That freezing cold walk

Look, it’s not that far, we can walk.

I assured Kristen that I could order an Uber to take us to the museum, but she was having none of it. It was payback for me forcing her to attend a tactical goods shop with me earlier in this business trip.

My Australian skin had not felt temperatures like this. An Ottawa winter made me realize that I did not have the fortitude to survive in sub-zero temperatures. But this was a work colleague that I respected so I’d push on.

I had layers covering layers. Gloves with hand warmers inside them. Foot warmers inside my boots. But still, I was cursing my decision to not buy a balaclava. I tried to warm my only exposed extremities by cupping my hands over my face, but it was a futile effort. My mind went to a place where I would lose my nose to frostbite.

Full of her usual chipperness, however, Kristen pushed on. As we crossed the bridge over the Ottawa River the wind seemed to whip up from the frozen waters below. I conserved my energy, by not talking. All I could hear Kristen say was “Wow, this is so nice!” I allowed my looks of disdain to be my language of choice.

When we finally arrived at our destination, I sourced the nearest coffee station to defrost from the inside out.

Despite her claims that the weather outside had warmed up, our return to the hotel was via Uber.