At the moment that the kid fell from the lift, I was thinking about how I could get around the seemingly two expert skiers to me. They were going to go straight while I wanted to wiggle my way right in my awkward skier skills.

But at that moment, the lifts had stopped. I had guessed that the kids from the ski school had fallen when exiting so the instructor was helping them up. The three remaining kids were waiting in the next lift to exit. I was right behind them, pushed to another chair by staff.

And then the kid fell screaming from the lift. Poles and skis and all. For at least 10 feet. His face hit the snow below first. He cried in pain and blood poured from his mouth onto the snow.

Two other kids left in the chair remained, awkward like a hat misplaced on a chair.

Shock gripped me, and this is the part that I feel guilty about. Because I did wonder if the staff noticed, the staff that at the booth controlling the lift and the first aid guy lurking nearby. I was silent for a moment. Then the two guys sitting next to me started yelling, “Hey hey! A kid fell!” Someone immediately ran down from the booth down the slope the kid. From above 10 feet, I heard the word “parents” and “pain”. Then the voices grew quieter.

Moments later, the lift started moving again. And I got off the lift. The guys skied away. And I saw the kids in the chair crying from the incident. But you see, I didn’t have the tools or anything to help. And so I changed my intended path while I watched from a distance as a crowd started forming around the fallen kid.