Heat Stroke of Genius
Lessons I Learned in Extremis (or Crazy thinks I do in extreme heat!)
I get a bit crazy in extreme weather. I simply don’t like to be uncomfortable. The older, I mean wiser, I get, the more I appreciate 19 C; that is what I consider the perfect temperature where I am my best self. My best sleeper, my best mood, my best vibrant, joyful and vivacious self. Many who have experienced me when I am way too hot or way too cold can back me up on this. They also like me better at 19 C.
As proof of how delirious I can get in extreme weather, allow me to share with you the story of a visit I had at Canada’s Wonderland back a few years ago. It begins with, “It was about 35 C and over 40 C with the humidex.” (95 F and 104 F)
Canada’s Wonderland, near Toronto
At the time, I was working full time as a High School Drama Teacher and I was Head of the Creative Arts Department. The Music Teacher Joel had arranged for his Band to perform at Wonderland where they would be professionally adjudicated. After the performance, the band would be rewarded with the rest of the afternoon to go on all the rides and see the sights. In the morning of the field trip, the Music teacher came to me in a panic. School District rules dictated that two teachers were required on the bus to supervise the students. However, his second supervisor backed out. Being the whipper-snipper problem solver that I am, I volunteered to drop everything and attend as the second supervisor, provided I could quickly find someone to cover my classes for the day. The Science Department Head owed me a big favour and I ran upstairs to cash it in. I now had coverage for my classes and was good to go.
After rushing around and finishing all the details of emergency lesson plans, I found myself loading the band instruments on the bus and we were off to Toronto. All was well as the wheels on the bus went round and round until I realized I had forgotten to grab my wallet in my haste to leave. This was over a decade ago when we didn’t just tap our phones to pay for items on Apple Pay. We didn’t even have a tap feature yet on our interact and credit cards. No wallet meant, no money for me to buy myself some lunch.
“Hey, Joel! I just realized I forgot my wallet. Can you spot me at lunch today?”
“Sure, man”, came the quick reply.
Side note: Our Music teacher is a smooth, never-hurrying-Jazz-musician who often says “sure, man” to me even though I am a woman.
Did I mention it was a HOT day? About 35 C with a humidex over 40 C! Okay, so I told you at the onset but I am known to repeat myself when I really want to emphasize something. Upon arrival, the band was escorted to a tent near Wonderland’s Kingswood Music Theatre where they would perform and receive their adjudication. I don’t know how they did it. It was even hotter in the tent! I made an excuse that I should watch Joel’s nine-year-old twin boys while he conducted the band. I was more than happy to entertain them OUTSIDE the tent.
By the time the band marched out of the tent (I couldn’t resist the pun), I was pretty hungry for lunch and I was glad the twins started whining that they were hungry too. We selected a sandwich place and I eyed the billboard to select the least expensive item on the menu because I did not want to impose upon Joel too much. I also decided not to ask for a drink to save money. He only had cash with him, so I wanted him to have money left over to buy the boys treats if he wanted.
As soon as lunch was inhaled, the boys started nagging their dad to take them to the rides. They had waited all morning and now their patience was spent. I was so overheated that standing in line under the June sun and going on rides was the last thing I felt like doing so I told them to go ahead without me. I pictured myself, planted in the shade by the entrance waterfall and cooling off.
As I started toward the waterfall, I realized I was getting quite thirsty. Actually, really, really thirsty. I needed a drink. Joel, my money-source, was long gone, and my pride prevented me from asking a student for money if they walked my way. The first step in my mission would be to find the cheapest drink available at the park. I entered the first kiosk and asked how much a bottle of Coke was.
$2.00 Yikes. Seemed like a lot.
Then I inquired about a bottle of water.
$2.00 Really? They don’t even have to make it. Just pour it in a bottle and sell it.
I decided that place was overpriced and slogged over to another one on the other side of the park where I also asked how much for a bottle of coke.
$2.00 Oh.
And, just in case, I asked how much for a bottle of water.
You know the answer.
Okay, it’s all going to be the same. Wonderland was on to bargain hunters like me.
I now had the price. Stage two of the mission would be to find the money. And as luck would have it, just as I developed the stage two plan, about five feet ahead was a quarter on the ground! This was a sign! The money gods favoured me today and they would provide me with more quarters, or nickels or dimes, even pennies as required. (Special note to my young readers: There was a time, not so long ago, when one cent was actually manifested in a tangible form called a penny. Canadians used these copper coloured coins commonly. It was not unusual to find a penny. I wager many of you youngn’s have never seen one). I nabbed the quarter before anyone else saw it.
Scanning the immediate area for fallen silver, and seeing nothing, I had to brainstorm where the precious d’argent would be. Perhaps some coins could be found near a restaurant check out? I sauntered in a Starbucks Coffee Shop and shuffled over to the till area. Sure enough! There was another quarter by the checkout! I pretended to be contemplating the chocolate-covered coffee beans while I waited for the customer standing over the quarter to leave. Then I swooped down, ever so smoothly, like it was normal for everyone to pick stuff up off the floor. Got it.
25x2= 50 cents!
The optimism of my continued success propelled me into a state of welcomed challenge. I felt my energy crescendo (a music term for the band grads who might be reading this, gotta keep your readers interested, you know) as I found more and more nickels, dimes and pennies. No loonies or toonies in sight but I think I would have been disappointed to find one because it would end the challenge prematurely.
