If I ever come across a DeLorean and a flux capacitor, I’m sure not going to program January 27, 2015 into the computer and drive 88 miles per hour into the past.
Not that the day was tragic. Just awful enough that I don’t want to repeat it.
Technically, this lovely day began the night before. I went to sleep dreading the snow storm that was breathlessly predicted to arrive with a foot or more of snow. New York was awaiting the snowstorm of the century: the “Blizzard of 2015.” (Just imagine James Earl Jones doing the voiceover announcing the “Blizzard of 2015.”)
Well actually, I wasn’t dreading the arrival of snow. After all, I’ve lived in Upstate New York for a long time. A foot of snow… no big deal. I laugh in the face of a foot of snow. I guffaw at everybody who panics. At least until I start shoveling. Then I grumble, but only a little.
Actually, what I was not looking forward to was the lack of snow. The lack of snow that was not predicted by just about every meteorologist. The vaunted “Blizzard of 2015” had shifted to the east, largely sparing New York State.
But why my dread?
I knew I would have to wake up my kids and tell them that school was on. These were the kids who had put their PJ’s on inside-out and backwards. The kids who dropped ice cubes in the toilet and placed cold spoons under their pillows. If any of us had the knowledge and ability to do a “snow dance,” I’m sure that would have been attempted.
No snow day. No sleeping in. It would be a normal day of Common Core and more.
After a fitful night’s sleep, I awoke to the morning I expected. Tears and gripes, at least from the older son.
Off to school for the boys. Off to work for me. And the day got better.
And by better, I mean worse.
Shortly thereafter, my wife texted to say she’d been pulled over and ticketed for an expired inspection sticker.
I guess in the midst of my wife’s major December medical emergency, we forgot to get her piece o’ junk car inspected. So, just as my wife pulled into a medical facility for a blood test related to her previous stroke, she was warmly greeted by a Schenectady police officer.
With a ticket.
And then our day got even better.
Turns out, the big blue lemon needed $500 in repairs to pass its inspection.
But time trudged along, and soon enough I was on my way home from work, negotiating my way through blowing snow that had shown up to the party, fashionably late.
Still, it started as a relatively normal winter commute.
And then it got even better.
I was slowly driving under an overpass on my way to the toll booths at the entrance to the New York State Thruway.
A deep rumble from above startled me. It was followed by a massive curtain of snow falling from the overpass, right in front of me. There was a plow above me relocating some snow. And that snow formed a wall directly in my path.
There was no stopping. All I could do was ease off the gas and cruise straight through.
The snow thumped onto my car. For a heart-stopping moment I could not see a thing.
I’m pretty sure I said a naughty word. (Sorry, Mom.)
I’m not wishing for anymore better days.