A Chill In The Air

Every summer people will remind you that, "it's not the heat, it's the humidity" which really makes a day insufferable. Well, a phrase which is just as repeated though probably less well-known is that in the winter, "it's not the cold, it's the wind." Meteorologists are always making a point to let you know about the wind chill and the people you pass on the street can't wait to tell you how cold it is going to be when the wind blows. This emphasis also makes you suddenly very aware that the wind is pretty much constantly blowing - it is just a matter of how fast. If you think about it, the weather predictors may as well just tell us the windchill temperature as if that is the real temperature, because that is the only one I am worried about. Anyway, it is because of this biting wind that the most prized real estate in New England for the last few days has been any spot that is blocked from the wind. I'm clearly not an aerodynamics expert, but when everyone is fighting to stand in the same 3 ft X 2 ft area next to a building it is pretty easy to tell that is the one spot which is sheltered from the breeze.

Thus, it should come as no surprise that as I was pulling into a train station the other night there were about a dozen people huddled in the kiosk where you buy tickets and add money to your Charlie Card. The structure is only about 6 ft wide and 20 ft long and with three card machines there isn't a ton of room to spare, so those people were packed in like sardines. As I drove passed looking for a parking spot I couldn't stop the thought which said, "Look at all those pansies. It's just a little wind!" from flashing through my head. I was also glad that a train was pulling up as I was parking so I didn't have to share the same train as they did. So, naturally after I had completed my transaction (and before you ask, damn right I gave the MBTA back some of those stupid Sacajawea coins) I stepped out of the booth, perfectly willing to wait for the next train in the cold. But after a few minutes of standing in constant wind (would it kill the MBTA to increase the frequency of trains on the Green Line?) and I could no longer feel the tips of my ears, a second thought kept flashing in my head, "Go inside - you're being an asshole."

I have no idea why it is such a guy thing that we can not admit when we are cold. I can only assume it is a testosterone issue, deeply embedded in our brains since the caveman days. Whatever the reason, it is a serious problem. I can not tell you the number of times I didn't bring a jacket with me when I was going out in college because I was trying to appear tough. As a group, guys in their 20s can not wait to ditch their jackets. Honestly, all it takes is one person to point out that they will not need one once they are inside for the entire group to go along with that logic, as if coats take up three times as much room once you bring them inside a bar. It's a pride thing - as soon as one guy announces his is leaving his jacket in the car every other guy in that circle would rather catch pneumonia than be caught with a coat on. (Ladies, before you get too high and mighty about this point, I would like it pointed out that while you are more willing to admit you are cold, you also did things in your 20s like wear skirts to clubs in the middle of January when you knew you were going to be waiting in line to get in. We're equally dumb on this one.) I'm just happy I was never friends with anyone who thought going shirtless to a sub-zero football game was the ultimate sign of machismo.

I guess it should be taken as a sign of maturity that I was willing to admit I am not actually part polar bear, slink into the card kiosk and close the door behind me. (It was a lot easier to swallow my pride because, thankfully, I hadn't made my original feelings about the people who were waiting in there public. That would have made it too awkward.) And I'm glad I did, because it was lovely in there - there were space heaters and everything. Considering I still had to walk a small distance exposed to the wind once my train reached its destination those few minutes I gave my ears to thaw may have saved them from frostbite. I'm just surprised it took me so long to get to this point, because I have always thought the aforementioned 'shirtless guy at the football game' was an idiot. Trust me on this one - no one is inspired by your effort and we are laughing at you, not with you. But the thing is that while the shirtless guy at the football game is the extreme example, it is the same premise as not wearing a jacket at any point in the winter. So, in the words of Val Kilmer from "Tombstone", "My hypocrisy goes only so far." It is just sad that it took single-digit windchills to make me have this revelation.