The sage (. ) of The Urban Viking & Other Oxymorons...

Tusen takk for ingenting.

It’s chilly here. The Easterly Manhattan wind is wreaking havoc on my already dry, scaly skin. And there I was, walking the streets of NYC with my Nordic buddy, who I have jokingly called “Two Farms” for many years.

Having grown up in Ohio, I should be used to cold weather. I should maybe even enjoy it. And I do- usually. I survived the Great Dayton Blizzard as a kid. I was made of tough stuff, right? And wanting to represent my roots as a hearty, intrepid Midwesterner, I braved the wind and cold as we made our way between lots of scaffolding, the blustery nips, impatient vehicles (at least the drivers were warm), and fellow pedestrians. With lips stinging, and eyes watering, I thought, “C’mon…just a few blocks more… we’ll be at the restaurant and all will be well. Besides, you want to be able to keep up with Two Farms, right? He’s a decedent of Vikings!”

You see, Two Farms grew up in Norway, so he should also have been used to the cold. No bit of wind or low temperatures would stop him from getting to our destination.

In the blessed shelter of one of the many tall buildings of the Big Apple, and while we were waiting for the light to turn green at a crosswalk, I ventured a look to see if I could visually glean just a bit of wisdom from a native Scandinavian, whose home country is known for its sometimes absolute and brutal cold seasons. It was my hope that I could quickly learn some stalwart tactics of how to defeat the cold. There just had to be techniques that this ignoramus - that’d be me- (of chilly weather) could use.

I found out- and quickly- that my Viking ‘venn’ was having NONE of this cold weather. Not. One. Iota.

"I (expletive) hate this (expletive) (expletive) cold weather!"

Did my ears deceive me, perhaps? There was nothing- I mean, nothing- forthcoming. Except for frowns and bad words. (Two Farms may have ESL, but his command of bad words is impressive.)

Okay, I had to get to the bottom of this. Something isn't adding up here...

Me- But you are a Viking, aren't you? This should be child's play for you.

Two Farms- What?! No- ay! (Expletive!- because a gust of wind hits him in the face.) Sheena Felece, I live in a city, not the forest. I want to be (expletive) warm.

Me- But what about your ancestors? They did it, right? C'mon, don't tell me that you've abandoned your heritage. Their blood still runs through your veins.

Two Farms- They lived (expletive) years ago. I learned that history (expletive) in grammar school. I like the sun. I want to be warm. What the (expletive) is this weather?

A long pause.

Me- Wow... Well, you do your ancestors proud.

My apparent sarcasm is not lost on him, as he hazards a turn in my direction to frown crossly at me.

Me- Just sayin’. And I offer a wink.

We continued our walk, and upon reaching our destination, the frowns and bad words, to some extent, abate. Because Two Farms is now warm. And he has a beer. I would remain woefully ignorant of the mastery of survival in the cold. And me, being me, just had to pay him back.

Me- So, you are an oxymoron, then.

Two Farms- Huh? Are you calling me a name? Something (expletive) insulting? Shame...

Me- Oh no, I'd never... but instead of Two Farms, I'm going to call you Urban Viking. You deserve it.

Two Farms- A giggle. The beer must be taking affect. That's an oxy... oxy...

Me- moron, Moron. Like Free Gift, or... lemme think... Useful Idiot. Got it?

The light of understanding hits, and I am given another giggle.

Two Farms- That is a good one, Fish.

(It's a nickname he's used for me for years. I am a Pisces.)

We toast- my glass of bubbly to his beer. Skål!

(Cold-1, Sheena Felece/Fish- 0)