Too Hot for Chicken

Too Hot for Chicken From Chicken Soup for the Soul: Power Mom

Sometimes the laughter in mothering is the recognition of the ironies and absurdities. Sometimes, though, it's just pure, unthinking delight.

~Barbara Schapiro

It was a warm summer morning. I had just finished reading the grocery specials in the paper. I didn't really need anything for the next few days. Nothing stuck out as a particularly good deal except the bonus chicken packs: chicken quarters packed in family sizes. But if I drove over to the store (I reasoned) for just one item, wouldn't the gas cost cut into the savings?

Five minutes later I was headed to the store on my bike: helmet on my head, old pack on my back, and five bucks in my pocket. The temperature seemed to have gone up a little, I noticed as I pedaled the two miles to the store. Maybe I should bike more. I locked up my bike and went in. The cold air greeted me pleasantly as I entered the store. I headed straight back to the meat counter. Sure enough, there was a stack of chicken family packs just waiting for me. While the price was fabulous, the packages were a little larger than I had imagined. What the heck, I thought, as I grabbed a package weighing slightly over ten pounds, and then headed for the checkout.

"Paper or plastic," the clerk asked. She gave me a whole lot of change for so much meat and slipped the family pack into a sack, with most of it sticking out the top.

I headed outside, pleased with my purchase and with visions of fried chicken, chicken tacos, chicken and rice, stir-fry chicken, and chicken casserole in my head. Reality set in when the air hit my face. Not warm air, but really hot air. I realized I didn't have the car, so the chicken would be riding on my back. I stuffed it into my old backpack flat side towards my back as I reasoned with myself. It's only two miles. If I concentrate I will be home in no time.

Actually the partially frozen chicken felt cold against my back but the rest of me was beginning to sweat as the hot air rushed by me. It seemed as long as I didn't stop, I would be okay. The heat wouldn't really bother me. In my head I began to count the number of stop signs left before I got home. A signal light loomed just ahead at the top of the rise. As I approached, it turned yellow so I stopped. I had less than a mile left. I felt pretty good but the sweat seemed to be pouring off me from the heat. I was sticky all over. For a moment at the signal it was quiet. Then I heard a woman start screaming. The light turned green but the cars didn't move. Maybe there had been an accident? I looked behind me even though I never heard any cars crunch.

What I saw was a small herd of people coming up the road towards to me. There was a man in a suit, a woman with a beach towel, and a few others. I heard someone yell, "I'm a nurse." I looked around again and still, no visible accident. Moving faster, this herd of folks started talking loudly in my direction.

"Are you alright? We're here to help."

Who are they talking to, I wondered?

Someone put a hand on my handlebar as if to steady my bike. Another took my hand and looked me in the eye.

"Can we help you?" they all asked. I had no idea what was wrong. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw traffic stopping and piling up. Over the heads of the people now surrounding me, I saw someone directing traffic. I was baffled!

"No!" I told this little bunch of folks. "I'm fine!" It was their turn to look puzzled.

Someone spoke up. "Well, you are bleeding all over! Why don't you get off your bike and take off your backpack?"

I got off my bike and moved toward the side of the road. Willing hands held my bike and helped me get my backpack off.

"Were you in an accident? Were you stabbed?" I was peppered with strange questions.
Who are these people and what do they want from me?

Then I looked down at my backpack, sitting now on the white concrete strip of road. There was a red ring around it! I realized my arms and legs also had blood on them. I pointed to the backpack as I started to laugh―so hard I could barely talk.

"It's my chicken," I told the startled group of people.

They opened my backpack not knowing what to expect. And they found ten pounds of now seriously thawing chicken parts, which had leaked through the paper sack, through my backpack and all over me.

I looked like an accident victim. There was chicken blood all over my arms and legs―everywhere I looked.

Suddenly, everyone was laughing out of relief. Eventually, the guy directing traffic yelled "She's OKAY!" and motioned the cars through the green light. The lady with the beach towel handed the towel to me. A couple in the crowd told me they had followed me for a quarter mile thinking I would collapse.

All of a sudden I realized how hot it was! All this for cheap chicken!

Eventually I got home, showered and started supper. As my gang gathered around the table, everyone was talking about their day. Someone piped up, "I thought we were having chicken tonight?"

I smiled, not yet ready to share my adventure. "Perhaps you just misunderstood," I said. "It's just too hot for chicken today!"

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