Beard Blog Day 65: Rubber Duckies and Rainbows

The winters are long in Northern British Columbia, Canada (where today marks the coldest day in the history of Canada). On days like these I often while away the days wondering how to survive and in these moments a man can go a little crazy, as can be seen from this older video from when I had just a we beard.

I’m not sure what got over me maybe I was channelling my inner Johann Beardraven and his antics last year during World Beard Day

The small plane I have boarded from Hobart isn’t nearly as full of World Beard Day cheer as I might have expected. In fact, I seem to be the only one wearing a World Beard Day t-shirt – most others seem to be scientist types or hard-core snowboarders. Undeterred, I continue waving my World Beard Day flag and chanting “World Beard Day – Woooooooooo!” at the top of my voice until the half a litre of scotch that I chugged pre-flight kicks in and I fall asleep.

When I wake up, the plane has landed and everyone else seems to have left, aside from the plane’s beardless captain who is shaking his head at me – probably upset that I didn’t invite him to the wild World Beard Day party that I am planning for later tonight. While I am wearing only my t-shirt, thongs and my hairy shorts that I fashioned from some beard-like material that I found at Spotlight, I have full confidence that my impressive beard will protect me from whatever the elements may throw my way. So I belt out of the plane, down the stairs and begin running across the ice, waving the flag furiously and screaming “Happy World Beard Day motherfuckerrrrrrrs!” I just start to notice that the large crowd I was anticipating upon my arrival doesn’t seem to exist, when I lose all feeling in my legs, and go crashing face-first into the ice, knocking myself unconscious.

When I come to, I am in some kind of medical facility. A concerned-looking man hovers over me, asking me if I know what day it is. “World Beard Day biiiiiitch!” I yell back enthusiastically. He looks startled, mentions something about finding me a doctor and hurries off. I start to become concerned that the World Beard Day celebrations may have begun without me so I get gingerly to my feet to have a look around. While it appears that I am in some kind of research station, I am soon relieved to find a rather unshaven gentleman walking around. I begin to engage him in an enthusiastic discussion about World Beard Day, however he just stares blankly at me for a while before muttering something about having work to do and scuttles off. Not to be discouraged, I immediately spot a bloke with an even bigger beard, and march right up to him and exclaim my admiration for his facial hair. Rather than thank me, he scowls and mutters something about wishing he could shave it off if he only had access to hot water. I am taken slightly aback.

“Seriously though man”, I say, “how good is having a beard??” Again, just a blank stare.

“Aren’t you that fuckhead who was wearing shorts?” he finally says. I’m sure he couldn’t be talking about me, so I change the subject.

“Happy World Beard Day!” I say.

“Look mate”, he says, “why don’t you just fuck right off.”

The rest of the band was also sent to the four corners of the globe and can be enjoyed in full here.

Johann’s enthusiasm has again sparked my insanity in these cold winter days.

But the winters here are not what they used to be.

You’d think with a thicker beard I’d be brave enough still to do this in my boxers but perhaps with more follicles comes more common sense or maybe I’ll have more courage come 300 days from now.

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