Bust

They want us to dance. A request comes through loud speakers. "Come on everyone. It will keep you warm." Everyone equals the ski race spectators like me standing outside in six degrees Fahrenheit. Someone pushes play on a new song. Yeah, okay, groove, uh huh, why not? I raise my arms in the shape of Y then M then C and A. "The top three dancers win a pint glass." Oh yeah? With only myself to embarrass, I add original foot and hand combinations. My parka and pac boots adjust to my inspired improvisation. I pump up the choreography more and then hear a voice yelling. "Hey, hey." Is someone calling me? Yes! Across the course stands a woman trying to get my attention. "Catch this!" She throws a small white box across the race course's final stretch (no skiers flying by at the present moment). The box lands at my feet."Check inside. Did it break?" I open it and see a glass solid and ready for beverage, ready for someone like me. Not a racer, but for sure a winner.