As I write about in It May Not Be Hell But Something Has Frozen Over (click here), after fighting the idea, I purchased heated vests for my husband and me. We had endured too many outside events where, despite layers of clothing, we were cold, cold enough to not be able to fully concentrate on the field, the stage or the sights.
Needing to buy the vests from someplace that would make it easy to return them if need be, we did our research then looked on Amazon. Purchasing two vests in two different sizes, they arrived quickly. Delivery time was another critical deciding factor in choosing a vest, we were going to be going to Seattle in a little over a week. When the vests arrived, Mister Rain’s fit but mine didn’t; I initiated a return while also ordering a different size. In the meantime, my husband charged the battery for his vest, only to find that once he plugged it into the cord found in the pocket of the vest, it did not work. Even though the other vest was being replaced, he tried that one as well. It did not work either. I started another return process. The replacement I had ordered for myself that was en route would have to be sent back too. Even if it did work, two out of three did not bode well for it to continue working, if indeed it initially did.
Now, a few days closer to our departure for Washington state, time had become an even bigger concern. Mister Rain and I both began another investigation, finding a highly rated vest available through its manufacturer, but also via Amazon, which would provide the overnight delivery that a direct purchase would not.
When the second vests arrived, they both fit. My husband was reading their instructions when he saw a warning that the vest should not be used if you are pregnant or have a defibrillator / pacemaker, which he does. (Click here for My Husband Is Battery Powered.) Sending a message through the patent portal to his cardiologist, he received a reply later that day that using the vest would not put him at risk.
Traveling to the Pacific Northwest in late November means packing different kinds of outerwear. The new vests went in the suitcase first, followed by our raincoats and our Seahawks jacket vests. Hoodies, long underwear, waterproof hiking boots, winter hats and gloves were Jenga-arranged in the luggage. It was practically full before we even got to clothing or toiletries.
Fastforward a few days, we are at our rental house outside of Seattle. Twenty-four hours before we were to attend the Vikings vs Seahawks game, I bought my stadium-approved bag to the dining table, along with hats, gloves, ponchos, binoculars, chapstick, hand warmers, tissues and the Belkin power pack we take with us everywhere, so that we can charge our phones if necessary. The two of us went over each item as I loaded it into the bag that we would take into Lumen Field. The Belkin power pack is kept in a small Seahawks pouch my best friend, J, gave me years ago. Mister Rain had been charging our vest batteries that morning, now fully charged, he asked where he should put them. I told him to add them to the pouch and then put the pouch into the stadium bag.
Game Day. Long underwear beneath jeans and long sleeve t-shirts, the new heated vests next with our Seahawks jerseys on top. Hiking boots with heavy socks. Getting in the ADA line a few minutes before the gates were to open, I led the way to security. Knowing my husband couldn’t go through the metal detector because of his defibrillator, I went through the machine first, continuing on a few steps before moving off to the side to get out of the way while I waited for him. He wore the bag across his body, allowing me to concentrate on using my mobility cane. I heard one of the security personnel ask Mister Rain if he had any batteries in the bag. For a second I was worried, but we had done our due diligence, making sure the batteries were allowed in the stadium.
And then I heard my husband’s voice, “Sister Rain, where are the batteries?” Unconcerned, I walked back to the table, where everything that I had carefully packed in the bag the day before was strewn atop the security table. As I reached Mister Rain’s side, he lifted the Seahawks pouch out of the bag. “You put them in there.,” I reminded him. He zipped it open, pulling out its sole contents: the Belkin power pack. Nothing else was inside.
Perhaps he caught the look I must have given my husband. Maybe he saw the steam coming out the top of my head. For bless his heart, one of the security men offered, “You can go back to your car and get them.”
With gritted teeth, staring at Mister Rain, I explained, “Thank you but they are at our house, an hour away.”
Turning, I walked back to where I had been standing. My husband gathered up our belngings, restowing them back in the bag. When he reached my side, I calmly, seethingly (as he would later describe it) stated, “I am going to enjoy the next few hours and this game. But this is not over.”
Settled in our seats watching the Seahawks warm up, I could not process what had just happened. I turned to Mister Rain.There was no way I could sit here for four quarters with no answers. “What happened? We packed the bag for today together. You asked me where to put the batteries. I said in the pouch with the Belkin. Why would you have put them back in the dresser drawer?”
We both knew without discussing it that he had returned the batteries to the two Ziploc bags I had packed them in, along with their charging cords, in the bedroom dresser drawer of our bedroom for the week. Although it quite possibly would now be MY bedroom, as his future sleep could very well take place on the couch.
“I don’t know what to say.” Grasping at empty power cords, there was a mumbled “I figured you would take care of it.”
“You cannot possibly put this on me. I did ‘take care of it’, that’s why we packed for today together yesterday.”
Though my anger was helping with the chill in the air, we really weren’t dressed properly for the conditions without the heat capability. I was already cold.
Promising myself this would be the last thing I would say about it for the rest of the game, “I just can’t believe this.”
“We all make mistakes,” he said.
There was nothing he could say, but he most definitely should not have said that.
All the time spent finding the right vests for us, the first set that didn’t work, more reasearch, packing them, charging them, yet I was going to be uncomfortable at another football game.
But all was not lost. For sixty miles away in a rental house, two batteries were nice and warm in a dresser drawer.
#sisterrain #alittlesightalotofheart #legallyblindwriter #writer #writersofinstagram #humaninterest #life #lifeisgood #lifestories #marriage #batteriesnotincluded
