Winter Strikes Back

Denial isn't just a river in Egypt. (Sorry.)

It's hard to believe that just a few days ago I was walking through the woods wearing a light jacket, unzipped. A week ago I reunited with one of my bands for an early St. Patrick's Day gig and though we wore coats, the walking and the sun soon made those coats unnecessary.

So when I heard we'd have snow this weekend, I dismissed it. We were done with Winter; this was March. Spring had sprung. Ain't nothing going to break my stride; nobody going to slow me down. Oh, no. The news was exaggerating, and it would all turn to slush and rain. By Friday evening I'd be in a bar with coworkers, possibly enjoying a green beer. It's not that I never learn; I'm just a subconscious optimist.

Needless to say, Friday morning I awoke to clear roads and covered cars and yards. Ice crystals bounced off of everything before settling down and, in case there was any doubt about what sleet was, an announcer on the radio explained that it occurs when snow melts and then freezes once again before reaching the ground. I cleaned my car off easily enough, with minimal scraping. Temperatures were just slightly above freezing, and I hoped they wouldn't drop. My view was clear, and as I pulled from my street on to the main road I turned on my windshield wipers which, apparently, had regained some of the ice I'd cleaned off. They spread a thin film of water, turning my windshield into a giant magnifying glass. I turned the defogger on full blast and checked my rearview mirror to find my back window was somehow covered in ice again. Yet I was confident it would all clear up by lunch time.

Traffic wasn't bad, and few idiots tried to pass me. I was almost at work when I saw a bus blocking the right lane, its hazard lights flashing. I checked my left mirror and saw with horror that it was completely caked over with crystals. I rolled down my window and stuck my head out to look, yanking it back a split second before an SUV took my head off. There weren't any vehicles in the left lane, but it was the first of many that swiftly cut to the left and zipped around me. After about ten cars, one slowed down and let me get out from behind the bus.

At lunch, the crystals continued to fall, sharply and with painful force. Just before a railroad crossing, we passed a police car, then a white car in which a woman sat resting her head on her fist looking miserable, then her crumpled hood and finally the undamaged school bus she must have slammed into. Buses stop for train tracks, but cars gliding on a slick surface behind them? Not so much. After lunch, our company issued an e-mail offering the option to leave at whatever time we thought would get us home safely. Rey, my window to the future in Pennsylvania informed me that they had accumulation, and his brother in New Jersey had even more. It's good to have advance warning like that, though he pointed out he wouldn't be much help if nukes flew overhead. B13 pointed out that I'd probably see missiles before Rey, though. In any case, the immediate danger was the coating of water and ice crystals that was now freezing and being covered in snow. I finished two or three catalog covers and left the eerie silence of my office around 4 PM. I didn't want to be the first one to leave, and with a handful of more dedicated employees still working, I wasn't the last one either.

The roads weren't bad, as far as traffic was concerned, but I couldn't do more than 20 or 30 miles an hour without skidding. It took me nearly an hour to get home, almost twice as long as normal, and a blanket of snow coated my yard and the mound of ice plows had blocked our driveway with. A few hours later I looked outside, and my tires and footprints were nowhere to be seen. I thought we were done with Winter, but I was wrong.

I'm still hoping rain and higher temperatures do my shoveling for me, but I'm no longer holding my breath. I think you'd have to be a kid or a dog to appreciate the mess that's out there. As for me, I did what comes natural in such conditions. I played video games, surfed the net, and fell into hibernation a little before 9 PM. Wake me up when Spring really gets here.