5+10+10+1+1+25+25…. Now at $1.57. Getting so close! Getting so hot! Getting so parched!
Lord have mercy! So close and I couldn’t think of anywhere else to look. I had been to every coffee shop, pizza stand, ice cream booth, hamburger joint and some of them more than once to double check. I was dizzy from the heat and if I didn’t have a drink soon, I would end up in the Park’s infirmary (I did have a thought that if I fainted and ended up there, they would give me water for free). Several times, I passed by some of our Music students whose pockets were probably full of coins, but I smiled, waved and told them to keep having a good time.
A map of Canada’s Wonderland, for reference. That is a LOT of scavenging for coins.
I started to think about how I had not peed all day (I know, it’s too much information, but worth it for the sake of the story) which meant I was getting really dehydrated, when I realized I had not checked out the washroom areas yet! Nothing in there, but outside the washrooms were stacks of lockers for those who wanted to store bathing suits or backpacks.
LANDMINE! The lockers were coin operated and lots of “rich”, fully hydrated folks didn’t apparently care if they dropped a coin or two when purchasing the use of a locker. I found three dimes, two nickels and two pennies! I now had the $2.00 I needed! See, you should never give up!
I know some of you smart Denver Cowans* out there, have read the story carefully so far and my last tally was $1.57. The amount I just reported sums to 42 cents which does not, indeed, add up to $2.00. A desperate re-count determined that I had miscalculated and I had $1.58, not $1.57, before the cassino locker fiasco.
* See definition of a Denver Cowan in the Addendum below
Last stage of the mission. Find the vendor with the coldest Coke. I was not going to spend my precious money on boring water, especially if they were the same price. I was going to treat myself to the extravagance of a Coca Cola. I found a vendor who had the bottled beverages soaking in a barrel of ice. Mission accomplished. The vendor had now been selected.
To avoid embarrassment, I figured I had better sit down and triple count my coins. I counted the silver first and when I came to the copper, I had to stop. You see, several years prior, I had made a pact with myself that whenever I found a penny, I wasn’t allowed to pocket it until I stopped everything I was doing and took a moment to think of something for which I was grateful. Thus, the lucky penny would have meaning. As I added up the pennies I found throughout the concrete fields of this theme park, I stopped with each one and thought of something I was thankful for:
my health
the opportunity to teach awesome students
to work with awesome colleagues like Joel
the makers of Coca-Cola
my extended family
beautiful, faithful friends
Canada and the freedoms it affords me
my supportive parents
my brothers and my sisters by choice
my healthy, charming children
Now, I was bawling. (Refer back to the beginning of the story where I warned you that I get crazy in extreme temperatures).
I considered myself to be the luckiest woman in the world. I felt so grateful for the wonderful life I enjoy. I couldn’t stop the happy tears from flowing down my face. And now I couldn’t go up and buy the Coke when I was crying. Wait! Yes, I could! I determined that the clerk would not be able to tell if I was crying or just sweating profusely (from my eyes).
As classily as a dehydrated and exhausted middle aged woman can walk, I swaggered up to the counter to purchase the Coke.
“One Coke, please.”
Ooh, it felt so good to say it; it was like a declaration of victory.
I dug into all my pockets and spilled my bounty of coins all over the counter like a kid at a candy store. The man, with his pointer finger, started counting the coins as I held my breath. What if I had miscounted and was short? Would he be a generous man and let me have the Coke if I was a penny short? Would it help my cause if I put a more desperate look on my face? After all, I was a Drama teacher.
$1.50-$1.75-$1.80-$1.90 -91-92-93-94-95-96-97-98-99…
$2.00. Whew.
I didn’t care what the man thought of me. I reached into the bucket of ice, deep, past my elbow. I didn’t want any recent bottles that were floating on top; I wanted the first Coke that was placed in the bucket. The first Coke that had been in there the longest. I simply wanted the COLDEST COKE.
You probably think this is the end of the story. And the lesson. I worked hard. I had perseverance. I endured the hardship of the heat. Because of these qualities, I reaped the reward.
No. The lesson was yet to come.
I was not going to guzzle the Coke right there at the Vendor booth. I was going to pass the Marshmallow Test and I was going to walk over to the entrance waterfalls and sit down to appreciate the drink and the struggle I overcame to get it.
Sitting down in the shade on the stone ledge in view of the water, I savoured the sound of the fizz escaping from the bottle’s cap. As I raised the Coke to my lips, I stopped.
There was a penny, a foot away from my shoe.
Out loud to anyone who was in earshot I said,
“That goes to show. The universe has always given me more than I need”.
ADDENDUM:
I know you have been wondering what a Denver Cowan is. He is a former student of mine who we all have to call Dr. Cowan because he earned his PhD in Engineering. He competed on my Improv Team. At one tournament, they announced the performance scores which placed our school’s team in second place. To Denver, it didn’t feel right.
“Miss. It’s wrong. The math is wrong. We won”.
The team all huddled around Denver to determine if we all agreed before issuing a formal complaint.
“Miss, what are we going to do?”
“If Denver says the math is wrong, it’s wrong. I will tell the referee”.
And we won Gold.
Thus in the above story, I referred to smart math gurus as “Denver Cowans”.
Also, in case you are wondering, the Canada’s Wonderland story actually happened. And for the American readers, the teacher did not spell “theatre” incorrectly. That’s how we do it up here. And in England.
