The Eastern Snowboard

I think I’ve made it clear that I don’t think too highly of the DC region’s ability to handle snowfall. From school cancellations in case there might be snow, to unimpressive plowing capacity, to neighbors who probably would use a George Foreman Grill to defrost their mirrors, our Nation’s Capital panics, as if they were at a disco. And I’m not saying my hometown was that much better, since a mere 3 inches of snow could allow me to sleep in on a school day. However, both regions can’t compare to my benchmark – Oswego, New York. I have two family members that attended college there, and can speak of the horror stories that come with lake-effect snow (and one of said family members can also tell you he’s never coached a Louis.)

12 feet of snow, people.

(Yes, I know this happened a few weeks ago, but this post isn’t meant to break news. In fact, if we break anything, the Blogger Gods are going to keep our security deposit. Last time I sign a lease while playing Playstation.)

I still get excited when I wake up and it’s snowing. Sure, all it means now is that the commute will be slower and I’ll get to see a Jetta slide into a van or something, but it’s worth it. I never really got into the whole “building a snowman” thing anyway. In my day, we built forts. Glorified, asymmetric igloos that held a clearance of about 2 feet and were completely impenetrable. (Assuming one’s adversary, you know, was afraid of snow or didn’t think of sitting down on it.) On most days that we had off there was so little snow that it would require 2.5 yards of white stuff to build the fort. Needless to say, I haven’t seen 12 feet of snow in my life.

But as I see a mighty 1/8th of an inch accumulate outside my office window, I think back to the 3 Worst Snowstorms of My Life.

3) I-95, VA – February 2003 – Upon leaving my alma mater at 9PM after a full day of action, my old hallmate Justin Moore said to me, “Hey, it’s starting to snow – if you want to crash here, that’s cool with me.” I responded, “No, I think I can get ahead of it, but thanks for the offer.”

Whoops.

For those unfamiliar with the route, it’s about 130 miles between Williamsburg and Alexandria. That should take even a cautious driver about 2 and a half hours. Throw in the fact that it’s a Saturday night and there’s no traffic – that may be closer to 2. Throw in 23 inches of blinding snow? Well, that might change things a little.

5 hours later, I was back in Northern Virginia. But not before cleaning out the Fredericksburg Wawa of every bottle of Mountain Dew they owned.

2) Medford, NJ – January 1996 – Ah, the Blizzard of the Century (way to procrastinate there, Mother Nature.) Jersey got 30 inches of snow, forcing the Garden State to close the Turnpike from end to end and Shawnee High School to cancel classes for a week. Why do I remember this so vividly?

Part of my U.S. History I coursework was to do a book report concerning an aspect of our Nation’s Past. However, we didn’t exactly have a surplus of titles to select from. As per the instructions, we had to read a book by James Michener. For those who don’t know, James Michener is Literature’s Peter Jackson. He has never found an anecdote he doesn’t like, and he doesn’t believe in editing. He writes books of epic length and then names them after the geographical setting. I read his book Alaska. Sort of.

It’s 868 pages long, and if it hadn’t been for the Blizzard of ’96, I may have only read 86 of them. Thanks for getting my back and dumping an icy catastrophe on my school district, God.

1) Boston, MA – March 1997 – I accompanied the Morea clan to the city of Boston in order to check out a few potential locales for higher education. It was an ambitious 2 day trip we had planned, hoping to look a 4 schools. The morning at Tufts started innocently enough, and even though there was snow in the forecast, our tour guide proudly boasted, “New England winters are cold, but we have never had to cancel classes an account of snow.” I guess that was her showing us their commitment to academics or something. As we moved on to Harvard in the afternoon, the snow began to fall. It all seemed kind of perfect. You know, it was the oldest university in the country with the sweet architecture and the sparkling reputation – they could probably make it snow on command for prospective students.

We made it back to our hotel after a hot meal and went to bed early – after all, we still had Boston U. and BC to check out tomorrow. However, 36 inches of snow OVERNIGHT changed those plans. We were snowed in for three straight days to that hotel, and were so bored that we brushed off other people’s cars to pass the time. Moral of the story?

Only liars go to Tufts University.