Unsuccessfully Shouldering the Slippery Slope

The weather today is ideal. My breath drifts away in elongated clouds every time I exhale. For years I didn't have the opportunity to come up here to the mountains, but today I have finally returned with a few of my best friends. I've felt a bit rusty so far after having been away from the slopes for so long. My brother had told me that the Hidden Lake lift was replaced by a newer, faster version, and I'm glad not to have been disappointed. A ride that once took 20 minutes took us only five today.

As we approached the top of the mountain, I had asked, "Where do you guys want to go? Over to Sunrise like we used to or just cut around below the lift?" while simultaneously pointing to our various options. 

Church leans over the bar, swivels his head in several directions, and says, "What about over there on the right? We've never been there before."

"Sure we have. I've been along there a few times," I reply.

"Maybe you have, but not with us."

I nod my head while thinking about my many former snowboarding buddies and look over at Kelsey. "How about you, Kels? Which way do you want to go?"

She shrugs. Typical Kelsey. I appealingly see no one on the trail off to our right, so I make the decision. 

The three of us slide off the lift and plop down in order to bind our loose feet onto our boards. I ratchet my right binding, careful not to get my leather gloves caught in the clasps. I stand up, slide to the edge of the slope, and wait for Church and Kelsey. Expecting them to momentarily come to gliding stops on either side of me, they both blow past me and down the hill. It's steep. I watch proudly as Church and Kelsey both carve their way perfectly down the sharp decline. I can hardly believe how awful they were when I first began to teach them several years earlier. The powder is thick and everything blurs into white nothingness. The snow flakes are small, light, and coming down in thicker torrents now. Having learned how badly snowflakes can hurt the eyes while flying down a hill like this, I strap on my goggles determined to fly past Kels and Church. Everything has taken on a rosy hue behind the lens as I begin my descent. I carve around a few trees, realize that I'm fully comfortable again at last, and point my board straight down the mountain.

Kels is making her way down in perfect form as I pass her. Church sees me coming and tries to speed up, but I've already gained far too much speed and overtake him. I look back, grinning like a fool, and turn my head back toward my chosen path. I'm flying. No, really flying this time. This was unexpected; I am at least ten feet in the air. Time slows down. I must have flown right over a huge lip without having seen it. "Keep your board under your feet, stupid. You've gone over plenty of jumps in the past," I tell myself, but it's too late. I went over it far too quickly and without the proper trajectory; I'm flying through the air head-first. 

I land on the side of my head. I watch my rosy colored world crush into my face and then get left behind. I hear the white nothingness crunch like shattering thunder in my ear. Deep into my ear. I slide spread-eagle on my back for what seems like an eternity. I come to a stop and begin to sit up. I can hear Church coming towards me yelling, "Dude!" Nothing else.

Church, Kels, and I are sitting in my kitchen. Church offers me some popcorn. Reaching into the bowl as I take it, I realize to my wonder that the popcorn has become caramel corn. "Dude, where did you get this?" I inquire. He doesn't know. I look at Kelsey, who is lounging on a couch. A couch in my kitchen? "Hey, we can't have popcorn!" I exclaim. Church looks at me quizzically and asks why not. "Because we're snowboarding right now!"

I snap back to the now. My head is throbbing and my shoulder feels... like nothing. I try to sit up, but my shoulder suddenly feels very much like something; something very unpleasant. I remain prostrate instead. "Why is there snow up my nose...?"

Church laughs maniacally. "What? You don't remember?"

Kelsey tells me that I just had a wreck of fairly epic proportions. "No, I remember the wreck. My nose didn't touch the ground."

Church takes a break from laughing and says, "Yeah, when I made it to you you sat up and I nailed you right in the face with a snowball! Dude, I think you passed out!"

I moan slightly, tell Church that he's a moron, and try to sit up again. Pain shoots through my arm like a well aimed spike.
"Something is wrong with my shoulder. I need one of you to help me up."
Kelsey kneels in front of me as I grab her right hand. She tries to pull me up, but my shoulder refuses to go anywhere.
"I think I'll just lie here for a while."
"No, we need to move. Your shoulder is probably dislocated."
"I think you're right. So what do I do?"
A suddenly serious Church tells me that I just have to move it around in circular motions. That, he says, will probably pop it back into place. I procrastinate the inevitable action that I'll soon have to take and look back up the mountain. From here I can see the trail cutting straight across our run. There's a seven foot shelf sliced into the side of the mountain. Its edges glint menacingly in the daylight without the inhibition of my glare-blocking goggles.
I gather my courage and do what Church said, and hear a pop. My shoulder is welcomed with no expected relief. I lie back down... Church keeps saying something about how we should go... I feel like this is one of those rare times when I actually want to cry, but the tears which have been held back for years won't come.