This week has been particularly bizarre. Tuesday, I woke up, and it was snowy, slushy, and icy all at once. As someone who hates driving in the best of weather, there was no way I was risking the drive across the city in rush hour traffic for my one class. All anyone who heard this argument had to do was look outside, and they'd see my point.
Then the afternoon came, and it stopped snowing. The ice melted. It was a beautiful day. My dad came home from work and asked me why I hadn't gone to class that day. Suddenly my excuses seemed lame.
The rest of the week got even more interesting. Wednesday I didn't wear a jacket, Thursday I froze on my way into school. But it wasn't till Saturday that it really got interesting.
Saturday morning and afternoon were beautiful and sunny, I went around in jeans and a light jacket. Saturday evening I had a church meeting. It was still nice out, so I changed into my skirt without much thought of the weather. I didn't even wear tights. I almost didn't bring a jacket either, but at the last minute, I grabbed a light one that went with my shoes.
The meeting was great. Inspired, good music, and I caught up with a few friends afterward. Then I looked outside.
You couldn't see far out the glass door. Snow was blowing everywhere. Someone went outside and a blast of cold air hit me like a slap in the face. I looked down at my high heeled shoes with their open toes. The parking lot was covered in ice and snow. We'd parked on the far side of the parking lot. It had been hard enough walking across that ice in heels to get into the church. The problem now would be that there was a cold wind and snow flying through the air. I wouldn't want to carefully walk through that parking lot. I'd want to run. And let me tell you, running in heels on ice is not for the faint hearted.
My only comfort was I'd brought some kind of coat. I looked at my friends who didn't have anything but their suit jackets, and was grateful I'd thought to wear more then a cardigan. Still, there was no way I was going out across that parking lot. My dad brought the car to the door.
On that note, I discovered something through this experience; chivalry is not dead. In all this madness, it was the men who were running out in the cold and getting cars to the door, so the women don't have to go marching through the snow in their open toed shoes. It was one of those moments that gave me hope for the future.
To really be prepared in Calgary, one has to bring several different outfits. How else do you avoid moments like this? I think though, it would very nice to live somewhere where the seasons run on monthly periods instead of hourly.