I arrived early in the morning, too early for the sun to show it’s face. I wasn’t sure what all I should pack, but by a quick look around the room it was apparent that I was just as prepared as everyone else. Everyone, including myself, had already bundled up beyond recognition. The only one who really stood out was the man, and I could only tell he was a man from his voice, shouting out instructions. I suddenly became aware that I was late. I promptly made it over check in desk, and then moved in with the small crowd listening to our guide. I didn’t hear anything I hadn’t heard before, but I listened regardless because they were the last words I’d hear until we came back, as the wind was supposed to be howling.
We set out shortly after. A guide rope had been man-handled down the line until it was placed into my palm to hook onto my belt, so none of us got separated. Or if someone did, then at least the person ahead of them would know so they could cut the rope, because the person behind them would have disappeared into the blizzard. Luckily for me, there were a hand full that were still behind me in my line. It was common knowledge that the farther back in the line you were, the more likely you were to disappear. I wasn’t going to let the law of probability scare me, but I decided to stay close to whoever it was in front of me just in case.
We had made good progress in the first leg of the trip. There wasn’t much to look at, as everything was blinding white. It was safer to look at the person in front of you, because their snowsuits were the only color in the area. And this is what I had settled down into doing. I had to keep close as it was, so I might as well make the best of it. However it wasn’t long before I became bored of looking at the back of the walking red snowsuit in front of me. I started imagining what the human inside the suit did besides go on ridiculously overpriced sight-seeing journeys. I didn’t have much to go by besides the way the suit moved. It might have been the wintery atmosphere but I had decided that I was walking behind an Olympic gold medalist in figure skating. The way the legs and feet moved so smoothly, it was as if they just glided right over the snow without leaving a hint of a footstep behind. I had imagined a whole routine in the time we traversed.
Once the wind died down, a new color invaded my vision which meant we were getting very close. The overwhelming darkness was just as hard to look at as the piercing snow before. Luckily for me, the red snowsuit still stood out. As soon as we got a chance to take off our masks and scarves, I was decided I’d get an autograph and give it to my mother. She had a thing for Russian figure skaters. Something about their big, hulky stature. Might even leave my father if one ever showed up on the doorstep.
I didn’t realize that we had stopped until I crashed into the Russian. Luckily I didn’t topple over because the handful behind me had been paying attention and the rope went taunt. As I backed away from the crash site, I looked up to see a smile from behind the mask and a finger pointed up to the sky. Past the gesture, I noticed a wave of the people in my tour lift the visor from their masks and I instinctively did the same. I didn’t fully realize that we had arrived until I saw the sight we paid so much to see. The Aurora Borealis was right in front of us, and it was worth every step and trudge through the snow. My mouth has slackened just a tad; enough for it to cause a faint giggle. I turn and face the red snowsuit, with my jaw still sleep on the job. It resumes its work ethic, with a smile. And all this time I thought the Russian was meant hold medals in Vancouver, high in the air. I didn’t know that she was meant to hold my hand, here.