starstruck

ave you ever wondered what the stars look like over Tim Horton's?
   Earlier this week Mark was playing hockey so I dropped him off at the rink and headed to Timmy's for a hot beverage since I had neglected to make tea before his game and a Warm Something is an Absolute Necessity for watching hockey.  It was around 9 pm and not a soul was in the drive-thru lineup.  Joy!  I didn't think I'd ever seen such a beautiful thing so I whizzed up to the box and relayed my order - an extra large decaf, one quarter English Toffee.  I quickly discovered my window had frozen shut (not an uncommon thing to happen in the north although every other window in the truck zipped up and down happily) which meant I had to open my door in the drive-thru to give my order.  A little silly but whatevs.  It was cold and I had the heat blazing full-tilt and couldn't hear what the Timmy's girl said to me.  It was a bit like decmmmf wmfff mmmm mfffeee?  I turned off the heat and asked her to repeat everything in between opening the truck door further and lesser as needed with the heat fleeing into the arctic and the arctic fleeing into me.  All sorted out I drove to the pickup window when I realized I hadn't brought any cash.  This meant not only did I have to open my door to get my coffee but I also had to step outside and stand in front of the drive-thru window and use my debit card.  Which is ridiculous!  Especially because there was no line within Tim's and warmth abundant with people laughing over hot chocolate and muffins and forgetting they lived in a deep freezer world.  The Timmy's girl handed me my coffee and receipt into flash-frozen fingers and I put them into the truck through a series of shuffles and openings and clutchings and closings.  It was then I noticed how particularly icy it was.  I noticed this because I began to fall and not just any fall.  So spectacular was the descent of this fall that I had time to think about things on the way down. 
   Thought 1:  I won't fall.
   Thought 2:  I'm falling but I'll just grab onto my truck door, no problem.
   Thought 3:  Hmmm, that didn't work.
   Thought 4:  I'm really falling!
   Thought 5:  I'm flying!
   Thought 6:  My feet are higher than my head!
   Thought 7:  Just like in the cartoons!
   WOMP.
   Thought 8:  Ohhhhhhhwo. 
   And I hurt as I stared up at the northern night sky full of stars (my own or the sky's, I couldn't say for sure), laying perfectly parallel between the Timmy's and a Chevy Colorado, laughing.  Two girls peered over the counter down at me, their worried craniums obstucting constellations and saying in unison,
   “Are you okay?”
   “Yes, I'm okay.” (giggle)
   “Are you sure you're okay?”
   I got up and couldn't stop laughing.
   “Yes.”  (ow. giggle.)
   “Are you sure?”
   “Yes, I'm sure.”  (heehee.  ohh.)
   “Really?”
   “Yes, I'm fine. (ow. giggle.)  Thank you.  It's kind of funny.”  (heehee.  pain.  hee.)
   “Are you okay?”
   Was it my psychotic chortling that had them repetitively concerned? Or was it because they'd recently seen a pair of feet levitating in the drive-thru window?  Both, perhaps?  In retrospect I should've pulled the truck over and gathered my senses before operating heavy machinery all the way back to the rink, but I arrived safely with only two bruises to show for it and an ever deepening appreciation of (sigh) Mexico.  And the memory of stars ... beautiful stars ....