SPRINGFIELD, OR — The scent of lighter fluid and overconfidence filled the air Friday afternoon as local dad, Greg Thompson, triumphantly wheeled out his Weber grill, declaring it "grilling season" the moment temperatures climbed to a balmy 50 degrees.
Despite a forecast of overcast skies and a light drizzle, Thompson stood on his back patio in his finest grilling attire—khaki shorts, a wildly patterned Hawaiian shirt, and a fresh pair of blindingly white New Balance sneakers—cracking open a Coors Light as he proudly proclaimed, "Feels like summer out here!" to no one in particular.
Neighbors reported hearing the distinct sound of a metal spatula slapping raw hamburger patties as Thompson ignored his wife’s insistence that it was still “too damn cold” to be outside cooking. "You gotta embrace the season," he said, teeth chattering slightly. "In Oregon, this is prime BBQ weather. You wait for 60 degrees, and boom—it's wildfire season."
Thompson’s teenage son, Kyle, who was summoned outside to “man up and bring the buns,” stood shivering in a hoodie while scrolling TikTok, clearly unimpressed. “Dad does this every year,” he muttered. “Last time, he got frostbite on his toes but said it was just ‘a little numbness from the cold beer.’”
As the propane grill flared up with an ominous whoosh, Thompson grinned, flipping the first piece of corn on the cob with the confidence of a man who refuses to read cooking instructions. "Ahh, you smell that? That's the smell of freedom." He then spent the next fifteen minutes fighting the elements to keep his half-grilled chicken wings from flying off the grill and into the neighbor’s yard.
At press time, Thompson had relocated the entire operation into the garage, where he continued cooking under a partially opened door. “Real grillmasters adapt,” he said, dramatically wiping rain from his forehead. “Besides, the wife says I can’t set off the smoke alarm again in the kitchen.”
