I was a student there. I was a teacher there.
I've seen a lot of things there.
For instance, I've actually seen snow fall. Yes, in Florida. Sometimes, pigs do fly.
Still, even with the occasional Florida snow flurry, it's never really enough to stick, and thus, I've never actually seen a snow day.
Inclement weather that cancels school in Florida? Hurricanes.
You wake up to find that you can't go to school that day because several trees have flown through the block, obstructing the roads, and your neighbor's roof has a satellite dish clear through it.
So you sink your lawn furniture into your pool, board up your windows, fill your bath-tub up with water, and hunker down in the largest closet located in the middle of the house with your brothers, parents, and family dog, listening for that familiar whistle caused by hurricane-induced tornadoes, which basically means you or your neighbor is about to say good-bye to your carport and/or screened-in porch.
It's not exactly restful. In fact, sometimes, it can be downright dangerous.
But snow days? Snow days are the stuff that Florida dreams are made of.
While the logical adult in me realizes that blizzard-like conditions can wreak just as much, if not more, havoc than a hurricane, I still view the occasional snow day with nostalgia.
I imagine little kids waking up in their footie pajamas to find they can't go to school that day, so they slip between their warm covers, snooze for another few hours, and then cuddle by the fire with their house-bound families, sipping cups of cocoa, and watching the white flakes falling outside their windows.
So sue me, but it seems nice. To a Floridian, anyway.
Still, that being said, I'm just not used to them closing school in the winter.
Which is why, when I watched The Weather Channel Sunday night and observed ice warnings for the our new home in the Charleston, S.C., area come Monday, I wasn't shocked.
I simply turned up our heat and went to bed.
And, when I awoke the next day, I put on an extra layer of clothes and ventured out.
Granted, I thought it was odd that the grass cracked and crunched when I walked on it. And, yes, I made fun of my dog when he lifted a paw gingerly and then startled himself while de-thawing said grass while peeing on it. I even peered bemusedly at the icicles hanging from our mailbox, rain gutters, tree branches, and neighborhood benches.
But I simply put on another layer of clothes, hopped in my car, and went to work.
The first true shock of my day was that all the trainer's offices and the room I use with my post-partum clients was closed. I'm not the first trainer in on Mondays, and I'd never found a locked door at that time.
Still, I proceeded to unlock the door and begin setting up circuit stations.
While doing so, I happened to peer over at the main area of the weight room, where I saw one lone 50-year-old man lifting weights.
It was prime time, in January, and there was one man at the gym.
Odd, I thought, but figured the dreary weather made it hard for people to get out of bed, and therefore, they weren't exercising that morning in the droves they normally were.
In walks my first client, and we get started.
Push-ups, sit-ups, wind sprints, shuffleboxes, the usual.
It's only when I realize another trainer is standing next to me, quietly waiting for a moment to interrupt me yelling, "Come on! You've only got 10 more!" that I got my first clue that something was up.
I looked over my shoulder, and he says, "Do you know if we're even supposed to be here today?"
I peered back quizzically, mentally reviewing my mental calendar, assuring myself that next Monday, not this Monday, was Martin Luther King, Jr. Day.
"Of course we are," I replied. "The holiday is next week."
He shrugged and walked away.
And I kept on working.
I was yelling at my second group of post-partum women for the day when I realized that it was past 10 a.m., and none of my bosses had so much as flicked on their office lights.
But meanwhile, I was too busy training four women and running back and forth to the bathroom getting sick (yesterday brought on another mini bout of morning sickness) to really care.
It was only when I'd worked five hours and began packing up my bags to head home that I realized no one, truly, was at work.
Half the trainers were missing. Only one soul sat at the front desk. And of the 10 fitness directors I work under, only two had even made an appearance. And only one of them had stayed.
Then, I saw the T.V. news., blaring to no one in particular, in the weight room.
"School is canceled due to ice on the roads...government buildings are closed...major roadways and all area bridges are closed...Due to unusual snowy and icy conditions, only emergency government employees need report to work today..."
And I stood there - a non-emergency employee of the government - mouth ajar.
I'd been working for five hours. Granted, a huge portion of my clients were no-shows. But I'd still been working for five hours!
I turned to the only other trainer around, slumped behind our front desk, and asked, "Are we even supposed to be open today?"
Her reply?
"I don't think so. But no one told us otherwise, and we can't get a hold of the directors."
It was only when I walked back out to my car, which had meticulously frozen over with a coating of ice and had stalactites hanging from the undercarriage all the way to the ground, that I realized why no one was at work.
Southerners are skittish about icy roads. And with good reason, as they don't know how to drive on them.
So, considering things were only getting more and more frozen throughout the day, it made sense to keep everyone off the roads and away from school and work.
Much like a Florida hurricane, you might say.
Except for the fact that I went to work.
I. Went. To. Work!
It was my first certified snow day - in 26 years of my life, it was my absolute first snow day! - and I went to work like the idiot Floridian I am.
I also proceeded to freeze my hands off breaking ice off my car for 30 minutes straight just so I could drive the five minutes home, but that's neither here nor there.
All my life, I've dreamed of skipping school/work, curling up in my footie pajamas, sipping hot cocoa by a crackling fire, and watching the flakes fall.
And instead, I spent the morning throwing medicine balls at women in a hot, sweaty gym, while my own bosses remained snug in their beds.
Argh.
This Floridian wants her darn snow day back.
***
This situation only gets worse, as I ended up back into work that afternoon to teach my cycling class because again, none of the powers-that-be could figure out if the gym was actually supposed to be closed or not.So, being that not a soul was answering their phone, and I feared leaving several die-hard clients out on the frozen cement if I didn't go to work again, I put on my big-girl, Floridian panties and my warm gloves, chipped the ice off my car once again, and went to work.
Where not another soul showed up.
Because government buildings were closed yesterday.
Argh.
***
Happy Tuesday, everyone!
