Frozen Coke

Is not as delicious as it sounds.

Living in Alaska in the winter changes how you think about heat. Commuting in the morning is less about bringing the car to a comfortable temperature, and more about hoping that soon my fingers will stop sticking to the steering wheel. At some point, I'd like the liquid crystal display in the radio to unfreeze enough to show something other than "VOL 00" too.

The unforgiving winter means that I carry a supply of MREs (now frozen), blankets, a flashlight, and a recovery strap for pulling ditch divers and culvert inspectors back onto the tarmac. I tried carrying a supply of water too, but quickly realized that driving around with an ice cube in the trunk was a ridiculous exercise.

It also means that the coke I left in the cup holder yesterday was rock solid and two hours on my desk unfroze only a little of the syrup. The slushy mess that ended up on my shirt tasted of molasses and was sour tart like rotten orange juice. The cold ruins more than my beverage. Contact frostbite is serious and comical. Going to the range? Shooting with your nose against the charging handle? Piece of your nose stuck to it? These are complaints that those outside of Alaska (and maybe Korea) don't worry about. That and moose. Moose are retarded and massive and aggressive.

We leave on Monday. I'll miss this place.