I am not a cold weather person.

By the time you get this paper in your hand, I’ll have already been in one of the coldest places in the country for several hours.

Much to my dismay, I’ll be spending this weekend in downtown Minneapolis, Minn.

I should clarify; I’ll enjoy what I’m there for, which is the Midwest American Collegiate Press convention and competition.

My gripe is simple: February in Minneapolis.

If I were so low quality a person that the devil decided eternity in hell wasn’t punishment enough, he could send me to a place with the climate of Minneapolis.

I have dubbed this trip, “The Chart goes to Minnesnowta.”

There is no doubt in my mind that Chart staff members and myself will get enough benefit from the convention and who knows, maybe bring home an award or two, to be well worth the hassle of sub-freezing temperatures.

But that doesn’t mean that I’ll enjoy Jack Frost nipping my nose to the point it freezes and detaches from the rest of my face.

Why would anyone want to maintain his or her existence in a place where a 25-degree day is unseasonably warm?

I legitimately don’t understand the logic.

Would you rather walk out your front door dressed in four layers of clothing, your head covered with some sort of insulation, feet laced up in boots, and still be chilled to the bone, or head out in shorts, a T-shirt and, perhaps, sandals, enjoying a comfortable temperature?

It’s like Minneapolis is ignorant of the existence of the rest of the world.

“You mean, it gets above freezing some places? I thought that was just in the movies!”

“What’s that even like?

“Do people there just spontaneously combust?”

At least if we get cold weather one day down here, it changes the next day.