My dad called me a short time ago. “I’m getting Steelers playoff tickets. Want to go?” “Sure, let me check my schedule.” We were all excited, then the forecast came out. He texted me, “High of 21.” Great, thanks. Two days later – “Now high of 19.” How about we stop with the weather updates, Al Roker? It’s going to suck.
I’m a hot person. I shoveled my driveway after a three inch snow and I got so hot I did the last 20 minutes in a tee shirt in 30 degree weather. I can sweat without moving in 50 degree temps. I knew this would be different. Turns out it was high of 16, but don’t worry! My weather app also said “FEELS LIKE 1.” Well, terrific. Here I thought the heat wave of 16 would ruin my day, but thankfully it’s one degree with the polar blast of wind coming off the three river confluence.
I pulled my phone out to take pics of the stadium in all its glory and the phone said, “Piss off, I quit.” My phone shut off. It was too cold. I had to press it to my neck for ten minutes to get warm enough to take three pics, then it shut off again.
How cold was it? The ref’s whistle froze. I went to take a leak and guys were eating their food in the bathroom because it was out of the wind. MY BEER FROZE BEFORE I COULD FINISH IT. Do you know how fast I can drink a beer? I actually thought this may be my final picture ever.
The Steelers won big, which meant we may have left a bit early, like oh, 86% of the fans there. I probably could have made it, but my feet felt like someone was jamming needles into them and it took me 20 minutes to get my four pants layers off to pee, so there you have it. It was fun, but next time I’m taking a huge barrel to start a fire in. I’m sure they won’t care.
