1038 words (4 minute read)

A taste...

They say ‘God is Love’ but Dr. Love was not God, well not to most men, but plenty of women loved him, and thought him a God. It could have been the jacket, or because he was an exotic American in a small place called Wanaka in the bottom quarter of New Zealand, or a combination of these things.

Something happens when a person puts on a ski school jacket – they look prettier, handsomer, fitter and even stronger – although Dr. Love probably never needed anything extra. At 6 feet 2inches tall, with dark hair and hazel eyes, plus a six-pack (so rumor had it) Dr Love probably didn’t need the jacket to draw the women. If that wasn’t enough, he was also the best skier on the mountain, but that was no surprise as he used to be on the US ski team.

‘Do you guys want to join me and the lads for a drink later?’ We’d been working with Dr. Love all season and this was the first time he’d invited us out. I almost felt like a real ski instructor instead of a mere student nurse who was beginning to have doubts about his chosen path. Sure, nurses are guaranteed work, but ski instructors are guaranteed women. Hell, what a choice; security or fun?

I looked over at Brian, my one legged, 40yr old farming friend from Gore (a place located just above the asshole of the world, at least according to the Rolling Stones) pleading with my eyes for him to say ‘yes’.

This was my chance to see the master in action, to learn the ways of the ski instructor; to hang with a legend, both on and off the slopes. But it was up to Brian as he was the reason Dr. Love and I were here. Brian was disabled, and I his volunteer ‘helper’ while Dr. Love was in charge of the adaptive skiing program.

Brian responded with a broad grin. ‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world’.

We agreed to meet at the watering hole at 7pm. Little did I know that seeds would be sown that night, that would change the course of my life.

In New Zealand, the female equivalent of rugby is a game called Netball. It’s rough, you must be tough, and you gotta be good with balls, and kiwi women are the best in the world with balls. (Later studies would show that kiwi women average 21 sexual partners in their lives, the highest in the world, making our women excellent with all types of balls)

Whether Dr Love was aware of this, I have no idea, but as fate would have it, there were several visiting netball teams in town that weekend for a tournament, and the local watering hole was overflowing with oestrogen.

Dr. Love was sitting at the bar with several other instructors, and waved Brian and I over.

‘Glad you made it’ he said before ordering a couple of beers, Speights beers of course.

‘Sorry mate, but I can’t drink that stuff, I’ll have a whiskey instead’ Brian cut in as he unstrapped his leg and propped himself on a bar stool. Brian had lost his leg to cancer, and they’d had to cut it off real high, right up into the hip bone, and he took a mixture of meds to battle the phantom pains, plus other meds to counter the frequent acid reflux he suffered due to the other meds. Beer bloated him before any inebriation occurred, while whiskey kicked in real quick, without the bloating.

Without hesitation, Dr. Love ordered a round of single malt whiskey for everyone. ‘Gotta look out for my friends’. He sounded sincere – he even called us friends. I was truly in the presence of greatness. Was it him? or was it the jacket?

Most people never wore their ski school jacket off mountain, let alone in a bar, as that was deemed uncool, and ‘try-hard’ but Dr. Love was able to pull it off without anyone thinking less of him.

Brian gave me a nudge, as his eyes flicked towards the other side of the bar, where two women were already eyeing Dr. Love up. ‘Watch and learn’ he said.

Dr. Love ordered a martini, the same as the girls, and began to play with his straw – not a metaphorical straw, but the straw in his drink. He made eye contact with the girls, although I’m still not sure how you make eye contact with two people at once, and he bean to stir his martini, very slowly. The girls giggled, and stirred their martinis slowly.

He began to stir faster, and they followed suit. He then began to thrust his straw urgently into his martini, and slowly pull it out, and they giggled even more as they mimicked his every move, while I urgently ordered a martini from the bar.

‘Get me one as well’ Brian whispered…

Dr Love nodded his head toward the door, and the two women followed him out into the night.

For the first time in my life I knew what I wanted to be. I wanted to be a ski instructor, and have a jacked of my own.

But first I had to get through nursing school. Dammit, but that’s just doesn’t sound cool….

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