The first thing I felt was the air, hanging stale and thick, engulfing me like a coat. Freezing cold air, the kind that cuts through you like a blade with no regard to clothing or cover. The automatic doors to the terminal exit slid open with a low-frequency hum and the cold immediately attacked my face, fighting my skin to bury itself in every pore and crevice. Any heat coming from my cheeks and neck immediately gave way, leaving my skin a wasteland of alternating pink and grey.

I looked down to grab the handles to my suitcase, pausing briefly to look at the blush-colored YYZ airport code tags that signified their destination. Suddenly the instrumental of the same name by Rush, Canada's native sons, made total sense. With one last inhale I sucked up the last bits of lingering warm air, grabbed my bags and guitar case, and made for the street. Curbside I dropped the bags to the ground and quickly began hailing a cab. My jacket sleeve slowly slid down my arm and as it did, the cold eagerly whipped around the exposed skin, looking to leech all warmth and moisture from it.

"Get us a cab, it's fucking cold out here!" yelled Anna from behind me. Since we were both staying at the same hotel it only made sense we share a ride there. I had stepped but one foot into Canada and already I regretted the decision.

"Jesus fucking Christ it's cold!" Anna yelled at nobody in particular. She stamped her feet presumably to keep warm, but it looked like more trouble than it was worth. A cab finally pulled forward and the driver shot out of the car.

"Let's go, let's go, gotta get you inside where it's warmer." He tossed bag upon bag into the deep trunk. When he went for the guitar case I waved him off and carefully placed it in the back seat with me. I don't know how much banging and dropping it endured being moved and removed from the belly of our plane but I sure as hell didn't want to witness an encore performance in the cab.

Anna took the passenger seat up front and barked out the address to our hotel.

"Waterfront. Nice. Though that wind coming off the lake can sure mess with you." He looked at me through his rear view mirror for a bit, taking in my outfit.

"Buddy, you have anything heavier than that jacket?" he asked.

I looked down at my jacket, a wool-lined nylon shell number from Banana Republic. That and the sweater underneath seemed to hold the cold at bay, but not for long. And my face and neck were losing the battle entirely.

"Not really. Is that bad?" I said.

The driver laughed and shook his head. "It's okay, you're not from here. You'll figure it out."

Anna felt neglected and butted into the conversation. "Is it always like this? How cold does it get?"

"It's about 2 Celsius right now." He paused, and realizing we were Americans, added, "that's around 35 degrees. But this is nothing. Give it a couple weeks and we'll have negative 9 or 10 every day. That's like 15 degrees. Makes you toughen up. We don't have weak winters for nothing."

"That's just great," Anna said sarcastically.

We pulled onto a freshly plowed lane and drove up to the hotel. I got out and ran for cover like a bandit. I figured he was dressed more appropriately for the cold, he could bring the bags to us.

"Hey!" he said, sensing we might duck out on the fare.

"I'm not going anywhere," I yelled through chattering teeth. He brought our bags into the foyer and I gave him my supply of loonies in return. He bid me a hearty farewell and told me to take a little time and see the city. You'll love our town, he assured me.

I made my way into the lobby where Anna was already checking in and behaving like a screen goddess descending on the French Riviera for holiday. Some people feel the need to hog the spotlight as much as they can. I used to think this was indicative of all women, but now I know it's only certain ones. As I ambled closer to the check-in desk with my bags in tow, deperately trying to coax bloodflow back into my arms, I heard Anna complaining about a deposit on the in-room safe and something about club floor access. I didn't want my associate's temprament connected with me in any way so I made a sharp detour and made for the coffee cart, hoping to filter some kind of warmth through my body. I chilled, literally, for five minutes while Anna worked out such details of high importance as what floor her room was to be on, which direction she preferred to face, and when her wake-up call would be set for. I caught a front desk employee roll his eyes.

When Anna and her bellman were clear of the desk I finished what was left of my expresso and walked towards the counter, leaving my bags propped against a nearby sofa. I strolled to the most available-looking desk clerk, a cute brunette with dark olive skin and long, tightly-curled hair. Very exotic. Perhaps Persian, though her nametag did nothing to confirm my guess. It plainly read "Olivia."

"Good afternoon," she began, locking eyes with me. "Checking in?"

"Yes," I responded, "Becker is the last name. It should be under that or the business account for TWBA." I admired her eyes as I spoke, slowly drawn in by their hypnotic powers. She smiled and began thumbing through some cards, looking up every so often to see if I was still watching her. I smiled when her eyes met mine. They were black with a band of chestnut brown circling the middle. She quickly looked back down and continued searching for the card.

"Wow, you're going to be here for a long time," she responded when she found it.

