OLD JOKE: How does a snowboarder introduce himself?

Answer: Oops, sorry, dude.

I can tell you from personal experience—it’s funny ’cause it’s true. As a lifelong skier-turned-newbiesnowboarder, I’m about as sorry as they come.

The trouble began last spring, when I (perhaps foolishly) decided to give the sport a try. As training, I rented some DVDs, strapped on a borrowed board and spent an evening hopping around the living room. The stance was awkward, the skills elusive and the nomenclature baffling (Eggplant? Roast Beef Air?), but if I tried really hard, I could almost ignore my wife’s hysterical laughter.

None of which mattered the next weekend, when I found myself standing atop the bunny hill at a local ski area, stalling like a lemming with second thoughts. When did this slope get so steep, I wondered? And what in God’s name was I doing up here with an oversized tongue depressor strapped to my feet?

Learning new ways to fall, apparently. Taking a deep breath, I pushed off, thought, hey, this isn’t so bad…and proceeded to initiate a high-speed near miss with a group of ski-school toddlers. Fortunately, disaster was averted; I caught an edge and slammed into the ground at their instructor’s feet.

Oops, sorry, dude.

It didn’t stop there, either. I turned right and fell; I turned left and fell. I stood still—and still, I fell. After a lifetime of skiing, I couldn’t believe snowboarding (or snow, for that matter) could be so hard. Eggplant? Not even close. Face plant? Nailed it.

And then something clicked. Once again, I was inching my way across the bunny slope, when I accidentally looked downhill. My shoulders followed my gaze, my legs followed my shoulders and holy backside rotation! The board came around in a smooth, neat arc. Eventually, one good turn led to others, and by day’s end, I could say with complete honesty, total conviction (and, really, no more than a dozen hematomas) that I was hooked.

Now, once again, the days are getting shorter, the temperature is dropping and the weatherman is calling for snow. Truth be told, I’m still pretty weak on the whole staying upright thing, and I wouldn’t know a Chicken Salad Air from a tuna fish sandwich. But I can’t wait to hit the slopes.

Who knows? Maybe this year, they’ll stop hitting me back.