January 4, 2021•246 words
One last story from New Year's Eve.
I visited two friends this time around. There was a five-person indoor limit, and a curfew from 7pm on December 31st to 6am on January 1st. I don't think anyone actually got a ticket for violating the curfew. Nonetheless, I didn't want to get one.
I left the first friend's house at 6:10pm. I was on my bike. The route was pretty straight; there's a bike path along the river, and all I had to do was to cycle straight for ~8km.
It was dark - no problem! I thought. I had lights front and back, after all.
It was cold - no problem! I had warm sporting clothes all over.
Poor me didn't think about the mist. The river is in the valley, December is mist season in Poland.
I had 1 metre visibility, at best. I knew the route, but I didn't see a thing. At times, it was hard to know where the asphalt ended and the grass started. Thankfully there was no one else on the path - I'd crash into them.
This scared the shit out of me. I got through, but it was truly stressful. Especially knowing that the curfew was approaching. And I never lived through a curfew in my country.
That experience was a perfect metaphor of how life often is; a ride through the mist. We often think it's a well-lit road. While in reality,
we can't see shit.