Night Bus Ride With A Weird Couple
- 1 year ago
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Tuktoyaktuk free porn video
I hate the wind. I hate the the cold. I probably shouldn't have moved to
Tuktoyaktuk. But they'd built a new road. One that connected this town
on a peninsula sticking out into the Arctic Ocean with the rest of Canada.
And somehow it seemed to me that this road would make things easier.
Would turn Tuktoyaktuk into a nice adventure for a guy in his 30's with
nothing to go home to.
Roads, let me tell you, do not hold back wind. They do not stave off
cold. I should have stayed in Vancouver.
I came up in November when the road was brand-new with all of my things in
the back of my Subaru. But it was already late-December when I realized
my mistake, and I didn't think my little Subaru would make it all the way
back to British Columbia, so I figured I'd hole up for one winter and then
drive back down.
How did the Inuit folk live here? My Squamish ass certainly couldn't.
I bought a little space heater for my cabin, well I call it a cabin but it
was just a little pre-fab thing about one and a half notches better than a
trailer, but I bought a space heater for it, and resolved to be inside as
much as possible.
Fortunately I'd brought my stash up with me, and I'd brought enough to get
me through the winter.
Hey, don't look at me like that, it's just weed. It's not like it's
opiates or something. Have you *seen* downtown Vancouver? I am not, nor
have I ever been, nor will I ever be, hooked on that junk.
But pot helps keep you warm inside. So as a few of the local kids shot
off fireworks to end the month of December and start up the year of 2018,
I was wrapped in blankets on my sofa, blowing smoke into the air.
I'd have to be a different person next year. A better person. The kind
of person who doesn't run away from their problems. I literally ran to
the ends of the Earth, and here I was: stoned and alone in the middle of
nowhere. This couldn't be the life I was meant for, could it?
I sat there staring at my front door, letting my eyes lose focus. After a
while I wasn't sure whether or not my eyes were still open. Was I awake?
I pulled my blankets closer around me. There seemed to be more material.
Maybe I'd moved and got it loose.
I woke up at some point. I want to say "in the morning," but the term
"morning" becomes meaningless when it's winter in the Arctic and the sun
never rises.
I stumbled off the sofa and switched on the light. Too warm. I shrugged
off the blankets and left them on the floor as I walked to the fridge. I
grabbed a Coke and sat back down on the sofa in my sweatpants and T-shirt.
There's nothing to do in this town. I refilled my pipe and lit it up. No
sense staying sober.
I coughed.
Why was I smoking? Why was the cabin full of... of these *fumes*?
Without thinking, I opened a window and a gust of frigid arctic air blew
over my face. There was a moment of shock, but then I welcomed it. It
felt familiar. I closed my eyes and breathed in the cold air, let it fill
my lungs. It felt clean.
I sat back down on the sofa and let the outside air push out the smoke and
the smells that had entered my home, and looked at the weather app on my
phone. It was -25C outside. That open window should be giving me
frostbite, or at least making it hard to breathe. But it seemed to just
rejuvenate me.
I looked down at what I was wearing: a tank top and a pair of skinny
jeans. My brown arms and chest were totally exposed. It wasn't even
slightly sub-zero attire.
But all I wanted to do was close my eyes, close my mouth, and suck in more
air through my nostrils as the wind blew my hair all over my face.
I brushed my hair back with my fingers and gathered it all at the nape of
my neck, tied it back with the scrunchie that I wore on my wrist. That
felt better.
I kicked off my house slippers and let my feet touch the immitation-wood
flooring. No, that wasn't enough. I needed my feet to touch the ground.
The *real* ground.
I threw open my front door, dashed through the arctic entryway, not caring
that I was just wearing a flimsy baby blue camisole top over a pair of
black leggings. The snow felt good against my feet. The howling wind
caressed my body. I threw my arms out and spun around in the darkness.
