Frozen Cubans and other thoughts

With deepest apologies to my friend Lauren, who will probably still kick the crap out of me for posting this.

Well, today was a rather cold experience, and it was also a very funny one. I was supposed to have the day off, but I went ahead and went into work anyways to finish a story. Because I could.

And because I needed to get a story done so it could be edited in the morning.

The streets were empty as everyone else had the day off too, except the poor souls working the metrorail, the Quizno's I bought lunch from, and the Scripps Howard Media center, which had a skeleton crew in who were impressed at the dedication of myself and my colleague, Lauren. This is where things get funny.

Lauren is a wonderful person whose company I dearly, dearly enjoy. Lauren is of Cuban descent, and grew up in Miami, Florida. You know, that place that almost always is very, very warm. That place where they really don't experience winter. Yeah, you know that place, at least by reputation, right?

Well, poor, poor Lauren, who worked there next to me most of the day doing research, has not adjusted to the climate whatsoever. In fact, I believe this is her first actual winter. Ever.

Well, except for skiing, I think, but that shouldn't count.

Whatever the case, poor, poor Lauren doesn't react well to the cold. Even today, when she wore 2-3 coats, a couple hats, and a hefty scarf over most of her face that looks like a kaffiyeh. Ok, Ok, a Burqua.

So today, when we got done with work, and had to go home, it became a rather... interesting experience.

It's a four block walk (rhyming, it's fun) from the bureau to our subway, and every foot of it was horrible for the poor girl. She buttoned and bundled herself up completely before she left the elevator, but I could tell the cold was getting to her. After a block or so of "It's f*****g cold" (use your imagination, and add a Cuban accent to it) and the like, I threw my arm around her shoulders and joked that this should make her warmer.

Well, as luck would have it, it made her feel warmer. Plus, I was walking on the windy side, blocking the wind. So she told me to keep holding her shoulder close, and I, not wanting to invoke the wrath of a cold Cuban, complied. As we got closer to the station, she actually yelled "Hold me tighter" in a tone of voice that made me fear for my life.

Picture this: a 6-foot male squeezing a 5 foot girl with her face completely covered except for her eyes and screaming incoherently every little while. If we didn't look like an Afghani couple out on a date, I imagine we at least looked utterly ridiculous.

We finally made it to the station, and it was heated, so I didn't have to hold on to her with a deathgrip anymore. It was then that I realized that while she had been freezing her Latina ass off, I had been sweating. (From feeling warm from walking so briskly from the office, not any... unproffessional reasons. Pervert.) I didn't have the spine to tell her.

To be fair, Lauren is a wonderful girl whose friendship and company I always enjoy having, no matter the temperature.

In her defense, I am taking some serious license with this story, just for the sake of making it even more funny. In my defense, hey, you enjoyed reading it, didn't you? You sick jerk.

***Update***
First off, I showed this post to Lauren. She laughed very, very hard. I was relieved.

Second, it has been requested that I cease the use of profanity in this blog, which is irritating, to say the least, because I had just started using my vast vocabulary of vulgarity. (Alliteration, it's fun)

So here's the deal. I'll keep it clean, ok, ok, I'll try to keep it clean. Now let's see you leave some comments and praise more often.