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Well, January's wrapped up and already we New Englanders
are sick of the
snow. We ask ourselves why we live here; why don't we just go
further
south, but we stay. I chalk it up to the fact that I love going
on
vacation to Florida or the Caribbean, so living here in the tundra
only
increases the anticipation and makes me appreciate the vacation all that
much
more. I guess I need something to look forward to.
New Englanders have
been panicky about blizzards since February 1978
when we were supposed to get a little
snow, and instead, got a two-day
blizzard. I had just passed my driver's test two
days before, so I was
sure this whole blizzard thing was one big conspiracy to keep me
off the
road. No one in the neighborhood had a snow blower, so everyone made
his
or her kids go out and shovel. We didn't have school for weeks and the
governor
wouldn't let anyone drive, and after a time, things got a little
desperate.
My friend and I set out one day to walk to the grocery store,
clutching
lists given to us by our mothers. On the way home, while approaching
my
friend's house, I slid on the snow and ice and ended up face-first in
the
street. My bag of groceries spilled and I remember seeing a package of
pork
chops and a box of Trix cereal spinning wildly up the icy street
ahead of me. My
friend laughed so hard she had no strength to help me get
up. I gathered the Trix
cereal (my little sister wouldn't eat anything
else at the time), the pork chops and
what little dignity I had left and
continued on home to bring my mother her groceries.
Last year – I remember clearly – on December 1, we got a blizzard. There
I was out in the middle of it, driving down Interstate 93 from New Hampshire to
Boston
on my way to work, minding my own business – and then it happened. I
felt the back
tire get caught up in the snow, and the next thing I knew, I
was spinning. During the
second 360, I noticed the proximity of the
guardrail, and I thought to myself just
before I hit it, "I wonder if this
is going to hurt?" Fortunately (I guess), there
was a small snow bank in
front of the guardrail, which took the brunt of the impact
when my Explorer
hit. I ended up facing the oncoming traffic, wondering how I was
going to
get out of this mess. The other drivers just kept whizzing by me;
nobody
cared. Then a nice man with a tow truck (what a coincidence!) pulled
over,
jumped out, ran over to me, and asked if I was okay. By this time,
I was out of the
car looking at the big dent in the left quarter panel.
But the car was still running
and nothing was on fire, so I assumed it was
all right. The tow truck driver blocked
the right lane of the highway
with his truck, so I could turn around and get back on
my way, which I
thought was nice since he wasn't going to make any money off of me
that
day. I thought about going home, but I was just outside of Boston, and
I
figured it was safer to continue on than to go back home. I got to work
without
further incident, grateful that the cup of Dunkin' Donuts coffee
in the cup holder
didn't spill. That would have been a disaster.
As the day passed, the
nasty blizzard roared on, and it became very clear
that I wasn't going home that
night. Luckily, I had my ESPN-Walt Disney
World overnight bag with me (we New
Englanders know how to prepare) and
the firm was kind enough to put a co-worker and me
up in a hotel for the
night (read: make sure someone shows up for work the next day),
which I
thought was better than sleeping in the ladies' room. I left work
around
10:30 that night and, after retrieving my ESPN-Walt Disney World
overnight
bag from my car, which was parked in the garage under the building, I
set
out alone through the front door of the building into the blizzard with
the
intention of walking a few blocks to the hotel.
Silly me.
The wind was blowing and the snow was drifting, and I found myself
walking
into the wind. After a short time, this triggered my asthma, which I
had
all but forgotten about since it hadn't bothered me for a long time.
Onward I
struggled, gasping for breath. I ducked into the alley between
the hotel and the
office building beside it, hoping I could get into the
hotel through an entrance
there. But alas, it was not to be. There was
no entrance there; only a big glass
window and I just couldn't go on. I
dumped my ESPN-Walt Disney World overnight bag
and knelt down in the snow, digging through my pocketbook and tossing the contents left
and right
looking for my inhaler. It was becoming very difficult to breathe, and
I
seriously contemplated a call to 911, but I couldn't find my cell phone,
and I
figured by the time the ambulance got through the snowdrifts in the
street, I'd be
passed out in the alley, mistaken for a snow bank and left
to freeze. There was a
pylon in the alley, and I found myself hanging over
it, the contents of my purse
strewn about and my ESPN-Walt Disney World
overnight bag cast carelessly aside, trying
to catch my breath. Through
the big glass window, I noticed people strolling through
the hotel's lobby.
They were gawking out the window at me and my belongings. No
doubt thinking I was a transient of some sort, not worthy of assistance. No doubt these
are the same people who whizzed by me on Interstate 93 whilst I was careening into the
guardrail.
Finally, I located the inhaler. I calmed myself down and my
breathing eased. I set out to continue one more block around the corner to the hotel
entrance. Of course, by the time I got to the hotel entrance, I was wheezing heavily
again. The doorman was shoveling. He stopped long enough to look at me and
my
ESPN-Walt Disney World overnight bag and then went back to shoveling. I had to
open the door myself. I was met in the lobby by a man in a snorkel parka, hood zipped
up, who merrily clapped his mittened hands and said to me in a sing-song voice, "You're
just coming in and we're going out!" What? Who is this guy? I told him in ragged
breaths to perform an anatomically impossible act on himself, as I leaned against the
wall and slowly slid to the floor, still clutching my inhaler. "Oh, dear," the man said
and shuffled away in his parka. Damn tourists. After a couple more
hits on the
inhaler, I was better and was able to check into my room.
The firm, of course, was
grateful and sent along a $25 American Express
gift check to those who showed up to
work. Unfortunately, it didn't cover
the deductible for the damage to my car.
We just had another blizzard – the Blizzard of 2005 they're calling it.
That was exciting. Fortunately, nothing happened to me during this
blizzard. But
this year, I was smart. I stayed home. There's only so
much a person can take.
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