My fancy clothes require adequate protection from the elements. I work in a hospital, sporting shiny shoes and dapper ties on a near-daily basis. Scrubs are my only occasional respite from the world of cuffs and collars. My Sunday best, however, is no match for winter's worst. As such, I layer up each morning for the commute. I am meticulous- zipping on my waterproof pants, tucking my crisp white cuffs into my mud-stained gloves, and donning a thin but warm hat that fits snugly under my helmet.
As I churn my way out the driveway on my jimmy-rigged single-speed into the slush filled streets, I feel the cold water flick onto my legs, my back, my face. My argyle socks and leather shoes are not spared the onslaught of winter's piss and spit, but the rest of me arrives warm and dry at the Emergency Room. I strip out of my "wet" suit, and emerge like Superman switching back to Clark Kent after soaring through the skies. I am indistinguishable from every other employee of this hospital who drove to work in their heated cars with windshield wipers and cupholders. We all arived safely, ready to tend to the needs of whatever patients may walk through the door, but I had more fun getting here.
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