was a friend of mine.

"No, I don't know him except we happened to ski a few runs together this morning when we ended up on this lift together," I said. She didn't say anything more about The Jerk on the ride up. It was pretty much small talk (although she did ask where I was staying or if I was staying at Snowbird). She also asked me if I had any children and I told her about my son and his first skiing experience back in March.

When we finally reached the top Megan and The Jerk got off the lift. Sheryl and I were on the next chair behind them and skied away from the ramp. The four of us were standing there and Megan asked me if I skied moguls. I told her I wasn't very comfortable in the bumps, that I could make my way down but it would probably be really slow or end up as a "yard sale" if I went down.

"I'm more comfortable in the Bowl," I said. Megan said something to her mom about catching up with her later. And then she pushed off and started down Regulator Johnson with The Jerk trying to follow her down. I watched her form from behind as she started down the bumps and realized she was really good. Stable upper body, legs pivoting under her. I'm sure that from the front she would be quite a sight but said nothing. Anyway, Sheryl and I skied together. A few runs later we skied down the snowcat track and The Jerk was standing there at the edge of the Little Cloud Bowl. He asked if we had seen Megan.

"No," her mom said. "She's somewhere on the mountain. She might have run into some of her friends." He skied off and we watched him drop down through the Bowl. It looked like he bypassed the lift we had been riding as he looked like was going to ski towards the area we entered after lunch. Sheryl and I skied down the bowl together. The snow was getting pretty soft. She and I the rode the lift back up to the top and headed back to the Bowl. There was Megan, standing there waiting for her mom. When we stopped beside her, she asked me.

"Who is that obnoxious friend of yours?"

"Not a friend," I said. "Just someone I met riding the lift together this morning."

"Well, he's full of himself." I apologized for introductions at lunch. I told her that I had no idea he was so obnoxious. Soon, it would be time for last runs before heading to the base of the mountain. The three of us started down through the Bowl again. I stopped about halfway down and they skied up behind me and stopped. I told them that I realized that maybe they wanted to ski together rather than skiing with me because it was their day together.

"No, no, it's okay," they assured me. About that time, The Jerk went skiing by us (and didn't stop).

"Make sure you tell them about your herpes diagnosis," he yelled as he went skiing by. We watched him ski away.

"I don't have a herpes diagnosis," I said figuring the comment might have been directed at me. "Neither do I," Megan said, figuring it might be directed at her.

Sheryl had a pretty blunt comment about him. It was a combination of his rudeness and the protectiveness from being her mom.

"I think he's just jealous," I said. We went and made one last ride up the lift and skied together down the mountain. Megan was really good but she would slow down and wait for her mom (and I).

I was concerned he might be down in the parking lots waiting but the chances of being in the correct parking lot was pretty small. I didn't voice that concern. I just had it. When we got down to the base near the tram, we left our skis outside and went inside to get something non-alcoholic to drink (Note: Utah had some really weird liquor laws, much like NC once did through their "brown-bagging" laws, though drinking beer and wine was a little easier).

The three of us sat there chatting about different things for a little while. Things like what it was like living where we were living, other places we'd been, or things we had done. I told them about bringing my mom out to the Pacific Northwest for 10 days while I was working there the previous summer and how much she loved seeing that part of the country (she had never been there before). Our conversation wound down and we decided it was time to leave.

"Are you planning on skiing tomorrow," they asked. I replied "Every minute I can." They said that they'd be back also.

We grabbed our skis and poles and started out to the parking lot. Since I arrived so early, my car was the closest. We stopped when we reached my rental car. I told them I'd escort them to their car (they rode together) and after I placed my skis in the ski rack and changed to my after ski boots, I walked with them to their car. I offered to carry something and Sheryl let me carry her skis as we walked across the nearly empty lot. The sun was still out and would be for a number of hours, but the parking lot was in the shade of the mountain.

After placing their skis in their roof rack. I told them I was looking forward to the hot tub at the hotel and then a nice warm shower. We said our goodbye at their car and I watched them drive away. The protective side of my nature watched as they left to see if there was any other vehicle that followed them out. There wasn't.

I returned to my car, got in, started it, and drove out of the lot. No one seemed to be following me either. As I started down the highway, the song that had become one of the prerelease hits from the soundtrack of the movie Top Gun was playing on the radio. "Danger Zone" was exactly the song for skiing at Snowbird, I thought. (The movie was released the day I flew to Salt Lake City and I would see it over Memorial Day Weekend.)

As I travelled down Little Cottonwood Canyon Road, I thought I saw the car that Sheryl and Megan were in go past me back towards Snowbird. I noticed just as it went by me and I thought it was odd, but continued on my way to the hotel.

It was much warmer in Salt Lake City than it had been in the morning. The ski was clear with the Wasatch Range covered in the snows from the previous night. Another day of huge verticals, I thought as I took my gear from the car into the hotel to my room. While I was making a couple of phone calls back to North Carolina to share how my day went, I quickly changed to my swimsuit (my somewhat more modest black Janzen) and headed to the enclosed pool and hot tub. I was surprised that I had the place to myself. I located the timer switch for the hot tub, turned it on and slipped into the warm bubbly water.

I was sitting there reflecting on the day and how enjoyable it was compared to how fearful I was the previous day. It felt like I had overcome something that took me to my next level of skiing as I realized that I was now skiing on slopes that I wouldn't have given any consideration just three months earlier. I still had a long ways to go and much more to accomplish. But the feeling was a good one.

