It was a freezing cold day in January. How cold was it? I'm glad you asked. The newspaper headlines read "Nanook of the North Cancels Vancouver Trip Citing Extreme Cold." I was obliged to leave the pleasant confines of my domestic abode to sally forth down the street for something vital to my continued existence - milk for my cup of tea - and as soon as I walked outside I knew it was going to be an undertaking that would make even Edmund Hillary say "There's no way I'm going out in that."
The sidewalk and street were covered with ice that was as slippery as.....as.....a very slippery thing. They were like glass. My heart raced. My stomach turned. My colon tightened. And yet I HAD to venture forth, for my errand was pressing! So I stepped gingerly onto the sidewalk and my legs took off in different directions. I cursed myself for not reinforcing my shoes with some device to give me some traction - like gluing strips of carpet to the soles or nailing tree branches on there or even securely tying a small child to my feet with a sturdy rope (it's really effective if you can ignore the crying.)
I decided to continue on my perilous way as going back to find implements of traction would surely make me lose valuable daylight and I could hear the enemy tanks in the distance. (Ok, look, I'm just trying to make this as exciting as possible. Work with me here.)
So I took a hesitant step forward and gripped onto a tree for support. "OK," I thought, "I can do this as long as I have something to hold onto." My eagle eyes scanned the horizon and I discerned a path of support in the shape of trees and bushes which lined the street. So off I headed, gripping on for dear life to every bush that I passed.
I was making my way, slowly but surely, down the street when I stopped to catch my breath and I saw a woman walking briskly towards me across the ice IN A PAIR OF HIGH HEELS!!!!! The bitch! I couldn't believe my eyes, ears or throat! I wanted to trip her but I was too terrified to let go of the twig I was grasping. I looked around for ropes or cables that were tied to her to keep her steady but couldn't see any. And I watched in amazement as she marched off down the street, confidently traversing the ice like it wasn't there, and my heart sank. I was dejected, downcast, miserable, dismal, melancholic, woebegone, forlorn, crestfallen, gloomy, wretched and, yes, even disconsolate.
And as I stood there, cursing those cocky Canadians who like to show up us poor immigrants by demonstrating their casual ability with the elements, I thought "Screw you guys! I'm Irish! I'll march out across that ice and show you what for! And I'm not holding onto anything either! What the hell do I need this stupid Canadian bush for?" And I remembered the prophetic words of Yoda - "Do or do not. There is no try."
So I let go of the bush and boldly headed across the street, head held high, buttocks firmly tightened - and I promptly went slip sliding all over the place and creamed myself on the cold, hard ground, with people looking at me and, no doubt, concluding that I wasn't a real Canadian. I stood up really quickly, as people who fall on the street are wont to do, and pretended I was there in an official capacity, inspecting the road for hazardous spots. I even pretended I was talking on an invisible phone to some road construction crew and I said "Yeah, it's pretty icy along Maple Street. We'll definitely need the salter."
Then I limped carefully the rest of the way down the street, convinced that I had broken every bone in my body, and when I made my way back home, my milk carton under my arm, holding onto everything I could on the way - trees, bushes, telephone poles, old people, children, dogs - I remembered Yoda's words and thought "Oh, fuck off, Yoda, you're a stupid puppet."
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