Redeemed through the miracle of osseo-integration

At the age of 15 I was allowed to go on a school skiing trip to Austria. It was a memorable week on many levels, especially as I had never skied before. The soaking wet clothes to dry at the end of the day, and the pain from ‘snow ploughing’ for hours, but after a few days, some of us were allowed up to the top of the mountain. As I neared the top, my skis got into a rut and I was about to keel over and be dragged unceremoniously up the last pitch like some novice ski boarders I've seen, so I let go of the T-bar. I can see it now as it reeled itself in, swinging high and down, straight across a kid's face. As I approached, he held out his bloodied hand with what I presume were bits of his front teeth. His dad (I assumed) was quickly beside him and he turned and shouted, pointing, gesticulating at me, roughly translated it came across as ‘Hey look what you've done to my son's mouth’! I turned on to the piste and off I went, my snow plough turning quickly into some kind of downhill posture. Rounding the first bend, onto a steeper bit, fir trees began to flash by, as in my panic, I imagined a posse of incensed Austrians in pursuit. Another bend and some sort of ‘parallel turn’ appeared from nowhere, if I lost control now, I would be in the trees! But I made it to the end, and looking back, I was alone. My pals turned up shortly, expressing some admiration on my technique. When I filled them in on the circumstances, it was agreed I best keep off the mountain for the rest of the trip. Did I tell my teachers? No, I don't think I remember sharing this experience with anyone else, my teachers, or parents for that matter.