It also helped that I had skiing companions that made the afternoon that much more enjoyable and I had not behaved like The Jerk. Yes, they were both very attractive women. But my operating assumption was that they had come to ski together and any incidental and causal meetings on the slopes or the lifts were just something that topped off the day (like whipped cream) if they were pleasant. Although I was much closer to Megan's age, there was a lot of deference and respect that I gave Sheryl (as her mother).

As I was sitting there contemplating the day in the warm bubbly water, several other people entered the pool area. But you can imagine my surprise when I saw Megan and Sheryl enter the pool area (still in their ski clothing). I had told them where I was staying and this was a complete surprise. Then I wondered if something was wrong.

They saw me in the hot tub and we waved to one another. As they approached, I got out of the hot tub, stepped onto the pool deck and grabbed my towel off the chair. I saw them say something to each other and then laugh as the came around the swimming pool to where I was standing.

"What's up?" I asked.

"We called you room and when you didn't answer, we decided to come back here to see if you were here," Megan said.

"We were wondering, if you don't have any plans, if you'd like to go to supper with us?" Megan asked.

"Sure, I don't have anything planned," I replied. "Where do you have in mind?"

They gave me the name of a restaurant, its address and directions on how to get there. I could tell that they both were "sizing me up" in my black Speedo style swimsuit as we stood there. Unlike my white swimsuit where it was easier to discern a bulge in the front, the black fabric was more discreet. I knew that look, though. We established a meeting time and they turned to leave, talking back and forth to each other as they left. They waved at me as they exited the pool area.

I can't say that my mind went to something overtly sexual after they left. After all, this is the world headquarters of the Church of Jesus Christ and Latter Day Saints (Mormons) and my experience with people I knew who were part of the faith were consistently nice and very friendly people. And there were so many people here that were involved in that faith that I thought more along those lines than giving this a sexual meaning. Still, I did wonder....

After spending some more time in the hot tub, I finally got out and headed back to my room to take a nice, warm and then cool shower. After I dried off, I went and laid on the bed naked. My thoughts were not of these women, but of Abby. She would be in the final stages of preparation for going to her prom. I was honored that she had considered me to take her to her prom. I told her that it was a young person's event and that I was absolutely certain that someone else would ask her to go.

"Go with someone you'd like to go with, someone you'd be comfortable spending the evening with," I told her.

"That's you!" she said.

"I know," I replied. "But I'd look more like one of the teachers or chaperones than your date."

We laughed at that. I smiled at the memory. I got hard thinking about her.

For as much as my sex life had its successes both with a new lover at home and with the unexpected experiences in Colorado, I still felt a special and complicated bond with Abby. We weren't "growing apart" so much as she was growing up. Still, I missed being with her because of the things we did and experienced together.

As the time approached for me to leave for supper, I got dressed and consulted the local map that the rental car company had given me to familiarize myself with the route I would be following. No Google Maps on phones like today.

I arrived at the restaurant a few minutes ahead of time. As it turned out, Sheryl and Megan were already there. The lighting in the restaurant was quite dim, though there were candles at each of the tables. I remember thinking that it was the type of restaurant that my ex-wife's grad student boyfriend had taken her on her birthday, just days before her affair with him was revealed to me and admitted to by her. Someplace dark and private where you might not be easily recognized while conveying a sense of (romantic) intimacy. I just noted that. I didn't dwell upon it.

Supper with Megan and Sheryl was really quite pleasant. They had decided to invite me to supper as they were driving down the canyon road. They hadn't gotten too far down the road when they turned around to see if they could get back to me before I left the parking area of Snowbird. They had missed me, which is how they ended up at my hotel. I was curious about why they had asked me to dinner.

"You were so nice and polite," Sheryl told me. She paused, looking at Megan, "and good looking, too. We just thought you might like some company."

I found out that Megan had been skiing since she was a youngster (hence, one of the reasons she was so good at skiing) not only in Utah but in other Western states. Sheryl was an avid golfer and tennis player in the other seasons. Megan, on the other hand, was more adventurous with white water rafting and kayaking in addition to backpacking (another thing she and I had in common). Of course, I had my mountain climbing and hang gliding as things I had done that they hadn't.

All in all, it was a very pleasant supper. Three people who had met on the slopes who had some common interests having a good time. I was glad they had invited me.

Although we had not gotten to dessert, yet, I brought up paying the bill.

"We haven't talked about this yet," I said. "I don't know how you want to split the bill. Just to let you know, I am willing to pay for our meal together."

"Oh, no, dear," Sheryl said. "We invited you. It's our treat!"

"You're sure," I asked. Sheryl insisted. "Since you insist," and I let it go at that.

I wasn't accustomed to such treatment.

We went back to our rather wide ranging conversation. They were rather intrigued by my job that took me all over the United States as I shared what it was like to be an engineer who was in demand as an expert in his field. We shared a dessert between the three of us and our time together seemed to be winding down. We had already established "skiing tomorrow...early" at Snowbird.

The check came and, once again I offered to pay. But Sheryl insisted and took out her American Express card to pay the bill. While we were waiting for our server to come back with the card and the receipt for signature, things were suddenly quiet as Sheryl and Megan were looking at each other and at me.

"May we ask you a question," Sheryl asked.

"Sure," I replied. "What's your question?"

"We were curious if you've ever had sex with a mother and her daughter," she said, so quietly it was barely audible.

I didn't see that coming.