If there's one thing I have a pretty severe hatred for, it's the cold. That and round shoelaces because it takes quadruple knots to keep them tied for more than twenty steps. It's like- come on, shoelace, this is your destiny, just embrace it like the rest of us.
Anyway, so at the moment I'm in Bloomington/Normal, IN. As is the custom on Farewell Flight tours, the worst weather seems to follow us. The high today was a balmy 17 degrees, with the wind chill making feel like 5. I have yet to go outside today (it's 5 p.m.). If cold wants to fight me, bring it, but you're not drawing me into your trap. (I wonder if when people start addressing "cold" as a person, it's a sign they're losing their mind).
Here's the thing about cold: everyone that lives where it's cold is in total denial that it sucks, because no one wants to admit they're dumb for not moving somewhere warmer. Excuses are as follows:
1) In the winter, you can always get warmer, just add more layers. False. I've added more layers than a Taco Bell Gordita Crunch Wrap Supreme and unless there's a way to put insulation over my eyes, nose, and mouth and still live, I still can't get warm. If that were the case, we'd be able to have tiki deck parties, ride go karts*, and play miniature golf all year round.
2) The snow is nice. Nope. Well, the first snow is nice. Nope. Well the first hour after the first snow is nice...until you have to shovel it, until it sticks to your shoes and follows you into your house and car, until salt from the road covers your car, until it blinds you when driving, until it sits for a week and gets gray and gross and why is snow nice? Exactly.
3) But the summers are cooler. Unless you live in Colorado or Vermont, there's a thing called humidity. That thing makes the summers just as bad as many other places in the south, minus Texas. And that place doesn't count because it's just weird hot there. Like morph-the-brain into thinking where you live is a different country hot. Doesn't count.
Right now I'm a hypocrite because I'm moored in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. That said, at some point this band will probably drive me to homelessness. And when I'm free of all possessions and my lovely wife-to-be excuses me from her existence, you can be guaranteed I will hop the nearest train south or west and settle down with a nice Kroger shopping cart and a wind-up AM/FM radio.
So take a vacation to San Diego in five years and visit me on the Ocean Beach boardwalk. I'll be the one holding the cardboard "Beer or Food or Wine" sign wearing nothing but Hyper-Color swim trunks. Tanned and warm.
*really why I hate winter, you can disregard the rest
