Are you cold? We’re cold. If you’re not cold, we don’t want to hear about it. Besides you might have your own set of problems to contend with like drought and bursting into flames. Maybe this is really the Apocalypse the Mayans were talking about, just a year late because of some ancient daylight savings year algorithm understood only by the sun god . . .who wants you to burst into flames.

Erin: But we were talking about cold and trying to angle our way to the Polar Vortex–such a sexy term for what is basically cyclonically freezing your patooty off.

Ellen: Hey, another fun fact–did you know some signs of hypothermia are mumbling and difficulty thinking? I’ve always adored the color green and does anyone really like coconut ice cream?

Erin: Haven’t you thawed out from the train ride by now?

Ellen: The train ride. The Polar Vortex was all fun and games and hot toddies until we took that train ride.

Erin: See, we were going to a meeting in Washington D.C.–a two hour drive from where we live.

Ellen: A two hour drive if every human on earth was vaporized by the sun god. The problem is, we had to travel during rush hour and the last time we did that it took us four hours.

Erin: So since we are sensible, we weren’t going to repeat a travel mistake twice. We were going to take the train!

Ellen: And this is when the Polar Vortex starting to nip at our frozen assets.

Erin: So without further ado, we present to you The Stages of Hypothermia That Slowly Affect You As You Are Sitting On A Train That Is Being Delayed On Your Way To Washington To . . .

Ellen: Rambling. Rambling is also a sign of hypothermia.

Stages of Amtrak Hypothermia

Stage 1

Freeze your fingers. Realize what a mistake it was to forget your gloves (Erin) because your fingers might fall off from the cold after only being outside for 2 minutes in the Amtrak parking garage. Turn in the general direction of the Mayan pyramids to praise them because Ellen’s daughter is such a slob and left her funky zebra striped hybrid mitten/gloves under her seat.

Stage 2

Turn your toes into ice blocks. You “shun” the warmth of the lobby to wait outside for your train. Hazy thinking has not set in yet, it’s the electronic signs lying to you. When you went up the steps to the tracks the signs at the bottom said the train was on time. No sign at the top of the steps informed you otherwise. Remain in the cold at the top of the steps because you are punked by a train that is not your train coming at the exact time YOUR train was supposed to be there.

Stage 3

Turn your feet into ice blocks. Not because your judgement is declining, but because the punking just doesn’t stop. You’re afraid to leave the platform because after the train that is not your train pulls away, the sign says your train is coming, then that it is loading, and then that it is last call. It must have been Wonder Woman’s newly commissioned train because it was invisible.

Stage 4

Continue to bathe in cold. When you finally get on your train an hour and a half later why let the frozen good times stop there? Drag your shizz through 6 train cars without finding a single seat. Give up and fall into the ONLY two seats available. Hooray! They are those awkward face-the-other-two-strangers type of seats. Bonus? They are right. by. the. door. Cue arctic blasts every 6.5 minutes.

Stage 5

Exacerbate frozen feet by restricting blood flow. The two strangers in the seats facing you are seven foot tall Russians. No blood is getting to your feet because your legs are crunched into 0.2 microns of cubic space. Be further chilled by the glare of the blue-haired, pierced millennial sitting across the aisle who loathes you just for existing. Start to hallucinate that she is Jack Frost.

Stage 6

Complaining commences. The Train of Tardiness is SLLLLLLOOOOOOOOOOWWW. Ellen starts to loudly point out that a dog sled would be faster. Ducks are walking faster than our train.

Stage 7

Pollyanna cracks. Erin piles on scarves that she is pulling out of thin air like a meth-addled magician. HER complaining begins.

Stage 8

Clumsiness creeps in. When you’re finally released from the Siberian Gulag Express, fall down the steps (Erin) with a dramatic fling of your suitcase at the conductor. Curse the Polar Vortex for piling three inches of ice and snow on the tiny metal steps. Copy down the number for 1-800-YOUHAVEALAWYER because really, if the conductor had just cleaned off the steps he would not have received a face full of suitcase.

Stage 9

Despair and poor decision making sets in. Walk out of Union Station to find a 20 minute line for the taxis. Instead of walking a block to immediately hail a taxi, stand in line like a peasant waiting for bread rations. Still maintain enough coherence to complain that the idiots are only loading one taxi at a time despite the fact there is a whole friggin’ line of them waiting.

Stage 10

Babbling escalates. Apparently once a Pollyanna cracks, the negativity flows out from the depths of her soul. Maybe these cleanses are how Erin maintains her sunny disposition most of the time. Babble-y complain so much that the normal woman in front of you offers you a blanket. Get a relapse of sense and break ranks to jump into the third taxi in line. If the outside is Siberia-esque, the cab is like a pup tent on the frozen tundra. So basically, hour five of freezing continues to tick away.

RESCUE!

Deposited at the first aid station. In this case, the “station” was Cuba Libre and the “aid” was mojitoes and malanga fritters, but you say “poe-tay-toe,” we say “Suck it Amtrak.” Do not ask us to join in singing any round robin railroad songs any time soon, but we may be up for a Cha-Cha.

 

May your travels be warmer and less eventful.

-Ellen and Erin