"There's Just No 'Getting Away From It All'
Chapter Twenty-Five
The following morning found the two California firefighters standing out on the freshly scooped and salted sidewalk in front of their hotel, waiting for a cab.
Kelly, who wasn't used to seeing his breath, exhaled another little white, wispy cloud and glanced up at the still overcast sky. "I haven't seen the sun shine since we left California," he realized.
"Quit complaining," Gage lightly admonished. "At least the wind's not howling and the snow's finally stopped falling."
Chet sighed. Another little fleeting exhaust fume appeared. 'I wonder if I could blow smoke rings?' he mused. The Irishman drew a deep breath in. The introduction of all that cold, crisp air into his lungs caused him to cough. Little plumes of transient steam appeared. "There's somethin' funny about the air around here..."
His friend was forced to smile. "It not funny air. It's fresh air."
"I know what it is," Kelly continued, following several cautious sniffs. "It doesn't have any...sme-ell."
Gage grinned outright. "Of course it does. You just don't recognize it. Yah know, you really should get out of the smog more...for a refreshing change."
Chet flashed his grinning chum a fake smile.
Their cab finally pulled up and the pair climbed aboard.
"Where to?" their driver inquired.
"Hertz Worldwide Reservations," Kelly informed the fellow. "US41 West."
"West? That's it? That's the address?" his traveling companion incredulously inquired.
His fellow passenger slipped a yellow piece of paper from his jacket pocket and then held the unfolded item up for inspection.
Gage stared at the Yellow Page—and its jagged edge—for a stunned moment and then shot Chet an 'I can't believe you ripped this out of the phone book' look.
The Irishman's defrosting mustache twitched and his averted eyes sparkled, mischievously.
John exhaled an amused gasp and proceeded to read the ad—aloud. "Hertz Worldwide Reservations...US41...West."
"That's all I need," their driver assured them with a slight smile. "There's only one car rental place in this whole entire area. And that's out at the airport."
Kelly gave Gage an 'I told you we should have picked our rental up when we first arrived' glare.
Which the paramedic pretended not to notice.
Gage braced himself against the dash, as Kelly—once again—slammed the brakes on their rental car. "Easy on the ribs!" the paramedic, who'd been flung forward—very hard—against his seatbelt and shoulder harness, urged.
"I can't help it! It's like trying to drive on Jello—with whipped cream topping!" his completely frazzled companion complained. "Maybe we should just get out and walk," he seriously suggested.
"Nonsense. All you need is a little practice," John reassured him. "Only, I don't wanna be in the car while you're practicing," he un-reassuringly added.
"Yeah? Well, I don' wanna be in the car while I'm practicing, either!" Chet quickly came back.
His friend was forced to smile. "Do you think you could drop me back at the hotel?...In one piece?"
Kelly cautiously edged their car out onto the snow-covered highway. Further acceleration caused the vehicle to fishtail—wildly. Chet jerked the steering wheel from side to side, frantically trying to straighten its trajectory. Failing that, and fearing a collision with oncoming traffic, he hit the brakes—hard. The car skidded sideways...off the road...and into a snowbank. Its ashen driver turned to its even paler passenger and pondered, "How many chances do I get?"
His shaken chum couldn't help but chuckle. The paramedic released his two-fisted grip on the dash and reached for the back of his hyper-flexed neck. "Do that again," he started, calmly, "and I'm gonna sue you for whiplash!" he finished, a bit more frenetically.
"Sorry," Kelly sheepishly said. "You sure you don't wanna drive?"
"Nah. You won the toss—fair an' square," Gage conceded.
The toss had been neither fair nor square. Chet had wanted to drive so badly, he'd actually cheated. Now, there he was—driving so badly. 'They say: Be careful what you wish for,' he glumly mused. He released the brake pedal and reluctantly returned to the roadway. 'This is just downright scary! I have absolutely no control over this car!' he silently realized and then wondered, right out loud, "How do people ever get around up here?"
John aimed a wry smile out his window. "Easy, Chet," he calmly replied. "They practice."
While Kelly practiced the day away, his companion visited the various stores that were within walking distance of their hotel. John managed to pick up a few more rolls of 35MM film, some souvenirs of the Upper Peninsula, and a cute and cuddly little stuffed moose—which he planned to present to Stacey, when she picked them up at the airport.
After another delicious meal in the Settler's Dining Room, the two 'stuffed to the gills' guys decided to walk off their dessert.
They ended up in the Marquette City Park, just before dark. The park was situated on a hillside and a rather large number of neighborhood kids were snow-coaster'ing and sledding down its slippery slopes.
Seeing all the fun they were having, Chester B. was inspired to build a snowman. The snow was of the correct consistency and John was recruited to help him roll the unbelievably heavy, wet balls into 'snowman body parts'.
The kids contributed a pair of 'broken branch arms'.
One child, who must have lived particularly close by, even provided them with a 'nose carrot', a 'ribbon mouth', and a couple of 'Oreo cookie eyes' for the head ball—which they had to give one of the older boys a 'hoist up' to install.
It was slow-going, on account of all the intermittent snowball fights, but Kelly's creation was, at last, completed—all ten feet of it—er, him.
Almost as if on cue, the park's dusk-to-dawn lights began to flicker on.
Gage stared thoughtfully up at the enormous—now illuminated—object and commented that it looked more like a snowmonster than a snowman.
Kelly didn't care. In spite of being sweat-soaked and sore, a smile of deep satisfaction crept across the Irishman's frosted face. The experience had been both exhilarating and exhausting. He would certainly sleep soundly that night.
The now rapidly-chilling Californians bid their fellow snowball combatants farewell and began trudging off towards their hotel.
The two men resolved to return to the park the following afternoon, for some photos. Hopefully, they would find their big, snowy buddy still standing.
TBC