An Even Bigger Butterfly, Part 1.
Note From The Author: This story takes place before the last one. I wanted to tell the tales in order, but that's just not going to happen. Sorry.
The sudden cold snap of a Connecticut winter will, if you're frail enough, knock you over. Sure, there are colder places, but part of the insular charm we Northeasterners exude is that we haven't heard of them, or don't believe they're worse than what we have. I'm told that International Falls, MN, is among the coldest places on Earth, for instance...but I've never been there, and they've never come within a snowflake's-breadth of wrapping their car around a Jersey barrier in slushy downtown Bridgeport (the barriers were put up to deter drive-by shootings; they were, and are, a phenomenal success in that department, but a terrible hazard to unassuming, and presumably unarmed, visitors to the Park City.)
Because we are used to colder climes, or perhaps in spite of the agonizing death of all the shrubbery, some of us celebrate New Year's with an ardor unseen since the Druids.
Every New Year's Eve, from 1987-88 to 1991-92, I threw a semi-legendary New Year's Eve party. And that last year, it threw me.
Note From The Author: This story takes place before the last one. I wanted to tell the tales in order, but that's just not going to happen. Sorry.
The sudden cold snap of a Connecticut winter will, if you're frail enough, knock you over. Sure, there are colder places, but part of the insular charm we Northeasterners exude is that we haven't heard of them, or don't believe they're worse than what we have. I'm told that International Falls, MN, is among the coldest places on Earth, for instance...but I've never been there, and they've never come within a snowflake's-breadth of wrapping their car around a Jersey barrier in slushy downtown Bridgeport (the barriers were put up to deter drive-by shootings; they were, and are, a phenomenal success in that department, but a terrible hazard to unassuming, and presumably unarmed, visitors to the Park City.)
Because we are used to colder climes, or perhaps in spite of the agonizing death of all the shrubbery, some of us celebrate New Year's with an ardor unseen since the Druids.
Every New Year's Eve, from 1987-88 to 1991-92, I threw a semi-legendary New Year's Eve party. And that last year, it threw me.
posted by Thom Guthrie, Bassist and Adventurer at 12:00 PM
3 Comments:
Good to see you, Irish. You know, the coldest day I've ever known was while we were at E-tone together. Nothing really exceptional happened, but Sweet Monkey Love it was cold. That was January 2000, right before I gave notice to Joe Squirtle, our Pokemanager.
Cheers,
Guthrie, who loves the cold and all who'll bear it.
MOTHRA FACKO!
1. You owe me a quarter, you fudgeknuckled papist. Oh wait, call us even.
2. I also enjoy the winter. Except when driving with you, Captain Cold.
Bok props, baby. Bok props.
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