A Snowball in Hell

Dear Shawn,

For the first time this year, I got to see a winter wonderland. I was in Calgary, up in Canada (eh?) and noticed the snow as we descended in the darkness of night. I certainly noticed it waiting for the van out front in the 7 degree night air. It wasn’t until I opened the window this morning that the full glory of the wintry snowscape captured my attention. I stopped, grabbed my camera, and took a photo of the airport in the distance, where nothing was between it and me but snow, snow, snow!

We got in the hotel van to leave this morning and I enjoyed the views on our short journey. The driver had the heat on, and it made me wonder about people and heat in vehicles. For seventeen years, I’ve enjoyed traveling the world with this job, relishing the chance to see a landscape covered in snow in the winters, since I don’t live where that happens, and for seventeen years I’ve dealt with hotel vans that seem to either be witch’s tits cold, or Satan’s crotch hot.

The heat was on full blast. We all had coats and jackets, it was only a short drive, so why did it have to be 130 degrees inside the van? Can’t we just deal with something more like, 75 degrees? I think I noticed snow melting as we drove past. The driver appeared to be from India. Perhaps he simply missed the heat of his home country. I was in India once, on my birthday, in December. I remember when the wind stopped blowing onto the beach, and instantly my sweat glands went into overdrive and my shirt was as wet as a college beauty at a wet tee-shirt contest. It felt like 120 degrees. Miserable.

We finally arrived at the airport and as I stood in the cold, waiting for the driver to get our bags out of the back, I think I saw steam rising into the air from my jacket. It was nice to feel the cold again. My name sure is appropriate for my love of cold. I do love to visit it, but I’m glad I don’t live in it.