I Think Boston is Trying to Kill Me
By: Connor Lenahan
I do not know what I have done to anger the city of Boston, and/or the weather gods above it, but the last half hour has me convinced that someone wants me dead. Why? Because that photo is of the hailstorm that just took place outside my office for fifteen terrifying minutes. Seriously, golf ball sized hail in the middle of August.
Look, Boston, at least let me get to my birthday in 2 weeks. Just let me get some presents and then you can have me killed. Deal?
Seriously though this shouldn’t be surprising for the city with almost daily schizophrenic weather. One day it’s 40, the next 70, the day after -45 and then 103 for the weekend. That’s an exaggeration without really being an exaggeration.
Let’s not forget that snowy demon known as Juno from this January. You know, the snowstorms that dropped a Shaquille O’Neal worth of snow on Boston? The one that kept my wheelchair and I trapped in my dorm for more than a few days. The event that has it’s own full tag on Unbreakable.
That was the winter – we expected that. Suddenly in the middle of a day in which I was ready to sweat in 90 degree weather we see the sky turn pitch black, lightning strike, thunder roll, and hail come down like we are on the practice range at the US Open.
I’d like to once again apologize for whatever I did wrong. I didn’t deflate the footballs, I swear. I didn’t assault Keytar Bear or nothin’. I love you Boston. Why do you want me to die?