"Thanks for reminding me."

"Oh, I didn't mean to rub your nose in it. It's just 8 weeks is not our guest's normal length of stay."

"Yeah," I slowly replied as the idea of two months in a hotel lingered in my mind. "As long as that is I may need to extend the checkout date if our project goes long. Who do I talk to about that?"

"You can call the front desk any time," she said, pulling the coat of her uniform a little tight. She wanted her name tag to pop out so I'd notice it and call on her. "Any of us can help you with that."

Olivia took care of the particulars and I filled out and signed the necessary parts. Then she noticed my guitar.

"Are you in a band?" She smiled as she said this and I fell once again into her gaze. She had a sultry Mediterranean/Garden of Eden thing about her. She looked like the last person you'd expect to encounter in Canada. I imagined rolling around with Olivia, her hair tousled over our faces as we frantically kissed and nipped at each other while we tried to remove our clothes. Olivia looked like she knew how to bring a man to his knees. I would have fun finding out if it was true.

My mind returned to the present and I realized she was waiting for an answer.

"Me? No, I'm no good. I brought it for practice. To improve upon my skills."

"That's not so bad," she replied, but her tone sounded unimpressed, disappointed. I needed to move quickly.

"Were you hoping for a private performance sometime?" I leaned in towards her side of the counter and added, "or maybe you'd prefer to be the one giving the performance."

It happened so fast I didn't know what transpired, but an instant after I'd gotten the sentence out of my mouth, Olivia went into a fit of quick sneezes. Her face turned a bright red, her nose a near purple hue, as small sneezes repeated in machine gun fire-like fashion for over 10 seconds. She paused just long enough for me to ask "are you alright?" before launching into another salvo of 10 or so seconds. When she finally stopped she immediately gasped for air, sucking breathe after breathe like somebody who was hyperventilating. Gradually her breathing returned to normal and her face went back to its lovely olive tone.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," she repeatedly said in a state of high distress.

"Are you okay?" I again inquired. "You feeling alright? Am I wearing something that's causing you an alergic reaction?"

Olivia shook her head violently, hair flying left and right which caused me to briefly return to my Olivia fantasy. "No, no, I feel so embarrassed." Her breathing quickened pace again and for a moment I thought so was going to lapse back into her allergic episode. Slowly her breathing returned to normal, and she reached for a bottle of water behind the counter and took a big swig before continuing.

"I get these reactions when I feel like I'm being intimidated or feel really uncomfortable. It's this neurotic-slash-psychological defense mechanism my body has."

I sank back a bit, feeling like a jerk. This is what happens when I hit on her? I'm making a wonderful first impression. She must think all American men are snake charmers.

"I'm really sorry if you felt I was coming on too strong, that was not my intention. Sometimes I can go a little overboard in my flirting. I'd hoped you weren't taken too badly by it, but obviously you were."

"It's okay," she said, putting her hand over mine on the counter. "I'm no good at flirting, so when something like this happens I feel cornered, and well, you saw what happened."

I wanted to tell her that with a face and body as beautiful as hers she shouldn't be afraid to flirt, but I feared she'd react with another series of sneezing fits.

"Well I feel badly about this, I really do," I said. I started to remove my Banana Republic jacket but was quickly reminded how cold the lobby was and put it back on my shoulders. "I just wanted to start off on a friendly foot, considering how long I will be here and how often I'll have to interact with the staff, and I've instead gone and made an embarrassing situation of it. You probably think American men are all bullying asses."

"I don't. Really. Don't feel bad."

"Please, let me make it up to you. Perhaps I can buy you a drink one night after work." I turned and pointed across the hall towards their lounge. "We could meet over there. I'll even sit on my hands for the entire time so you don't think I'm getting any ideas." Jesus, that was lame, I thought. I'm coming dangerously close to begging. That's bad form.

"I don't think that would be a good idea," she responded. She seemed a little sad, and when I tried to engage her in eye contact she kept her head down.

"Oh, okay. No harm done."

"No, that's not what I meant," said Olivia. "We have an anti-fraternization policy. We can't co-mingle with guests here at the hotel off the clock. But perhaps one night we could go somewhere else for a drink. I know a few good places." She didn't look up for the longest time, and when she did her face showed uncertainty, a fear that hinted she wasn't used to doing this sort of thing. I wondered if she'd ever agreed to go out with someobdy inside of five minutes. She was doing her damnest to not slip back into her neurotic sneezing state.

When I replied with "it's a deal," her face lit up some and everything was back to normal. "You pick the night," I said. "I have a feeling you'll know how to find me."

