February 06, 2006

The drive home from London was tough, and not just because my legs trembled with the muscular memory of too many orgasms. The weather was hell. A million snow squalls danced throughout the land, ripping away asphalt and replacing it with a mass of swirling snow. I tell ya, I couldn’t see anything in my headlights except a wall of ice, my hands shaking on the steering wheel…

Trivia: London is the thunder capital of Canada. All the storms that gather strength above the lakes barrel towards London to release their angst.

In a snowstorm, the ditches have a strong gravitational pull, and the car spun wildly all over the road. I didn’t think I’d make it home with my head intact, especially when a transport truck speed by and released a giant sheet of ice that smashed straight into my windshield. Bang!

Know this: it’s a lot more fun to juggle naked in your room than to drive for four ungodly hours in the middle of a storm.