Vag at Lake Placid

Gosh, it was good to be in a place where winter was really winter, Vag thought to himself. Back in Cambridge there hadn't been a flake of snow all fall, and Christmas at home had been more like spring. But New Year's at Lake Placid was different, like in the old days further south when the polar ice cap had not started to shrink.

It was good, too, to see so many famous people who really enjoyed winter. Why, there was Lowell Thomas whom Vag listened to once in a while, and Vaughn Monroe too. Early on the day before New Year's he had seen Gene Tunney trotting around Mirror Lake three times, as though he was still training for a fight.

The fact that he couldn't ski did not bother Vag too much, because although it snowed everyday, most of the people said the conditions were not right. Instead they sat around in the hotel and played rhumba, samba, canasta, and bridge and drank considerable. Before long any beginner could talk skiing with the best by slipping in an occasional "christy" or "slalom."

Out at the Olympic ski jump, Vag watched the American team practice. There was something devil-may-care about these skiers. Whenever one landed in a heap of snow at the bottom of the jump, he would shake it off and bravely limp to a group of enthralled girls. Later in the evening everyone within hearing distance of the Olympians knew about the terrific headwinds that had cut fifty or so feet off each one's final jump. Vag felt foolish after he said he had not felt a breath of air all day.

Those prep school boys were slightly obnoxious though. They were up here for some hockey tournament, and one night they would be strutting around the lobby with fierce looks, mumbling, "Beat somebody or other." And the next night they did everything but bash their heads against the wall and kick over chairs because they had lost a game to "a bunch of ringers." Two or three leered up to Vag and asked where they could get a drink in this joint, and he told them, because it meant they would go to bed sooner.

Yes, Vag was happy to be in the Northland where a man could see his breath when he was outdoors, and you could see winter sports every day. It would be sad to have to go back to the pseudo-winners in Cambridge, and study of exams, and not be able to talk about skiing with people who didn't know anything about it.