You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy.
An 80 degree temperature drop in 3 hours.
80 degrees? 3 hours? That’s unheard of.
It’s like going from the dark side of the moon to the deep fryer at a burger joint.
It’s the real life equivalent of out of the frying pan and into the deep freeze.
This fast food analogy becomes real at 4 am Thursday.
I open the garage door and a blast of hot air hits me in the face.
Wow.
This is normal for South Florida on December 5th…not Nashville.
I load the car, wiping sweat from my brow.
It’s seasonally uncomfortable.
I get to the airport. All the monitors are tuned to CNN.
Weather is the news of the day. Anchors toss to reporters who toss to packages about cold. The arctic blast is coming! In some parts of the country it is all ready here.
In Nashville, urban planners have lost their minds. Will it snow? Will it be sleet? Will schools shut down? What about the Nashville Christmas Parade? Where does a man get a slushy on a day full of forecast slush?
Nobody’s saying.
I don’t pay much attention. It’s 70 degrees and I’m flying to Portland, Oregon. I don’t anticipate worrying about sleet and rain and other postal problems.
I take my seat. The flight attendant tells us to turn off our devices, then he says Denver is a wee bit cold.
How cold?
“There’s a wind out of the North West and the temperature is 80 degrees colder than it is here,” he says.
I look at the lady in the next seat.
“This guy’s math is way off.”
“That’s right,” the flight attendant continues. “By my calculations, it is 70 degrees here in Nashville. It’s -10 degrees in Denver. That’s an 80 degree difference.”
And with that said, I realize that his math is right on the money. I also realize this is going to be a Guinness book of world record experience.
An 80 degree temperature swing doesn’t happen too often in life.
I close my eyes and 3 hours later, I wake up in the frozen white tundra other wise known as Denver.
White covers the tarmac. Ground crew are bundled up like stay puff marshmallow men.
That’s when I think to myself, where’s my coat?
As I approach the front of the plane, I can feel the unbelievable blast of cold. It’s like walking into a beer freezer at Safeway with no shirt.
I get to the front and see the flight attendants shivering.
I can feel the frosty air biting at my skin. It’s a bit unnerving to be inside the plane and feel such sudden, raw, bone chilling cold.
The air is heavy. It is filled with foreboding.
“Good bye,” the flight attendant says shaking.
I step on the jet way. Super cooled air rushes around the aluminum frame of the plane and punches me in the face.
I have no coat. I feel panic as I stare up the ramp.
It is long and cold and people are running.
People are actually running.
It’s a controlled run, but there’s a twinge of anxiety.
I see a cloud of frozen steam coming from passengers literally running up the jet way.
I feel the need to run.
I lower my head and push through the cold. The air is so heavy, it hurts to breathe.
I exhale a puff of steam. I watch my breath crystallize and fall to the ground.
I want to take in this bizarre moment, but it is numbing and I am in pain. I must run up the corridor. I must find warmth.
30 anxious moments later, I exit the jet way.
It’s not till I am a full 50 yards inside the terminal that the warmth is noticeable.
As I race to my next gate, I look out the window. I see baggage handlers bundled up like Eskimos.
I have a renewed appreciation for these men and women working in Minus Ten Below.
70 degrees at 4 am. Minus 10 degrees by 8 am.
80 degree temperature differential.
Not sure if Guinness book of world records is checking, but it’s a first for me in 3 hours.
Life’s Crazy.