Guh
It’s cold. Man-killing cold. An angry, vengeful cold that refuses to observe modern conveniences, like coats and gloves.
And that’s actually warmer than it was about a half-hour ago, when it said -2 and -17.
Sunday night, I worked the pizza gig in this weather. As if the cold wasn’t enough, add in a few inches of driving snow and vaguely defined roads under a compacted layer of ice. The only cars on the road had various delivery signs on top. I felt like a member of a fraternity of dare-devils, obsessed with feeding calorie-dense foods to people.
The tips were good. At least most people recognized their transferral of deadly risk to the shivering pizza boy desperately trying to manipulate the velcro on the hot-bag with dead hands. The pizza box steamed like some cheap dry-ice smoke machine.
Except for one guy. He graced me with a twenty-three cent keep-the-change tip while saying ‘that’s for you since it is so bad out there’.
I’m thinking I could have stuffed his body in a snow bank and he wouldn’t be found until May.
Stay warm.
Filed under: Grab Bag
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