I always feel a fool when I get off the plane in LA with my winter coat. It sits untouched in my hotel while I'm there. We natives nod to each other as we stuff them in the overhead, against flight crew instructions, on the way back East. But we know.
I pre-heated my coat to about 5,000 degrees while we wait for the ground crew to figure out (is this their first time?) how to get us off the plane and into the terminal.
It's all so refined. Just a tiny gap between the fuselage and the air-bridge...but its enough. That one breath of sixteen degree air stings and delivers on all threats. You really might freeze.. you know..to death.. when you leave the building.
I did grow up with winter, with the cold, its smell, the way it tightens your skin and makes you move. As a kid the snow alters your ordinary world and makes just falling down more fun.
It is soothing to me now. It has a sameness and a quiet. A kind of pleasant isolation. Warm is after all just inside.
I actually like when these winter pictures come up on my CEIVA at some un-wintery part of the year. They put me there. In that stillness for just a moment.
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