True story;
Around 1970 I had a bunch of kids working for me that loved to ski, so I took them and their girlfriends to Buck Hill for an evening of swooshing. I paid for all the lift tickets, I think there were 10 of us. Dottie and I had never skied, so we rented some boots and skis, and headed outside. First off, my feet are not parallel, they point out, so I knew this would be a problem. I asked one of the staff where the “Bunny Hill†was and he pointed to the far right side. There was a tow rope, and while we were standing there looking at this MOUNTAN they call a bunny hill and wondering if we could make it up, let alone down, we watched a young kid come straight down the hill, gaining speed all the way. It was obvious he had no idea how to stop. He flew past us, through the snow fence right into the parking lot with the ski patrol on his heels. We looked at each other, turned around and took the rental stuff back, and spent the evening in the chalet, by the fire. Never tried it again.