The slippery slope logical fallacy

I went skiing on Monday. This was a thoroughly foolish thing to do. I'd never been skiing before, and while I did quite well (no broken bones) it caused me to consider what skiing actually is.

1) The Origin of Death by Hill

Skiing was probably invented in one of those Scandinavian countries no one seems to care about very much. Skiing was invented in response to four factors: boredom, hills, barrel staves, and the alcohol that had previously occupied the barrel from whence the staves were obtained. Imagine the historic scene:

Sven: "Weeeeell...I guess that's it for that keg. Life is still boring 'cause we live in Scandinavia."
Erik: "Eyyyugn..."
Eric: "We've got barrel staves, right? So, right, we have hills, right, yeah? We could slide down 'em, right yeah?"
Sven: "Kin'a wobbly lookin."
Erik: "Need longer staves. Bust open the bigger keg."
Eric: "An' we could hold sharp sticks in both hands, right? Like while we, yeah, slide, right?"

Sadly, no written accounts survive from these heroic three. They also actually contributed precious little to ski techniques, except for conclusively proving that finding a way to stop is usually wise before proceeding down the side of a mountain. Sven was also skiing's first fatality, although Eric's and Erik's next of kin harshly disputed this claim. The three families still do not speak to each other even over seven hundred years later. This explains the splitting of Norway, Finland, and Sweden into separate nations. Denmark formed because the Leif family was left out of the whole endeavor.

2) The Modern Experience

Man has made immense leaps in the field of medicine. Not inflicting horrible injuries in the first place is strangely absent from the list of accomplishments. Skiing today consists of attaching two fiberglass boards to your feet that have been engineered to be as slippery as possible ("skis"). Then the Helpful Lodge Personnel hand you two sharp sticks ("poles"). Now stand up. Not too bad, eh? Now remember to close your bindings so the skis stay on your feet and try again. A bit more difficult, no? Well, withdraw the pole from your foot and try again. (delay thirty minutes) Nicely done. Now one of your friends (who has been skiing since birth) tells you that your skis are on the wrong feet. Sit down, remove skis, and learn that they are symmetric. I would recommend you go ahead and fall for this one; even if you know better the consequences of not being made a fool at this point are severe. If you aren't funny at the bottom of the hill, your companions will do something funny to you at the top. Usually it involves a firm push and shouted instruction to try to keep your weight on your heels and point the skis downhill to slow down.

Once you have attached your skis and are in the vertical position, you must now use the ski lift. First, though, you must get to the ski lift. Here is where one discovers how impossible it is to walk forward up a gentle slope when you have five-foot buttered skis on both feet. You thus have two options: fall forward, crawl a few arm lengths, get up and repeat, or remove your skis and walk to the lift. Removing your skis and walking back to the parking lot may actually be your best chance of surviving the next fifteen minutes. Once you reach the lift, you must move into a position such that the chair hits you in the back of the knees and forces you to sit, rather like you kindergarten teacher may have done. Unlike your kindergarten teacher, a lift chair has no soul and will wobble, twist, speed up, slow down, and do anything it takes to keep you from boarding with both skis, your poles, and your dignity. If and when you get on board, it is time to contemplate falling to your death. Once you finish, it is time to contemplate getting off at the top, which is basically the same as falling to your death only slowed down so you can savor it. The lift gently deposits your skis on the snow. Now, stand up and slide away from the chair. Yeah, right. Have fun waving to all the people riding up the mountain as you ride back down. You'll get another chance to escape the chair once you reach the top again.

2-5 cycles later, one finally succeeds in exiting the lift. Next issue: stopping. You are on top of a hill. The hill slopes downward in almost all directions. You are going somewhere. There are ways to stop on skis, of course, but the method I most highly recommend is the one I pioneered: fall over. Your body is less slippery than the bottoms of your skis. Once you are in full control of the situation (i.e. laying flat on your side and praying to God no one runs over you), you must prepare for the final challenge.

How to reach the bottom of the hill alive? This dilemma has been disputed by philosophers for eons, who usually solve it by denying the existence of the hill. You are not so fortunate. The challenge is less getting down the hill (that will happen no matter what) as it is getting down the hill at a controllable speed. Their are two ways to slow down on skis while retaining your dignity. The first is called the "pizza." It consists of forming your skis into a wedge with the point oriented downhill. This digs the edges of your skis in and causes more friction, slowing you gently. It also, over time, loosens the vital tissues that keep your hamstrings from popping free and falling down the insides of your legs. The second option is turning so your skis are both perpendicular to the slope. This approach slows you down. It also points you off the edge of the hill/toward a cliff/into a rock/into the path an angry snowboarder holding a chainsaw in each hand. I use a mixture of these two approaches, thus optimizing my chances both for a debilitating groin injury and death by angry snowboarder.

3) The Future of Skiing

Skiing will die out in about 20 years. Oddly enough, this corresponds to when all skiers will die out at their current rate of attrition.

I certainly hope this post has not put anyone off skiing. I had an insane amount of fun. The doctors also tell me that these prosthetic legs look exactly like the real thing and I'll be up and about on a cane in mere months. Reattaching the fingers of my left hand will be a bit tougher, but I'm right handed anyway.