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Twisted Tales of Time Travel – Chapter 17

By Carla Birnberg

"I've never been this cold," I whined to Michael. My teeth chattered, my fingers felt numb, and my knees literally knocked in a futile attempt to produce heat.

"We've travizzled to Alaska," Michael declared.

"Alaska?" I questioned.

"Definitely. It's dark outside but with so many people around it must be daytime. Alaska doesn't receive much daylight during the winter. It's cold in Alaska and it's freezing here."

I pulled my hands inside my sleeves in an effort to thaw them. "Michael, for some reason I just don't think we're in Alaska."

"Now that's a winter jacket!" Michael pointed at a passerby. "I need a long black coat and top hat combo like that guy has. I'd look like a goober, but I'd definitely be warm."

The top hat man stopped walking, spun on the heels of his black dress shoes, and turned in our direction.

"I think he heard you laugh at his outfit!" I whispered. "He's coming over here."

"He didn't hear me. Regardless, it wasn't as though I made fun of his silly bow tie," Michael snickered. "Yet."

"Rose and Michael, welcome to Gobblers Knob. Bill Anderson at your service and I'm thrilled you could join us on this auspicious occasion."

After the man spoke, I barely noticed his strange hat and bow tie. His words had such a stilted and overly dramatic tone.

"It's frigid at Knobbler's Knob," Michael sputtered.

"And dark," I added.

"Ha, ha." The man laughed in his odd fashion. "It's Gobblers Knob. Don't you know why you're here at 3:00 a.m.?"

Michael and I shook our heads.

Mr. Anderson checked his watch and clapped his hands. "It is precisely 3 am. We must hurry as the gates are due to open."

Spontaneously a crowd appeared and, like our new friend, others in the crowd wore old fashioned hats and bowties.

"Onward!" Mr. Anderson grabbed our hands and propelled us toward what resembled a park. "Friends, fun, and the fabulous Phil await. Rose," he continued excitedly, "you're in here." Mr. Anderson nudged me toward a white tent. "I'll take Michael to his area."

Inside the tent, a girl sat and read The Princess Diaries.

"The Princess Diaries?" I thought. "Some of the clothes look old fashioned, but I guess we didn't time travel."

"I was beginning to worry that you wouldn't arrive," the girl said. "I'm Tess and you must be Rose. You're one important girl." Tess picked up a paper bag upon which was printed: Rose Dennis President. "Here's everything you'll need."

"I'm important?" I asked. "Do you say that because you had to wait a long time for me?"

"No," Tess laughed. "It's just that we don't usually have Ground Hog Day volunteers greet people individually."

"Ground Hog Day," I said more to myself than to Tess.

"It's a huge deal here in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania and you're the first girl ever to participate," Tess opened the bag and revealed a pile of clothing.

"On the bag it says I'm President, but President of what?"

"You saw the people wearing long coats and top hats, right? Those are the members of the Inner Circle. They're in charge of all Ground Hog Day ceremonies," Tess handed me a wool cape and a matching long skirt.

"Each year, since 1886, we gather at Gobblers Knob and wait for the ground hog, Punxsutawney Phil, to emerge from his house. If Phil sees his shadow it means six more weeks of winter. If there's no shadow, then spring is on its way."

"You said I'm the first girl. What did you mean?" I asked as I pulled the skirt on over my jeans.

"Ground Hog day is steeped in tradition. Until today, the Inner Circle has been all male. You must be special for them to let you perform the Presidential duties."

"I have duties?"

"As President, you translate Phil's message from Groundhogese to English," Tess grinned. "Basically you announce: shadow or no shadow. But, since it's an important proclamation, you must be dramatic about it."

"You mean talk like Mr. Anderson?"

"Yes, that's precisely it. Bill Anderson is the Inner Circle Scribe. He records Phil's forecast and takes his Inner Circle job very seriously," Tess overemphasized the last two words of her sentence.

"If I'm the President, then what's Michael?"

A sly grin spread across Tess' face. "Michael is the honorary Ground Hog Handler. He's probably feeding Phil his breakfast of ice cream and dog food. Then he'll prep Phil to prognosticate."

"Prognostiwhat?" I stammered.

"Oops," Tess apologized. "Prognosticate means forecast from signs and it's what Phil does using his shadow. As president, you go out, stand onstage, and declare that you're here to present Punxsutawney Phil, Seer of Seers, Sage of Sages, Prognosticator of Prognosticators, and Weather Prophet Extraordinaire. Then you simply wait and announce if Phil sees his shadow."

Tess saw my grimace, reached in her pocket, and produced an index card. "I wrote it down. I'd never remember all that if I hadn't heard it a million times."

Tess glanced at her watch, "You're on in two minutes." She smiled at me and straightened my cape. "Make us girls proud."

I clutched my index card as I walked out of the tent and onto the platform where a tophatted, overcoated, and bowtied Michael waited.

"Can you believe thousands of people came to see an animal prognosticate?" Michael asked.

"I can't believe I know what prognosticate means!" I joked.

"These people take winter seriously. Now that I've experienced it I can see why! Ready for Phil?"Michael asked.

I nodded, took a deep breath and read aloud the words on my index card.

Then came the pivotal moment: I looked down at furry Phil and saw precisely what he saw.

"Phil sees his shadow!!" I announced. "Six more weeks of winter." The disappointed group booed with such emotion that I wanted totravizzle them all back with me to sunny Texas.

Carla Birnberg lives in Austin and leads local book clubs.

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