I went skiing once.  I was almost killed by little kids from Texas wearing coordinated designer ski wear, including headwear, goggles, boots, polls, the works.  

The little snots kept flashing by, all of maybe 9 years old, snow flying, laughing at the long-haired 17 year old in jeans.

When the last one was about to buzz me on the way down, I "slipped," and my pole accidently went flying into his path.

All I heard was "AAAaaauuggghhh!," and he went on his back, and started tumbing.  The pole wasn't far from where he stopped.  

I walked by, picked it up, put on a sheepish smile, and said, "Sorry man!  First time!," and slowly made my way down the rest of the bunny hill.

I'll always love skiing that one time.