Snowstorm in New York

 

They’re on holidays in New York for Christmas and to see in the New Year. They’re lucky enough to be staying with friends in Brooklyn and even luckier to have a hostess who is a travel writer.

Each morning she asks, “Where would you like to go today?”

“The Lower East Side.”

“Perfect. Be sure to see the Tenement Museum now that you’ve already been to Ellis Island, and then go to …”

And then the snow comes—the worst storm in fifty years. They’re from Edmonton, one of Canada’s northern cities. A little snow isn’t going to stop them.

They head to the subway, step off the curb and are instantly ankle deep in the water that’s hidden under the snow, feet soaked and cold. Not to worry. They have extra socks in their bag having followed the advice of their hostess.

They help push cars out of snowbanks. They help little old ladies clamber over the huge piles of snow deposited by the plows at the side of the road. At home this would be frustrating, but on holiday in New York it’s an adventure.

They wait at the bus stop to go to their next destination. He looks pointedly at his watch as the bus pulls up. The door opens. “Aren’t you late?” he asks.

The driver, a huge imposing black man, scowls as he rises from his seat. He is not amused.

“Hey,” he says. “I drive in northern Canada.”

The driver’s ire melts away. He grins and offers a high five as they board.

Menopause Attacks Husband

 

She walked into the office for her performance review. “Is it hot in here, boss? Or am I menopausal again?”

He laughed. “That reminds me,” he said. “Friends were over for dinner the other night. Tom told us that he woke up one morning with his face wet and cold. Sure he was dying of some rare and, as yet unknown, disease; he collapsed back on the pillow in despair.”

That didn’t sound good, but the boss had laughed. She knew him to be a kind and considerate man. Surely he hadn’t kept a sarcastic callous side hidden all these years.

“What on earth was it?” she asked.

“His wife is menopausal and had left the window on his side of the bed open. During the storm that night, snow blew in the window and melted on his face.”

When she finished laughing, he asked, “Would you like me to turn down the heat?”

“Yes, please.”

“Oh, by the way,” he said. “Please tell me the bedroom window is on your side of the bed.”

She nodded.

“Good.”