It felt like an immediate transition from the race track in “Hairy Formation Lap” to being in line at the top of a ski-slope, getting ready for what I assume would be a slalom or GS event.  There were about a dozen or so people in line ahead of me. I recall the kid who was initially immediately in front of me decided to skip/cut in line; I watched him go around the line to the left, with the rest of the people waiting on the right, trying to take a more direct route, I supposed.  I didn’t feel compelled to follow suit; I just kept to the line, desiring to respect the people who were already there, and figured it wouldn’t be long until it was my turn anyway.  So as I got closer to the starting gate I did like a checklist inspection to make sure I was ready, buckling my boots down, checking equipment, etc.  My boots seemed a bit loose at first, but I got them fastened on the tightest setting and they were comfortable. Then I noticed some kind of orange vest was sort of loose and hanging off me like it was just dangling, and I didn’t really know what it was; it was more like a traffic vest than a numbered race-bib. I didn’t want it to be flapping around, obviously, as it would cause drag aerodynamically, and could potentially get snagged on a gate, etc, so I tried to put it on better by putting my arms through the shoulder gaps, and that worked.

Then I got my gloves … “wait, these gloves aren’t mine; they’re more like my dad’s. Oh, hey Dad, you’re standing next to me. Why? And why so close, btw?” So I asked him directly “Why do you have to be standing right on top of me?” He just responded with something which indicated he didn’t realize it was abnormal, “Oh, so I am, woops.”  Then I got some more sense of having loose clothing, and then realized I didn’t have my poles.  Shit! I turned and looked behind me; there were some about ten yards away that looked familiar.  I worried about getting out of order for the race, my bib number being non-sequential, but I had to have poles. I figured the race-organizers would be able to sort it out. So I went over to those poles, but then realized they weren’t mine; these were primarily black, whereas mine were blue. The similarities were the neon yellow handles and baskets, and the same brand logo.  While I was evaluating them some girls were a few steps away and one of them started asking me questions. At first I didn’t hear her clearly; it was like a non-compute moment — did she make a joke that went over my head? They started giggling and laughing a bit so I asked for a repeat/clarification, and the other girl asked clearly: “How many ounces are in a dollar?” So I knew they were just having some fun making some nonsense.  So I played along, responding with “That’s a real thumb-scratcher!”

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