Cold Everest

Monday, 27 January 2003

’tis currently 1° outside my window. coupled with the wind chill and the weight of my fencing bag, i am not looking forward to the 20 minute walk to work today. i haven’t been outside for about 24 hours but i still feel like pretty much any old guy from a Jack London short story. Lost in the Yukon, in weather so cold spit freezes before it hits the ground and me with nary a match to start a fire. so i slowly describe how i freeze to death in agonizing fashion. or maybe i feel like that guy who climbed everest, went snowblind and froze to the mountain. people came and looked at him, assumed he was dead and left to pick him up later. the only thing is, he could see them but not communicate because he was frozen. somehow, he managed to start moving and made it back to base camp. he lost his arms, legs, ears, tip of the nose, pretty much anything that sticks out. i think i would’ve just stayed on the mountain.

i think i heard somewhere that Everest is so high that sometimes the jet stream will dip down and knock people off. i can just picture that crotchety old North wind with his distended cheeks leering as another climber is puffed off the mountain like so much dryer lint.