You know those stories you used to hear about your parents walking to school, up hill, both ways, with the wind at their face and whirling snow freeze-drying their hair? Well, that was me this morning, and I want to have a record of it for my children in case they question the truthfulness of my gray-haired tales. Since my employment is also a school (The University), I think I can make the same claims as my forefathers.
I departed work at 6:55 this morning and arrived promptly at 8:35. I thought I would type this blog entry as it would help restore sensation to my finders; if I could type with my toes, I would.
We were met with a blizzard last night as temperatures plummeted and cars slid to and fro. I really enjoy taking the bus, but it is positively the worst method of travel on stormy days. Not only do you have to leave your house at dawn to trudge through the un-shoveled walks (I’m not innocent), but you also putter along in the bus in the right lane, inching around cars that are stuck in the snow banks. When you arrive downtown for your connection (as in my case), you desperately want to run to catch your next bus, but the elderly lady attempting to navigate the icy sidewalks has a look on her face that says, “I wish I had a young man nearby so I could hold his arm.” So you help the poor woman, and end up waiting 30 minutes downtown for the next bus to arrive.
As I stood on the sidewalk freezing – in sheer amazement that none of the four possible busses I could take were on time – I could only wonder if this would be my final hour. The storm was so intense I think others outside were also wondered if this was the dawning of the second ice age. I had visions of future generations extracting my preserved body from the snow and ice as I clutched a copy of the bus schedule in my hands. They would ask questions, like “What was this man doing out in conditions like this?” Little would my discoverers know that I had saved their great, great, great, grandmother from a similar fate.
Before my demise, however, the saving bus finally came and dropped me off at the base of Presidents Circle. What would normally only be a walk a few hundred yards to my building up a moderate incline felt like summitting Mount Aconcagua (without oxygen support, of course), I arrived safely, albeit really late.