We finished the check-in process and a bellman with a short shaggy beard and hair pulled back in a ponytail came for my bags, loading them on his cart before carefully taking my guitar case and laying it flat at the bottom of the cart. I looked the guy over. He had a beach bum look about him. But it wasn't coming naturally, it was like he was trying to be somebody he wasn't. In California he would have been the wanna-be surfer type.

"Sweet, a guitarist," he said. "Whatcha got in there? Ibanez? Gibson? Rickenbacker?"

"Danelectro," I responded.

"50s rig. Cool."

Olivia waved as we disappeared around the corner and made for the elevator. "That was cool back there with Olivia," the guy said. "You're gonna kill in this town."

We rode up the elevator to my floor. "You here for long?" he asked me.

"Two months, maybe more."

"So you're gonna get the worst of our winter and leave just by the time it begins warming up. Sucks." He looked me over, paying special attention to my coat and the sweater I wore under it.
"You also may want to get some heavier clothing."

"Why, is this not going to cut it?" I asked.

He chuckled. "You'll figure it out soon enough, dude."

We arrived at our floor and he started giving me the company spiel about where everything was located, who to call if I needed this or that - pausing to add a sly "I suppose you can call Olivia now for anything else you need" - before coming to a stop at my door. He undid the lock and pushed open the door, revealing the dark room I'd call home for the next few months.

Drawing the curtains, he added "you'd have a really beautiful view of the lake if this were spring. It's not so impressive right now." He made for the bedroom and put my suitcases down in front of it before returning to the ante room to point out a couple of amenities. "TV armoire houses a mini-stereo and a DVD player, so you can watch movies." He moved over to a counter along a side wall. "Cabinet opens to reveal - ta da - the honor bar, our number one guest favorite. Houses small liquor bottles, beer, bottled water, and some snacks. If you're gonna be here as long as you are you're better off going downstairs to the bar or any of the lounges around town. The underground city has some cool spots."

"There's an underground city?"

"Yeah. Tell you what dude, come down to the bellman's desk tomorrow when you're all settled in and I'll point out some of the better stuff to do in town. Where to go, what to see."

"Cool. Places I can go to relax, meet people, and party?"

He made a puffing smoke sign with my thumb and forefinger. "Party?"

I shook my head. "Not what I was thinking of, but now I know who to turn to if I change my mind."

The bellman laughed. "Yeah, I can hook that up too if you need it."

"You're a regular full-service valet," I replied.

"You are going to love it here, dude. Toronto's a rockin' town. And the women - man! - they dig you American guys. They're gonna be all over you."

"All over me like Japanese tourists wanting to buy my Levi's?" I asked.

"Pssh. You know what I mean, dude."

I tipped the bellman and I walked him to the door. I watched him ride off on his cart skateboard style until he turned a corner and was gone. I went inside and laid down. It hadn't hit me that I was 2500 miles from home. I stared at the ceiling, tracing the random acoustic ceiling patterns that cris-crossed the room. I'd have to start over. Square one. Back to zero. New office. In my professional, post-college life, I'd only ever worked in one office for one company. New friends. My childhood chums and college cronies seemed a distant memory, all frozen in time miles away in Los Angeles. New place to live. Thankfully the room wasn't the claustrophobic square box most hotel rooms are. It had an ante room for sitting and presumably entertaining, while the proper bedroom could be closed off behind frosted glass doors. I walked to the door of the bathroom and flipped on the light, peering inside to give the room the once over. Not bad. Sunken oval tub. Separate glass shower. Generous-sized vanity. Could be worse.

I walked over to the cabinet housing the honor bar and opened it. Numerous airline-sized bottles of booze lined the inside door, while colas, juices and mixers were stacked neatly on the interior shelves. The bottom held small bags and cans of nuts and chips. This could be trouble. I shut the door and accompanying cabinet and went over to the hotel services booklet laying on the desk. I noticed mention of a gym in the basement. Good, I didn't want to stop working out. Indoor pool and spa. Nice. I'd have to give that a go. Swimming is the single best exercise for bulding shoulder and bicep/tricep muscles. Out of the corner of my eye I spied a cardboard cutout about in-room broadband service and a price chart. Yikes, that could get expensive. I'd have to talk to the management and try to strike a deal since I'd be here longer than just a few days. It will be a good chance to see how receptive the staff would be to special requests.

I returned to the bed and sat there, rubbing my temples and replaying the day's events. Looking out the window and towards the water, I saw the chilled air move diagonally downward and a few cars below on the plowed streets. People dartred from their buildings towards city buses. Down the street the snow had collected a bit more and a some people marched through it unaffected on their way to destinations unknown. One thing was for sure, this was going to be a cold place, colder than I'd ever known. I collapsed on the bed, in my new home, in my new land.