Someone drove by in a big old F-250 and flashed their lights as they
passed me, as if to say "are you alright?" I waved them on, though I
couldn't see into the cabin to tell how they reacted. I followed the red
tail lights fading into the distance, wiggling my toes to dig through the
snow and get to the soil. Soon the truck turned a corner, and my toes
were scratching at permafrost.
It wasn't enough. I was still protected by the confines of the town. No,
"protected" wasn't the right word. Inhibited. This outpost of humanity
was blocking me from joining the wind.
I ran. Past the airport. Past the refinery. Down the brand-new highway.
I'd never run this fast before. Maybe the wind was pushing me. The
highway curved around some lakes. But they were frozen. I just ran
across them. I kept running, kept breathing, letting the wind inside of
me, letting it permeate my lungs, my veins, this pure northern air.
The farther I ran, the warmer I felt. The steam that left my mouth with
each breath became thicker and thicker, until finally I couldn't take it.
I pulled off my camisole and threw it into the air, trusting the wind to
know what to do with it. I leapt over a snowdrift and turned into a
somersault, pulling my leggings off as I spun in the air. This was not a
feat of athleticism I'd ever been able to do before.
I landed on my knees, but I rolled forward and kept going. I didn't care
that I was streaking through the night in just bra and panties.
That's not true. I did care. They were confining. Constricting. Too
hot. I pulled them off, too.
I came to another frozen lake, larger the ones I'd seen so far. Out on
the edge of the horizon, I could see a faint glow. The sun, due south.
It was just threatening the horizon, letting the beginnings of dawn flit
through the sky. But it was only an idle threat, one that the sun would
not make good on for another few months.
I lifted my head to face the glow and let another rush of wind fill my
lungs. Then I leapt forward, arms outstretched, onto the frozen lake.
The snow and ice before me melted away, dispatched by the heat that was
still emanating from my body, and I landed on a slick layer of water. I
slid forward, the icy touch soothing on my belly, the cold comfort
reaching deep into that great factory of life, that space within me where
children can be formed, as the wind continued to massage my back, to push
my shoulders, to drive me forward into the middle of the lake.
And then it stopped. The wind just wasn't pushing anymore and I slowed
down until I stopped somewhere near the center of the ice. Only then did
I realize I'd been giggling, cackling, screaming the whole time that I
slid. The wind was barely in my lungs at all. So I took a deep breath.
Then I flipped myself onto my back, and took some more deep breathes.
There I was, truly, utterly in the middle of nowhere, a single speck of
humanity isolated within a vast stretch of wilderness. My arms and legs
stretched out, I was completely vulnerable to the wind and the cold. But
neither consumed me.
I just lay there breathing in and breathing out, surrounding myself,
filling myself with the wind, with the cold, inviting them inside me and
knowing they would treat me with care.
Eventually I fell asleep.
I woke up to a knock on my door. I was back in my cabin, on my sofa,
covered in blankets. I stood up, wrapped in a blanket. There was still a
lingering warmth inside of me, but for modesty's sake I figured I should
cover myself before I turned on the light and opened the door.
Light spilled out into the arctic entryway, illuminating the face before
me.
"Dad?"
"Sweetie, Princess, are you alright?"
I furrowed my brow and shook my head slightly. "I'm fine. I'm doing
great."
"It's just, Ahnah and Don saw you dancing outside with almost nothing on
this morning. I know you spent the summer in Vancouver where people don't
have to wear clothes, but you're back in Tuk now, back home. And you have
to be careful with the cold."
"I know, Dad." A different warmth began to fill me. A warmth that came
from family.
"Just promise me you'll at least wear a coat next time."
"Dad, I'm an adult!"
"Calm an old man's nerves?"
Guilt. "Alright, alright, I'll dress warmer."
"And you'll come to dinner tonight, too. First dinner of the year, you
spend with your family."
I let out a sigh and smiled. "What time?"
"Seven. That gives you two whole hours to put on some real clothes."
He turned to leave and I closed the door behind him, rolling my eyes.
Sometimes my dad could be a little much, But there was one thing he was
right about. I was back in Tuk, and I was back home.
---------
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