Wednesday, March 18, 2009

MacGyver Saved My Life*

I was reading over at redacted about how 80s movies don't stand the test of time becase their plots are ridiculous. And it's true. Even the TV shows. I mean, a talking, humanistic car? A stuffed animal that eats cats? A man living with two woman and they never, like, do it?!

And then, my personal favorite: MacGyver. And, what's this?! Lo and behold! He's coming back people! Because, evidently, Hollywood DOES think this man stands the test of time.


Personally, I don't know how they can do it. I mean, the man has aged fairly well, but he would no longer look good in a mullet, say. And what's he going to make bombs out of now? A GPS, some Zoloft, and a lighter? Not quite as impressive.

Unless they just turn the film into something completely different and call it MacGuyver. Like they did with Joan Rivers. We all know she's really Elvis in hiding.

Either way, the man will always hold a special place in my heart since he happens to have saved my life.

That's right. MacGuyver saved my life*.

The story takes place in middle school, on a Friday when I was lucky enough to get fundage from the parents to accompany the Ski Club to a local mountain for some night skiing. I got to pretend I was a rich kid for the night. I failed horribly, but more on that later.

So, I hung out with my two friends mostly, and they were real pros on the slopes. I, of course, had not seen long flat things attached to my feet since the Mesozoic era.

Naturally, we started on the expert course.

After taking a face full of snow right off the lift, I laughed it off to hide the tears that were frozen to my eyelashes. My friends probably just laughed. Bitches. Brushing myself off with my pole, I inched toward the hill with a sense of terror. In the end, I made it down a few times (ok, maybe two), but the whole ordeal probably took about an hour. My method of "skiing" was to go, with no aim or control, until I thought I was going too fast. Then I would aim down and eat a face of snow.

When we got up the third time, I assured my friends that they didn't have to wait for me this time; I was certain I was ruining their fun. And before I could reassure them with a, "No, no...really, just go!" they were off, a mist of snow landing on my nose as they departed.

Welp. Just me and the mountain. Certainly couldn't be any worse than it already has been, eh?

Of course. Of course it could. Not 5 minutes into my go-and-tumble routine, I fell so hard that my ski popped off. It, too, was tired of waiting for me and continued on down the hill. The hill of freaking ice, mind you.

I, obvlivious to the rules and hazards of skiing, pretty much sat there waiting to be plowed down with a ski to the face. I wondered how to get out of this fix. After realizing my friends were probably now avoiding this entire side of the mountain, I resolved to inch my way across the ice so I could walk down and find my ski.

But then, I heard his voice. (dramatic pause.)

MacGyver: "Hey, are you alright?" I looked up, his face was glowing in front of a floodlight that was illuminating the slopes.

Me: (Humiliated, then, completely dumbfounded.) I may have said out loud, "MacGyver?"

MacGyver: "Did you lose a ski?"

Me: Blank stare. I may have nodded.

MacGyver: "I'll go get it for you."

He must have had go-go-gadget arms or something because he was gone and back in what seemed like seconds, holding my wayward ski.

He helped me stand so I could awkwardly click it back onto my foot. "Thank you so much."

He only smiled, holding his hand out to steady me. I pretty much lost the ability to speak, since MacGyver had touched me and his powers were rendering me silent. He must have read my mind (he is MacGyver) because he said "You're welcome" with his smoky eyes, his mulleted hair fluttering in the brisk wind.

I floated down the mountain and promptly fell on my ass again. Way to ruin my Hollywood moment, Darwin.

He stopped again, but I tried to preserve what was left of the romance (so what if I wasn't legal...it was beyond age!) and my dignity. I waved him away with my hand.

Heartbroken, certainly, he looked back with concern before he slid down out of sight.

About an hour or so later, I was at the bottom, nursing a throbbing knee and trying to catch a glimpse of my savior. Like an apparition, he was gone. Even my friends hadn't seen the man.

But we'll always have that moment. There atop Holiday Mountain, my knee developing arthritis in the moonlight.

__________

*Kinda.

5 comments:

  1. oh man, i remember being confused at first if it was the 'real' macguyver. we never did see anyone fitting that description....

    ah well, at least there's this:

    http://www.nbc.com/Saturday_Night_Live/video/clips/macgruber-financial-ruin/773921/

    (and the fact that your experience fired your determination to be a kick-ass skier :))

    ReplyDelete
  2. Mullets don't flutter. :P

    But yes, I heard about this new movie "idea" (because, really, it's not an idea but a pillaging, the only thing left someone hasn't tried to recreate from the 80s involves Muppets, not mullets) and having watched MacGuyver a little too much in earlier days, I promptly had a stroke at the idea of someone trying to remake it.

    I am at least glad that Richard Dean Anderson - or one of his overly obsesseive fanboys - helped your dignity many moons ago.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Whatever, you know the REAL MacGuyver was chilling on his houseboat, doing acid.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Oh.

    Ouch.

    Oh, what's the feeling in the back of my head?

    Ah, shit. I just unrepressed another memory from my childhood. Not being able to go on the 8th grade field trip. Thanks for that.

    Oh no, here comes the not-being-allowed-to-go-on-the-DC-trip memory from the 6th grade. I gotta go. The tears are welling.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Mullets don't flutter. :P

    But yes, I heard about this new movie "idea" (because, really, it's not an idea but a pillaging, the only thing left someone hasn't tried to recreate from the 80s involves Muppets, not mullets) and having watched MacGuyver a little too much in earlier days, I promptly had a stroke at the idea of someone trying to remake it.

    I am at least glad that Richard Dean Anderson - or one of his overly obsesseive fanboys - helped your dignity many moons ago.

    ReplyDelete