When he got to the edge of the parking lot, Josh stepped into the fresh snow around the edge of the lake. He sunk in the snow up to the top of his knees.
I followed. In silence.
I stepped into the fresh snow and sunk up to the top of my leg. I lifted my second foot and took another step into the fresh snow. I was now standing in snow to the tops of both my legs.
Josh continued, steadily moving farther and farther away from me.
I tried to lift one of my feet to take another step. I was completely stuck. I couldn’t move. I tried again. In the effort, I lost my balance and fell flat on my back.
It was at that moment that it all became clear to me. I was going to die on this ice fishing trip. I had driven 3 ½ hours in order to freeze to death. I would never see Gord, or my daughters, again. Josh would get all the way to the fishing shack before he noticed that I was not behind him. In fact, knowing Josh, he might even fish for an hour or two before he noticed I was missing.
After he fished, he would return to his truck. By then, I would be buried under a pile of snow that had blown on top of me. Hopefully, he would find me. He would probably put me in the box of the truck, because I would be too frozen to bend onto the seat. It felt very undignified. He would drive me home to my family. And when he handed my frozen body over to Gord, he would say, “It’s too bad, I always thought your wife was a little tougher, Gord.”
Poor Gord. And my children…
Such a tragedy.
And why? All because I was too proud to tell my friend the truth about me – I really am a Whiner. I hate being cold. I didn’t want to walk through the deep snow to the ice fishing shack. I didn’t want to ice fish. I didn’t even want to eat fish. I like chicken.
As I lay there bent over backwards with my legs stuck in the deep snow, I wanted only one thing. I wanted to whine.
Continue to find out how the fishing trip ends.