From: lydick@SOL1.GPS.CALTECH.EDU (Speaker-to-Minerals)
Subject: Re: Snow FantasyAnd now, back to the show:
Reply-To: lydick@SOL1.GPS.CALTECH.EDU
Organization: HST Wide Field/Planetary Camera
Date: Sun, 26 Jul 1992 09:25:04 GMT

In article <92206.104224JW83HISW@MIAMIU.BITNET>, JW83HISW@MIAMIU.BITNET writes:
>Sundog now stands by the door, his coat on and his Terminator-style
>sunglasses hanging around his neck.  He is suddenly shy abouttrying
>to share this experience through writing: he doesn't often show his
>writing to others.
>Then he grins again, producing a quarter.  In one corner of the bar
>appears a hyper-intelligent, pan-galactic jukebox.  The quarter sails
>through the air and into the box, which gulps it down with a deep
>sigh of pleasure.  "Mood music!" Sundog grins, then throws open the
>door:
>     Snow blasts in, driven by fierce winds.  The patrons of Callahans
>suddenly find themselves on the side of a mountain.  Sunlight shatters
>off of crisp white snow and gleams eerily through blue-green ice.  The
>wind blows snowflakes all about them, as the song "Ride the Wind" by
>Poisen is also blown around them.
> 
>    "Ride the wind, never comin back until I touch the midnight sun"
> 
>     With a shout of laughter and joy, Sundog leads the way down the
>mountain.  The snow is solid and easy to glide on, the skis cut across
>it with ease as he leans into the wind, gulping in the cold air.  The
>wind dances along with him as he makes easy traverses along the broad
>slope.  Pine trees seem black against the whiteness and are bowed under
>cloaks of snow.
>     Suddenly the slope changes, becoming filled with moguls.  The dozens
>of little hills cause sudden turns and spins, leg muscles pumping all
>the way through.  Other skiers leap off the top of the moguls, spinning
>and twisting through their jumps.  Beyond the moguls gleams a sheet
>of ice that is almost vertical.
>     Teeth bared and heart beating wildly, Sundog attacks the challenge,
>edges biting deep into the ice.  Tiny chips of ice fly into the air,
>sparking tiny bits of white fire amidst the snow, as the skis chatter
>loudly.
>     Now into the trees: the snow is deep and soft, as Sundog ducks and
>dodges between stark black trunks, slapping branches out of the way.
>The trees end, and suddenly he is flying off of a small cliff, soaring
>free with the wind and the snow, shouting with pure joy at the
>sensation.
>     He lands in an burst of soft powder snow, buried momentarily to
>his waist.  Then he is moving again through this gentle field that
>hasen't been skied by anyone else.  The feather light snow boils about
>his knees as he glides through the snow that is so light, it feels like
>he is skiing on pure air.
>     Then the powder ends, and the entire group goes tearing down a
>groomed run, cutting and running alongside each other, laughing and
>cheering each other on.  Sundog spins around on his skis so he is
>skiing backwards, looking up at the rest of the group.  "Now we try
>somthing a little different!" he cries out, making a grand sweeping
>gesture.

StMN, watching from the top of the slope, disappears momentarily.  He
reappears carrying a sled (No, it's not "Rosebud").  Shouting "ALRIGHT! THE
TRAIL'S BEEN BROKEN," he takes off at a run and, throwing himself and the sled
downhill, begins following the skiers after a creditable belly-flop.

>     Suddenly their gear changes from alpine to nordic, and Sundog
>leads them in a cross-country trek through the woods.  It is so
>incredibly quiet, away from the entire rest of the world, that you
>actually hear the snowfall hitting the ground.  Breathing evenly,
>legs and arms working with smooth precision, Sundog leads everyone
>towards a clearing in the woods, where burns a bonfire, and other
>skiers are dancing and pouring cider from big jugs.

StM follows, dragging his sled behind him and muttering, "It started out
downhill, why couldn't it STAY downhill?"

>The Snow Fantasy ends here:
>     Sundog stands in the middle of the place, a joyous smile on his
>face, his body quivering with energy and the desire to ski and be
>out in the cold weather.  Then he exhales deeply and smiles out at
>everybody.  "I hope ya'll liked that.  The experience of skiing is
>so amazing, that if I could live in a place where I could ski year
>'round and enjoy the cold weather, I'd leap at the chance!"

StM adds, "If the slope's worth skiing, it's worth sledding (unless the owners
or the slope prohibit sledding :-(.  The only time in my life I ever seriously
injured myself was when I was sledding.  That big chunk of concrete looked like
it was just more snow :-(.  Then, after I'd broken my collar bone on it, my 
!#@$$^%#$% sister had to tell my parents I was hurt :-(!  That was the only
time in my life I got mad at her for being a tattle-tale!  I think my anger at
my sister may have had some influence on my doctor's decision to use a plaster
cast instead of the normal elastic bandage for a broken collar bone :-)

>     As he moves to the bar, he continues: "Like I said, enjoy what
>you wish.  I just wanted to try and show everybody why cold weather
>is so enjoyable."  He settles in at the bar.  "Now I have to go
>back to muggy ol' Ohio.  Ah well.  At least my apartment has a
>very efficient air conditioner!"

StM looks confused.  "But.... But.... Isn't weather below 50 degrees Fahrenheit
enjoyable for itself, never mind things like skiing and sledding?"
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