Yeah, it's cold. . .

Everyone is talking about the cold weather; from the balmy coolness of the Florida Keys to the frigid below zero weather in our snow packed Mid-West. Fires are blazing in the hearths and hearty beef stew and spicy chili are cooking in the crock pots. Hot tea and warm cocoa are the beverages of choice; although I would prefer a warm brandy to give my interior the warm fuzzies.

I'm fortunate to live in one of those climates where we get a glimpse of all four seasons; but other than the scorching summers, none to the extreme. Oh, it's cold now; with the afternoon highs barely reaching into the 40s and the overnight lows in the teens. There's talk of snow, although a light dusting. I can't complain. I won't complain. I won't complain because I know people live in far worse winters that I have only have to visit.

One particular winter visit comes to mind. It wasn't a trip for pleasure; for the ski trips are planned expecting snow, snow and cold. For many years I worked for a Boston-based company. I telecommuted most of the time, but did have to show up in the office a few times a month. I spent a lot of time planning my schedule to try to avoid a January in Boston. It didn't always work out that way.

One January, several years ago, was one of the coldest the Boston area had seen in a long time. And, of course, I had to go for some important meetings. My colleagues warned me and told me to layer upon layer upon layer, because it was "cold". When life long Bostonians tell you it's cold, you really should believe them.

I flew up in the morning and admit that coming out of those doors at Logan Airport were a bit of a shock. "Gee," I thought, "it really is cold." I got to the office about 1 PM and schlepped my luggage and briefcase into my office and got to work. As the day began to turn into night, I was still working in my office. Occasionally, one of my colleagues would stop by for a chat and say good night. All warning me to keep bundled up when I left to go to my hotel. I worked on for awhile and decided to call it a day.

I began re-applying my layers of clothing, wrapping my scarf several times around my neck, tucking my gloves tightly to my fingers, setting my ear muffs in position and pulling my hat far down on my head. I strapped my purse across me and my briefcase on the opposite side and pulled my suitcase into the elevator.

In the lobby the night guard smiled at me and shrugged his shoulders. "Be careful out there, it's snowing again and there is a good bit of ice on the sidewalks. Great. I still had a little limp from breaking my ankle on ice the year before. He came out from behind his desk and unlocked the door for me to leave.

"NO, NO, don't make me go out there!" I only had about three blocks (long city blocks) to go to the hotel. "Do you think a cab will take me?" He smiled again, "you'll be at the hotel before I can get a cab here." I heard the door lock behind me.

"Slowly," I thought. "Go slowly and watch your step." My footsteps and the wheels of the suitcase made light crunching sounds on the snowy sidewalk on Federal Street. The street was empty. I know there were some poor souls still working in those buildings, but none to be found on the street. The snow was coming down a little heavier and was stinging my face. I stopped to readjust my scarf and pull the hood of my coat up over my head. I felt like that the little brother in the movie, The Christmas Story, so bundled up that I could barely move my arms.

My steps were still carefully taken to avoid the icy patches. I came to an alley way, and as is my habit, I looked down the alley to make sure there was no traffic coming. I couldn't see a damn thing. I was wearing my eye glasses, and having wrapped my face so carefully, my breathing was fogging my glasses. Not only could I not move my arms, I was blinded by my own breath. Another stop for a readjustment of winter garb.

I made it to the end of Federal and realized that my security pass would get me in the building across the street. I could walk through that building to the other side and come out in front of my hotel. Brilliant. I can spare myself from some icy patches and give my glasses time to unfog. It was a good idea in theory, until I had to drag my suitcase up about six, very icy steps to the revolving door. Picture a woman, laden with coats, scarfs, briefcase and purse trying to force herself and her paraphernalia through a revolving door. I was finally glad that there were no people on the street.

Upon entering I noticed the night guard smiling. He chuckled, "you aren't from Boston are you?" Very funny. I knew this guard since I use to work in that building. He let me through the shortcut in the building and apologized that he couldn't help me across the street to my hotel. "Can't leave my post, you know."

I stood outside and looked at my hotel across the frozen street. So close. But why so frozen? I stood for several minutes trying to figure out how I was going to make this short trip without falling. I held on to the parking meter for a moment and went for it. Me and the suitcase went flying across the street. I grabbed on to a parked car and somehow bounced off into another car. I made it to another parking meter and held on for dear life. Half a block more to go to the hotel entrance. I grabbed on to another parking meter, gave myself another little push and went on to the next. It was "do-si-do" with the parking meters.

When I got to the front door of the hotel, I heard applause. Three guys were standing outside the bar next to the hotel, smoking. "Excellent maneuvering," said one. "You couldn't have helped me?" I asked. "Nah," said one, "we've been drinking." "Check in and come on done and we'll buy you a drink."

Oh, I went down for that drink and learned that half the bar had been watching me do the grand alamand with the parking meters.

I left the office before dark the rest of that week. Who knew parking meters could be so useful.