Regardless, I slap on some clothes (not zombie-like) and head out the door. This morning was no different. And when you live in a state like Florida, you sometimes expect it will never be cold when you step outside. So, when I felt the chilly air this morning, I had two choices: speed-drag myself to class to escape the cold faster, or go back inside for different clothes. I chose the high road.
It's not exactly a journey to class from my place, so it wasn't too bad. However, when I got to class and mentioned the cold to one of my friends, he told me it was roughly 45°F outside. And then I felt like shit.
45°F? I rushed to class over a temperature not even close to freezing? I had to make sure my friend wasn't just estimating, so I checked the temperature myself.
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| weather.gov |
Nope. I felt like I should've turned in my Man Card, or at least my Northerner Card. Maybe both.
Admittedly, this isn't the first time this has happened, especially with all the polar vortex stuff that happened recently.
What's strange, though, is that I've had to deal with much colder weather not too long ago when visiting family near Boston. It's not like I've just acclimated exclusively to the Florida weather and can no longer handle anything that isn't beach-goer worthy. Well, at least I hope I haven't.
With a hoodie, a shirt, and jeans, I pressed myself to escape 45°F in Florida. Wearing pretty much the exact same clothing, I stood outside to watch the snow fall at night last year in Massachusetts. About a year before that, I wore the exact same outfit to hike a snow-capped mountain in Alaska. So, I've come to the conclusion that my tolerance for cold and hot temperatures depends greatly on my location.
Then again, snow is like crack-cocaine for me and may distort my perception of hot and cold. I fucking love snow.
Admittedly, this isn't the first time this has happened, especially with all the polar vortex stuff that happened recently.
What's strange, though, is that I've had to deal with much colder weather not too long ago when visiting family near Boston. It's not like I've just acclimated exclusively to the Florida weather and can no longer handle anything that isn't beach-goer worthy. Well, at least I hope I haven't.
With a hoodie, a shirt, and jeans, I pressed myself to escape 45°F in Florida. Wearing pretty much the exact same clothing, I stood outside to watch the snow fall at night last year in Massachusetts. About a year before that, I wore the exact same outfit to hike a snow-capped mountain in Alaska. So, I've come to the conclusion that my tolerance for cold and hot temperatures depends greatly on my location.
Then again, snow is like crack-cocaine for me and may distort my perception of hot and cold. I fucking love snow.
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