Instructor: 20-something-year-old Eamon, sweet Eamon who usually teaches children... perfect for round 2 of the idiots on skis (I am really only speaking for myself... John and Rachel were doing great at this point.)
I head into lesson 2 with this doozy from lesson 1:
It's a wonder I've returned.
The three of us are teamed up with Eamon as our instructor. He does a quick assessment of our skill level and no doubt wonders how we advanced from lesson 1. I want to tell him that if it were possible to be held back, Bob surely would have given us that punishment. Eamon seems intent on getting us over our fears and after an hour of "practice" in the learning pen we venture out to our first chairlift ride. I have only once in my life ridden a chairlift before this and remember nothing about it. I am intensely afraid of heights and after successfully getting ONTO the chair I comprehend nothing Eamon is saying as I try to steady my heartbeat and focus on not eating it upon my exit. The four of us disembark without a hitch and turn onto what looks like a beginning skier's version of hell. "No..." I mumble to Rachel. "Oh my word... NO!"
Eamon takes a gentle approach and patiently guides us down the "steep" hill (we're talking an easy green run here folks... but it looked like a double black diamond to a beginner!) We follow him reluctantly with every slow turn. I fall several times (think: turn, turn, fall, get up, turn, fall, get up, repeat) but Eamon calmly helps me up and carries on with encouragement. I secretly take pleasure in the fact that John finally falls too and I feel we've made a necessary connection. We are comrades in this stupid adventure now! I am still resenting Rachel and jealous of her ability to stay upright. It takes the remainder of the lesson to make it back down the hill.