I learned to ski because I needed the money.
A weird tour through the warped brothels of Italian immigration had just stripped me of a life’s savings, direction, and most worldly possessions. So when I answered a call promising winter employment high atop the Chilean Andes, I asked no questions. I simply said, “Si.”
Raise the stakes; raise the allure, and so it goes until somebody’s ‘bust’. In my case, to ‘bust’ meant a fate worse than drowning by dirty toilet bowl. And I was tip-toeing the porcelain edge, I knew it. Lumped atop a kitchen table was a
