Scene: The US Olympic Training Facility in East JaBip, Colorado. A fog has settled over the mountains. The coaches are devastated by the absence of all of the Olympic athletes, because for the first time in human history, an entire country's contingent of participants has uttered a collective "Eh" and decided to go to Turks and Caicos for some R&R instead.
Ralph Lauren issues a call for volunteers (since he's already made the uniforms and all) because most of the uber models walking the Paris runways would rather wear real fur than be caught dead in "athletic wear".
A Spinster from Hoosierville arrives (with her little dog too).
US OLYMPIC TRAINING FACILITY COACH AND TRAINER: Thanks for coming, Spinster. We'll need you to suit up as quickly as possible so that we can get you familiarized with the various sports.
SPINSTER: (Breathing hard because of the altitude and the long eight foot walk from her HoverRound to the training site). It's my honor to be here, Coach, to represent my country in what can only be characterized as the triumph of human spirit and a testament to all that is good and wonderful in this world.
COACH (turning to the little dog): Does she always talk like that?
LITTLE DOG: You have no idea.
COACH: OK, first we're going to try a little freestyle skiing. Rather than work you up to it, I figured we'd just start with learning to ride the moguls straightaway. Now if you'll just put on this outfit and follow me to the top of the mountain we'll get started.
SPINSTER: (clapping her hands with delight). Oh goodie! An outfit! I thought I would have to wait at least a day or two to get some gear! Now if I can just (huff huff) pull (grunt grunt) on (gasp gasp) these pants, I'll be all set.
(The Spinster and coach ride the lift to the top of the mountain while the Spinter tries desperately to hide the rather large tear in the seat of the pants. Apparently the mogul suits are not constructed to fit women the approximate size of a small country).
COACH: Now if you'll just stand here, I'll give you a brief rundown of what we need you to do. First, you'll encounter a few large humps of snow that will probably jolt your teeth into the back of your head. Then, just as you're wondering what the hell you've gotten yourself into, you'll be catapulted off of an ice covered ski jump that will propel you forty seven feet into the air. Try to do something acrobatic at this point, like twist about violently or rotate counterclockwise, all the while making sure not to kill yourself. Then, if you survive the first jump you will enter a series of much larger snow bumps that will cause you to careen forward while your knees and elbows operate seemingly independent of any logical motion. The best advice I can give you here is to just close your eyes and hold your breath. Let the eighty five degree slope of the mountain do the work for you. Then, if you've survived THAT part of the course you'll have to prepare yourself for another jump. This one will be a little more difficult because you'll have to do it while looking backwards for your pancreas, which is probably stuck in the moguls someplace. If you land that jump, smile and throw your arms in the air and hope that you've managed to do all of the above in under 24 seconds. Oh, and you should probably try to figure out how to slide to a stop at some point.
COACH: I can see from the look on your face that this might not be the best event for you. Shall we try something different?
LITTLE DOG: My mother can't come to her senses right now. Perhaps we should look for something that is a little closer to sea level.
COACH: OK, let's go down to the long track to see if maybe speed skating will be her thing.
LITTLE DOG (in a conspiratorial whisper to the coach): You can try, pal, but I can tell you right now that the words "speed" and "spinster" have never remotely been in the same sentence, let alone universe. Good luck with that though. I'm sure it will be fun to watch.
A helicopter arrives to transport the Spinster, Coach, and little dog down the mountain. (Sadly, the discovery of a terrifying fear of heights came at the top of the mountain and not the bottom, so measures were taken to save what little time was left for training and the chopper was called.)
The threesome arrives at the indoor long track training facility.
COACH: OK, Spinster, I'll just ask you to remove the mogul uniform and slip into this neoprene body suit for some speed skating training.
SPINSTER: You want me to wear what?!
COACH: A neoprene body suit. It's aerodynamic, designed by NASA, and worn by speed skaters the world over. Perhaps you've seen the Visa commercials featuring Apollo Ono?
SPINSTER: Yes, but but but....my left ELBOW weighs more than an ENTIRE Apollo Ono! But never fear, coach! I'm a team player and will give it my (huff huff) best (gasp) shot (tug tug tug) (yank yank yank)...
The Spinster collapses on the ground with the neoprene body suit stuck partway up her ankle.
SPINSTER: Can we just try it without the suit? I brought my own athletic wear for this, so maybe we should just ditch the outfit idea for a while? (She holds up her Winnie The Pooh duffle bag containing her eighteen year old sweapants and Hanes old man t-shirt that she bought at the WalMarts during a strage men's clothing shopping impulse).
COACH: OK, but you better hop to it. I see that the Zamboni is ready to re-surface the ice so our time will be rather limited from this point out.
SPINSTER: Zamboni?! Oh good, may I have mine with a hearty bolognese sauce, please? And if you've got any garlic bread and a nice little Chianti, that would be great.
The Coach sighs heavily and looks at the little dog for support. The little dog, however, has decided to go check out the gift shop and then head back to the hotel for a lovely room service dinner and a few hours of Pay-Per-View.
COACH: Now if you'll just let me put your skates on, we can get started. Please be very careful with these, since they are sharp enough to slice a ham. As a matter of fact, we've had some very serious injuries recently, and I'm not sure that there are adequate medical personnel here to fix your femoral artery if you're unlucky enough to fall on your own skate blade. (Which, by the way, you most always will because the nature of the ice is to throw you outward into an uncontrollable lump). Once you get on the track, you'll need to get up to a speed fast enough to propel you around the course at approximately ninety billion miles an hour. Oh, and you'll need to lean a bit when you go around the curves.
SPINSTER: Lean a bit?
COACH: Yeah, you'll pretty much want to be horizontal to the ice with only your fingertips and the very tippy tippy edge of your lethal skate blade keeping you from certain death.
The Coach quickly realizes that the Spinster might not be the perfect candidate for substitution on the US Team this year, so he suggests that they head on over to the luge course to see if maybe one last event will be within her realm of possibility.
Hilarity ensues as the Spinster attempts to mount a sled the approximate size and sturdiness of a Saltine cracker. She makes it a full six feet onto the course before becoming hopelessly lodged in the luge, much like Augustus Gloop became wedged in the chocolate pipe in Willy Wonka's Facotry. The sled crumbles beneath her.
COACH: (grunting profusely while trying to unwedge the Spinster from the luge track). Um, maybe we should re-evaluate and discuss whether or not the Winter Olympic games are, um, well...appropriate...for someone of your relative physical condition and, um...er...size.
SPINSTER: (grunting profusely while trying to stand up, re-adjust the neoprene body suit that has embedded itself into her ample backside, and while also trying to look wintry and impossibly fresh looking): Why, of course, Coach. I think that I should probably head back to Hoosierville and re-think my athletic aspirations. After all...I'm already a gold medal winner in the Stitchy Numb Butt event, as well as Excessive Stashing and Futzing, and the very difficult Starting So Many Projects that I Don't Have One Damn Thing Without Thread In It semi-finals. Perhaps the Winter Games aren't for me after all.
COACH: Thanks for your participation today, Spinster. On behalf of the entire US Olympic Organizing Committee, may I just say that you are truly a great American and should be very proud of your efforts while here at the US Winter Olympic Training Facility.
SPINSTER (sniffling delicately into a hanky): I accept your thanks on behalf of spinsters everywhere, and I hope that my attendance will encourage and inspire millions more to hear the call of duty and come represent their country in what can only be described as a true testament....
(The coach stops listening while he pulls out his Blackberry to text his travel agent. Within seconds, he is confirmed on Delta flight 749 to Turks and Caicos and before the Spinster has finished her blathering, he's on his way to the East JaBip airport.)