There’s no worse feeling than waking up late. The alarm clock stares at you like “haaaa you didn’t set me”. If it had the ability to point and laugh I swear it would. I’m supposed to be at work 30 minutes ago, not good. I roll out of bed and into the inferno I call a shower. It’s -27 outside and I am in no mood to be cold. Scrub a dub dub I jump out of the tub and into my usual work threads. I say bye to the dog and away I go.
I work overnight at a local Post office. It’s 10 PM when I leave. I open the front door And I’m met with a feeling I can only describe as pain and suffering. The frigid air touches me for the first time and I tense up. I twist the frozen lock so hard I bend my key, there’s no time to check it I’m freezing. A slow jog to my truck and I’m safe from the elements. Wrong. My truck is a complete icebox and the leather is colder than the cow it was taken from.
Why is old man winter such a grumpy old bastard?. Does he not know that my life has no time allocated to deal with -27 plus windchill?. He’s not chill at all.
I finally warm up the truck and begin my 20-minute trek to work. My windshield washer fluid light is on. I’m low on gas. It’s a perfect storm of events that is going to make me incredibly late. The good news is that gas is cheap at night so I don’t mind stopping as much. I pull in. Get out. Insert my credit card and wait…and wait. A minute in -27 is a lifetime. The machine beeps a bunch and I’m ready to pump. The minute I put my hand on the trigger my skin and the metal become one. The pain was instant and the F-bombs were flying for all to hear. I try and stuff my hands inside my coat and use it like a glove. The only thing that accomplishes is making my arms shorter. So here I am at midnight, pumping gas like a T. rex in -27 plus wind no chill.
I’m 31 years old and have lived in Canada my entire life. This is important to know because for some reason I don’t own a pair of gloves or a pair of boots. Nike tennis shoes are my footwear of choice to take on the true north. I deserve to be cold. I get it.
I finally arrive at work 2 hours late. I decide I’m going to make up some time and jog inside. I could probably afford to work off some of the Big Mac I just ate as well. After 4 or 5 steps my tennis shoes betray me. My ass and hip meet the pavement and 2 things happened. Firstly, I farted. Secondly, I let out a sound I’ve never heard myself make. It was like an “ooooooooooouuuufffffffffaayyyyaaaa”. I check to see if anyone has seen this tragedy but of course, not….I’m 2 hours late. I pick myself up and limp Inside.
Although I appeared to be on the brink of survival when I did. I made it. I went 12 rounds with the grumpy old bastard and I survived (barely). Canadians deserve better Old man. A better, nicer and more forgiving version of you.