Margaret had absolutely no idea why she thought it'd be fun to learn to ski. It was more like she had learned to fall, actually. She spent all morning with a ski instructor, but it hadn't done much good. Now she was waiting in line for her first ride down alone. If she hadn't been so frustrated, she probably would have found her appearence somewhat amusing. She had on black ski pants and a puffy blue jacket with so many layers on underneath that she could barely move. Every part of her body was clothed in some form, except for the two pigtails sticking out of her striped hat. And on top of that, her entire right side was covered in snow. She was frigid cold and beyond bitter. All she wanted to do was go back to the hotel and curl up in bed with some hot apple cider. But, no. She had paid too much money for her ticket to quit now.
So here Margaret was, waiting in line to get on the lift. Now that she wasn't with an instructor, she couldn't cut ahead and she'd have to get on with some random person. Gosh, how she hated the polite little chit-chat with strangers. Once in a while, she'd get lucky and sit next to someone who would ask a few polite questions, but not push the conversation if it wasn't going anywhere. Usually, though, she got the "nice mom" who'd ask her every single detail about her life and then offer unwanted advice. Or even worse, the guy on the cell phone who would talk obnoxiously loud the entire ride and completely ignore her. Either way you looked at it, the odds weren't very good. Finally having reached the front of the line, she sighed and pushed herself forward with her poles, waiting for the chair to come so she could sit down and meet her companion for the next five minutes.
{Alicia Witt}{Polka Dots}{Coding Template}
So here Margaret was, waiting in line to get on the lift. Now that she wasn't with an instructor, she couldn't cut ahead and she'd have to get on with some random person. Gosh, how she hated the polite little chit-chat with strangers. Once in a while, she'd get lucky and sit next to someone who would ask a few polite questions, but not push the conversation if it wasn't going anywhere. Usually, though, she got the "nice mom" who'd ask her every single detail about her life and then offer unwanted advice. Or even worse, the guy on the cell phone who would talk obnoxiously loud the entire ride and completely ignore her. Either way you looked at it, the odds weren't very good. Finally having reached the front of the line, she sighed and pushed herself forward with her poles, waiting for the chair to come so she could sit down and meet her companion for the next five minutes.