A walk gone wrong. So, so wrong.

One of my roommates takes a walk every day during work. She said it's the one thing during her work day she looks most forward to. She pops in those headphones, clears her head, breathes the fresh fall air, and serenely takes in her surroundings. To me, that sounds so serene, like it would be a welcome and refreshing treat in the midst of the never-changing daily grind. So I decided to try it. 

It's Monday afternoon. I've had a fairly productive morning, a quick lunch at my desk, and another good solid two hours of work. I'm ready for a lovely walk to the river and back - maybe 25 minutes, tops. I put on my coat, slide my key card and my iPod into my pocket, and a little knowing smirk appears on my face because the serenity I am about to experience is going to change my whole day. Look at those suckers typing away in their cubicles. If only they could have ideas as good as mine! 

Well.

I walked down the stairs and flung the front doors open. I got halfway down the block and took a deep breath in......and smelled one of the most rank, atrocious rotten-egg smells ever to grace a metro area. The sewer smell accompanied me, hanging right underneath my nose, for the duration of the miserably-scented walk. And what I envisioned to be a beautiful, nippy fall day turned out to be much more nip than beauty. My hair violently whipped around my head, slapping my face and eyes that were already weeping bitter tears from the cold air that was attempting to freeze my eye sockets into painful slits hosting two frozen ice balls. My ears felt like they were cryogenically frozen and then slowly chipped away at by a rusty, jagged pick. There was no life in sight except for one unmoving homeless man and an albino, fleshy pigeon with diseased, bulbous claws. By the time I actually reached the river, the city stench and the unforgiving temperature was so unbearable that I started sprinting back to the office, scowling at people in their warm, cozy cars and dreaming of the day I would be reunited with my little cubicle.

As my sprint neared its end, I thrust my body into the building and stood there for a moment, letting my skin thaw and heart rate slow down. As I ascended the round staircase that would lead me toward my little newsroom cubby  hole, my ears reached that point in the thawing process where they feel like they're on fire: not Icy Hot style, burning flesh style. It was good to be home.