The Story of the SledTwas the day of New Years Eve, at my friend Danielle's(a.k.a. Dirwin) cabin in Tahoe. It had been a successful trip thus far, lots of games and intense snow ball fights! Since we were on of the first ones there, we made sure to hide and ambush whoever was next to join us with snowballs. We prepared mountains of snowballs and waited for the cars to pull up.
Then one of my friends, I don't remember who (lucky for them) decided it would be a great idea to go sledding! Woo! "What a great idea!", i thought to myself. "The others are going to kill themselves snowboarding on the mountain, but I am gonna have good safe old-fashioned fun sledding!" Right? Wrong!
Some of The Sledding Crew.
It was going relatively well so far. She happened to live on a ginormous hill, built for optimum sledding capacity. Unfortunately, I realized too late that I am not a huge fan of the point where you realized you are going WAY too fast down a huge hill and there is nothing you can do to stop!
Way. Too. Fast.
Then, one of the last rounds of the day, my two friends and I decided to go on our own, without a boy to lead. Big mistake. Huge.
We all look so happy and excited to go down The Hill of Doom. Having survived my first few trips down, I began to grow confidence. I totally owned that hill, or at least I thought I did...
We hop on the sled and push ourselves to get started. That is when about halfway down, I realized we had to be going at least 700 miles per hour, AT LEAST! Oh no! Too fast! Unfortunately, there was no turning back now, we were committed to the ride. It isn't like you can hope off a sled going 700 mph anyways.
Then, destruction! We slammed into the snowbank at the bottom of the hill! It's funny how snow seems so soft and fluffy, until you face plant into it. In the FACE! (The Hangover, anyone?) So, while this was going on, my body was getting pulled forward and my leg got pulled backwards and then...Pop! I am not doctor, but a pop noise followed by throbbing pain can't be good. So naturally I start bawling my eyes out and couldn't walk. Luckily, we had boys to help me out.
Carrying me up The Hill of Doom.
I spent the entire day moping and crying in bed, convinced I would never be able to walk again. Of course all the boys had to say was "You're fine" or "Walk it off", or whatever else boys say to act tough. But I knew something was seriously wrong. My friends finally convinced me to get dressed and celebrate New Years Eve. Since it hurt to walk, I spent most of the night like this...
Celebrating alone. On a chair. Sweet.
When I got home, my parents took me to a doctor, still in disbelief that I actually hurt myself sledding. Little did I know that I had torn my ACL!!! Not only that, but I had to get surgery on it too!
You know the first thing I did? Called all the boys the made me feel like a wimpy girl for complaining that I actually did hurt myself!
So there you have it, The Story of the Sled. To this day, I will never ever go sledding EVER again. How many people do you know who actually have to get surgery after a really bad SLEDDING accident? Yeah, hence why I was the butt of ridicule to everyone who I explained my story to....
So you guys can make fun of me if you want. I would point and laugh at you if it were the other way around don't worry!
Major Sledding Complications.
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