Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Snow probably doesn’t much interest the vast majority of people who follow this blog. They are from the Midwest and, quite frankly, feel they endure worse out there with their lake-effect snow than most places in the world. But over the weekend a biblical snowfall hit New York the likes of which even the most jaded Midwesterner would gawk at.
Here the weathermen were predicting 10-12 inches all over the news; a snowstorm, yes, but nothing too far out of the ordinary (here they call them Nor’easters). And on Saturday night a fine snow began to dust the area. I went to bed early, smiting the weathermen for sensationalizing the weather just like their fellow anchormen. “This is going to be nothing.”
Early in the morning a giant clap of thunder woke me. “Thunder, in February?” Little did I know in that confused state that it was indeed still winter and also that this was nature’s way of announcing to this arrogant city that it was she who was boss. I came to my senses and looked out the window to see nothing but white and lightning in the skys. “An electric snow storm”, I thought. Holy sh*t.
It didn’t stop. And by time Sunday afternoon came around a total of 27” would have fallen in Central Park. And just so those jaded Midwesterners gain a sense of perspective the largest single snowfall in Chicago was a mere 22”. I’ve got you by at least five inches (those words will never come from this mouth again).
And with the coming and going of the snow came tranquility to this ordinarily bustling and noisy city. No cars, and a thick blanket of snow to absorb any remaining sound took care of that. On the subway people of all ages could be seen in their winter gear and toys to go play in the snow. And this epicenter of culture, business, publishing – you name it – took a little time out to go sledding.
As for me, I was with the remaining people not in Central Park. . . Looking out from my warm apartment – eer, with a Cosmo in my hand.
Here the weathermen were predicting 10-12 inches all over the news; a snowstorm, yes, but nothing too far out of the ordinary (here they call them Nor’easters). And on Saturday night a fine snow began to dust the area. I went to bed early, smiting the weathermen for sensationalizing the weather just like their fellow anchormen. “This is going to be nothing.”
Early in the morning a giant clap of thunder woke me. “Thunder, in February?” Little did I know in that confused state that it was indeed still winter and also that this was nature’s way of announcing to this arrogant city that it was she who was boss. I came to my senses and looked out the window to see nothing but white and lightning in the skys. “An electric snow storm”, I thought. Holy sh*t.
It didn’t stop. And by time Sunday afternoon came around a total of 27” would have fallen in Central Park. And just so those jaded Midwesterners gain a sense of perspective the largest single snowfall in Chicago was a mere 22”. I’ve got you by at least five inches (those words will never come from this mouth again).
And with the coming and going of the snow came tranquility to this ordinarily bustling and noisy city. No cars, and a thick blanket of snow to absorb any remaining sound took care of that. On the subway people of all ages could be seen in their winter gear and toys to go play in the snow. And this epicenter of culture, business, publishing – you name it – took a little time out to go sledding.
As for me, I was with the remaining people not in Central Park. . . Looking out from my warm apartment – eer, with a Cosmo in my hand.
# posted by otas : 10:18 AM
