IT’s Cold Out…DUHHH

I did not want to leave the warm incubator that was the Express Bus this morning and step out into the 8 degree weather to walk to work. Although 8 is my favorite number, it is certainly not acceptable for the morning’s temperature in Fahrenheit measurement. I felt groggy as I got off the bus and fell face forward down the bus’ two stairs crushing the middle aged woman walking in front of me. Luckily her body was cushioned by a snowbank. I rolled off of her and saw her face was covered with snow. “Has anyone ever told you, you look like Snow White?,” I asked her trying to change the subject “It’s a good look for you”, I said as I walked away briskly. My teeth started to chatter.

I will take this moment to applaud those who have a job that includes standing outside in the cold for long periods of time. This includes street vendors and policemen. I am not going to include those guys who dress up as Elmo because they are insulated by large, furry red costumes- and c’mon, anyone who dresses as Elmo on a daily basis must have a heart the size of a small puppy that pumps warm, happy blood throughout their veins, keeping them roasty, toasty and jovial.

I walked at a fast pace from the bus. I find it highly impressive that I can walk the whole way [one avenue and 4 blocks], without looking up once. That’s the good thing about walking with a sea of fellow commuters- I just peripherally follow their pace and trust that they will get me across the street without being sideswiped by a yellow street cab.

The part of my body that was most cold was my legs [below the knee where my jacket cutoff] and my toes [I wasn’t wearing shoes]. My flesh felt icy. My chest felt icy. The ice tray of water that I was carrying felt icy. It was amazing to see how quickly H20 freezes. I like to perform as many experiments as I can in a given day and write research papers, just for fun. For example, last month I wrote an analysis on what I think the 28th floor’s receptionist looks like based off his deep, jazzy vocals I hear when I call to book conference rooms. I concluded Garfield is a mixture of American Idol’s Randy Jackson, Morgan Freeman circa March of The Penguins, and the late Bernie Mac whose crazy eyes made my heart skip a beat.

I once disguised myself as a cleaning lady and moseyed up to the 28th floor to catch a glimpse of Garfield. I did not want to meet him for the first time, as myself, because I assumed he too had grandeur ideas of what I looked like. I paid our janitor $12 dollars to borrow his push cart, Aquanetted my hair into a 70’s up-do, and made a name tag with magic markers that read, “Aretha”. The elevator doors opened and I spotted Garfield. I first thing I noticed about him was his…

TO BE CONTINUED…