I don’t know what it is about Mother Nature.
She always seems to find me in the most inconvenient situations.
It isn’t very often I get to win two front-row tickets to the Boston Bruins. Matter of fact, it’s the only prize I can recall worth taking. The prize handed out before mine in the Christmas parade raffle was a membership to the YMCA.
Redundant. I’m already a member and would feel mercenary if I didn’t shell out my annual fee, given the mission it portrays to my community.
The prize that followed mine was a season’s lift ticket to a ski resort. Nice, if you ski. I would let this prize “slide.”
Bruins tickets were truly the coup de grace. We would travel to Boston, take in the game, then enjoy a quiet dinner in the North End. Might as well make it a package deal and maybe throw in a couple trinkets for the grandkids.
Well, good intentions sometimes backfire. We happened to get hit with a monster snowstorm, causing a funeral to be postponed until the next day, thereby conflicting with the game.
“Can you use a couple Bruins tickets?” I lamented to a friend, looking to pass them off.
“You kidding? Would love them.”
It isn’t the first time Mother Nature has raised havoc with me. You may recall my first and only trip up Mount Katahdin in my quest to hike the tallest mountain in Maine. What started out as a relatively mild day turned into a nightmare on the summit.
We got hit with the whole bag — rain, wind, hail and finally snow. There was no escaping the severe elements. The trail turned to ice as we made our way downhill and finally maneuvered below the tree line, where we spent the night sitting on rocks — stranded on a mountain while the rangers had a fit below.