Tony Deyal
I WAS just about to ring the front desk in the hotel to ask the receptionist what it would cost me to have a refrigerator in my room, when I thought of his reaction. He would say, "But Monsieur, you don't need a refrigerator, you just have to open the window and you would have a freezer."
I am in Montreal at a Holiday Inn located in the heart of that city's Chinatown. I am attending the annual meeting of the many countries, called 'parties', who signed the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change.
With the cold, wintry wind whipping through the weave, woof and warp of what you're wearing, woollen though it might be, believe me, it ain't no party being a party. Here Long John is not the first and middle name of a peg-legged pirate, but underwear that reaches down to your ankles.
It was cold when I arrived after midnight on Saturday and colder on Sunday, but still within the capacity of a leather jacket, jeans and several scarves to contain.
FREEZING EARS
My ears were freezing and I bought a Canadian version of the deerstalker favoured by Sherlock Holmes - one would call it a moose, elk or caribou cap, complete with ear flaps big enough for Britain's Prince Charles or Walt Disney's Dumbo.
I was too cold to colour coordinate, so the grey, black, blue and white scarves, dark brown leather jacket, blue gloves, and brown and black spotted, furry hat, while lacking the subtlety of a Dior, did much for the comfort of a Deyal. With all the accoutrements I looked like Nanook of the North crossed with Hankook of the tyres.
This ensemble was complemented by my size 12 extra wide Clark's leather shoes or botas as the Spanish would say. As I got into my bulkhead seat in the plane, I took them off.
The lady next to me, who sought egress on her way to the washroom, tripped on them and nearly broke her neck. I looked at her apologetically but she regarded me with an expression of near panic - perhaps something about the size of my feet gave her pause.
Little did she know that I probably owe my continued existence and the ability to perform further feats to my redoubtable Clark's and the feet that fit them.
It was what in Chinatown they call 'fen shoey'. Confucius probably has appropriate advice but all I could remember was, 'Man who walks through airport door sideways going to Bangkok' or even 'All men eat but Fu Manch'.
So, armed with deep thoughts and no sense of foreboding or even fifth-boding, I ventured forth from the hotel early one Monday morning to attend the first day of the two-week-long marathon that is the Conference of Parties on climate change.
CLIMATE CHANGED
The climate had indeed changed. The cold wind had given way to freezing rain. Fen Shui or not, it was an inauspicious start.
For the uninitiated, freezing rain does not look and feel like much. However, it is when you try walking on pavements, sidewalks and streets made slippery by ice that you realise the danger of the phenomenon. By then it is probably too late.
In Trinidad, when we deem it necessary to issue a warning to someone whose behaviour gives cause for concern and we want to make it abundantly clear that we are intolerant of error, we say, 'If you slip by me, you slide.'
SKID NOT AN OPTION
In other words, slip is the positive, and slide the superlative of falling out of favour. There is no comparative. You run through the whole gamut of options in one fell or falling swoop. Slip and you slide and that's it. 'Skid' is not an option.
Neither is 'skate' although the situation could be described as 'skating on thin ice'. In cricket, they say (referring to Shane Warne), 'It's not over until the fat laddie spins.' With my weight, I should have taken it as a warne-ing.
The way from my hotel to the convention centre is down a slight incline. My first steps as I hit the pavement were not steps as we know them. I was skating on thin ice.
I wonder what people thought as they saw this behemoth bearing down on them, scarves streaming in the wind like a World War I daredevil pilot.
A few Chinese looked heavenward for help. I can swear that a stop sign deliberately avoided my clutching fingers.
However, thank the Almighty for my big feet. I forgive those who joked that if I wanted to turn around I would have to go to a roundabout. My extra wide Clark's were like a pair of skis. If my feet were smaller I would probably have bounced my head on the concrete or brick sidewalk.
As it was, I slalomed straight into the convention hall. Had I a ski-dometer, it would have registered speeds if not faster than light, at least faster than sound.
When I reached and held on to the door of the building, I could hear my heartbeat coming closer and closer, together with the frightened screams of the pedestrians I had sailed past.
I flapped my arms at a mystified Chinese man. "Bird flew," I said. Yes, indeed, the eagle has landed. Safely.
Tony Deyal was last seen betting that he actually saw snow fall at the Queen's Park Oval in Trinidad. It happened during an England-West Indies match. The snow referred to was John Snow, the English fast bowler.
