(A picture from the New York archives of the blizzard of 1888 which crippled the city. Utility lines were rendered useless when they snapped under the weight of 22 inches of snow.)
It seems that for some time now, all weather reports concerning the east coast have centered around the phenomenon known as 'snow.' We here in North Carolina have felt particularly slighted, as we have not received our annual drifts. For the past couple of weeks an undercurrent of hope and excitement has flowed beneath the surface; conversations have inevitably covered the upcoming whiteout. The more sinister of us have searched for a flag pole and a willing dupe on which to test the old 'A Christmas Story' trick. We huddled around our televisions, obsessively returning to the 'Weather on the 8's.' We hung on every word which fell from the weatherman's wind-chapped lips. Some of the more ambitious even began to record the transpiring events for the day when primary accounts would be needed for an epsiode of 'When Weather Changed History.' Eventually our patient hopes were rewarded. We could expect a 'dusting.' An inch, to be more precise. A mix of rain and snow-a.ka. frigid, toe-numbing slush. The carnival was slated to begin late Thursday night. 72-hour kits were obsessively gathered and checked. Flashlight batteries were repeatedly tested. Fleece blankets were pulled out of storage. And I made the mistake of going to the grocery store at 5:30. Honestly, I feared for my life, at the beginning at least. Eventually, however, my attention was diverted from my own personal safety to the observation of the highly interesting cross-section of human nature displayed before me. The store at which I was shopping happens to lie at a very interesting junction of three neighborhoods. One is two sets of apartment complexes devoted to the hordes of pursurers of higher learning euphemistically known as 'college students.' Another is the city's first version of 90210. The last is primarily populated by young couples with small children. Let me just say that I now know how each demographic is going to react to the apocalypse. Seriously, no kidding; one trip to the grocery store became an education in human nature.
As I pulled into the parking lot I had a coronary. There was absolutely no room in the inn. Anywhere. I couldn't even put one of the college students into a little extra beer money (we'll address that later) to give me his parking space. Finally, after searching for that elusive, non-existent port I spotted one. Right next to bright, shiny Cadillac. As I waited patiently for the pedestrians to take their right of way (and taking their time taking that right. It's flipping freezing for pete's sake! You'd think they'd hurry) I spotted the proud owner of the Caddy. Apparently Hoke was off that night, Miss Daisy looked a little lost. She passed my window. I smiled. She returned the smile. I put on my blinker. She pointed to the empty parking space next to her. I nodded and smiled. She acknowledged my affirmation. She parked her cart in the parking space and opened the back door. (Just so everyone knows, the plan was to park my car and offer to help her put her groceries in her car. However, I valued my life too much to park my little red bumper in the middle of the lot and get out. Tempers were a bit fragile and I believe I would have been bludgeoned with a case of beer had I held up progress. And my car would have disappeared. Trust me.)
On to the second group. The logically impaired college students. While domestic goddesses were WWF Monday Night Raw-ing it in the middle of the aisle for the preservation of their offspring, a preservation which came in the form of bread, milk and peanut butter, the entire cast of Animal House (and no, I've never seen that movie) was stocking up for Oktoberfest. It's good to embrace other cultures; shows an open-mindedness, don't you think? At any moment I expected some blonde fraulein in pig-tails and those German predecessors of the mini-skirt to appear and begin passing out frothy mugs while all the male proponents of cross-culture customs broke into an a cappella rendition of Das Deutstchlandlied.
That leaves the young mothers with their children. The checkout lines were interminable. Snow. Adrenaline. The very thought of no school the next day. 'Nough said. If that doesn't sum it up well enough, perhaps this will.
Needless to say, it was a highly entertaining trip. Who thought the grocery store could be so much fun?







So... You left us hanging. Didja get the snow?
ReplyDeletesorry, i did, didn't i? and that was the funniest part of the whole thing-we saw nary a flake. nothing. zip. personally i was a bit glad.
ReplyDeleteOkay, first of all I have to say..."I NEVER CALLED YOU CRAZY!" I was the crazy one that watched "The Talented Mr. Ripley" to drool over Matt Damon. UmmmmMISTAKE!!!
ReplyDeleteNow I'll go back & finish reading the reast of your post.
Yep, it's a tossup between the Miss Daisys and the college students as to who's the biggest threat in this town. Throw in a possible hurricane/snow "storm"/the least little thing, and it's a true "get the women and children off the road" (and out of the grocery store) situation. A piece of advice to all who are reading out there - stay out of the grocery store the night before Thanksgiving as well. That's when all of us middle age women get vicious in the grocery store (ever seen what's her name in Fried Green Tomatoes? "I'm older and I have more insurance")
ReplyDeleteI knew it! I knew that's what the college students were going for. That's all they've ever gone for when there's been a chance of snow.
ReplyDeleteEmily was slightly disappointed the next morning but quickly recovered, surprisingly enough, when I told her, "Maybe next time." So that's what we're holding out for.
Thanks for a new post! It made my night!