Airlift Me.

The sun is shining through thick pale platinum clouds and very small darting snowflakes are still falling, collecting in enormous piles of near-record snowfall. Today is almost a staggering -30 and the whole world seems encased in ice. If it were actually encased in ice, we might actually be warmer; igloo effects? Greenhouse effects? My understanding is they aren’t too different.

I’m dreaming of a “dreadlock holiday”. I want to be literally airlifted out of this frigid excuse for a city and into something closely resembling eden, where you can smell coconut in the air and vendors charge for photos of macaws on your shoulder.

Three years ago, February 2008 to be exact, my best friend and I went to the Dominican Republic and it was my first time away from the North American continent. For a week I was in subtle, wonderful paradise and I was completely in love, in awe, with the shiny turquoise of the ocean, the free drinks, the smiling, friendly staff and the Caribbean music playing seemingly, at all hours of the night. Something miraculous filled the air with happiness and warm sunny prospects of romance. It was completely new to me, being so far from home, feeling the sun in the middle of January, and I had actually never had a sunburn before I went to the Dominican Republic. I hadn’t ever owned a bikini or tanned or snorkeled outdoors either, prior to that vacation. It was a once in a lifetime experience, the first time seeing wild palm trees, the skies looking so incredibly far away, warm humid rain falling for mere minutes, speckling piles of soft cool sand. Laying on a towel overlooking what appears to be the very edge of the world.

I’m comparing those warm, sunny thoughts with that of the crisp, horrendous winter day that sits outside my office window. I want – no – NEED – to get out of here. Or I’m going to lose my mind.


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