This will be me in two days

The station will close for the winter at the end of the month and those distinguished few left behind won’t see another plane or new face or Netflix movie for six long dark months. I’ve done it once before, Winter ‘06, and learned that while it wasn’t nearly the Overlook Hotel hell that some of my friends back home predicted it would be, it wasn’t quite as edifying as I’d hoped either. I didn’t use my six month confinement to learn calculus or paint watercolors as planned. But I did, however, develop a mean shuffleboard game and finished reading entire sections of the Internet in my spare time.

And due to my failure to actively participate in Internet until recently, I wasn’t able to chronicle my descent into madness in real time. As the months wore on and the lack of sunlight stripped away my ability to conjure phrases like “irreversible brain damage”, I still managed to enjoy the camaraderie of my fellow pale and slow-witted winter-overs. There is something to be said for the winter-over experience, but I think I forgot what that is exactly.

Anyway, I’m looking forward to never doing that again but my hat’s off to those of you that are sticking it out, including my good friend and former roommate, Sandwich. A toast: May your freshies last until Easter and your DVD collection be bountiful. And some tips: Scope out the good players and assemble your bowling team early cause no amount of brain atrophy will dampen the humiliation of coming in last in the Toilet Bowl. I’m talking to you, Flock of Skuas.

As for me, I’m mere dozens of hours away from beautiful Christchurch, New Zealand where nature will put on obscene displays of all manner of flora and domesticated fauna. Botanical garden lawn: I can’t wait to lay on you. Fresh beer: I can’t wait to drink you. Kittens and puppies: you have been warned.