L.G. Keltner is celebrating her blog's third year with a mega-dose of sarcasm, and that means today I am embracing my inner snark.
A few days ago I was finishing off a family ski trip. Our final day on the slopes came with pelting rain. Conditions were hazardous. But we wanted to do something outside that wouldn't result in more torn ACLs before we returned home, so we checked out the tubing hill. Going down was wet, but fun and much safer than skiing and snowboarding on a block of ice.
The problem was getting up the hill.
This particular tubing hill used a moving sidewalk to get its tubers up. One narrow sidewalk. So narrow and icy that you couldn't maneuver around the person in front of you. Walking up the hill yourself was not permitted. Sitting in your tube was not allowed. You had to use that sidewalk to get up the hill.
And people were just standing.
And it was raining, harder by the minute. And we were all getting pelted with icy rain.
If everyone would have walked on the moving sidewalk, the trip up would have taken half the time.
But no one did. The best we could manage was a few steps before we butted up against a line of tubers standing still, seemingly oblivious to how much time they were wasting and not at all concerned about the abysmal weather conditions.
Why do people stand on moving sidewalks? They are an ineffective mode of movement in and of themselves. A healthy infant can crawl faster. But when combined with walking, a person can move twice as fast.
|Move! Move! Don't just stand there! Don't you have anyplace you need to be?|
Ultimately the slow crawl of the sidewalk on that windy, frigid, wet tubing hill did us in. We couldn't abide standing still while we inched up the hill any longer.
The next time I think about going tubing, I'm going to make sure I find out the mode of transport to the top of the hill. And I'll nix one with a moving sidewalk.