I'm recovering from the festivities. Torn wrapping paper, stomach bugs, guests and good cheer — it's all a blur.
Sunday night's snow storm hit us hard. Steve stayed home from work, and his folks delayed their drive to Cleveland. The boys were thrilled, because they could use their brand new toboggans and ski caps and shiny red snowball makers.
By Tuesday, I thought we were in the clear. It was a full day after the storm, and the modern world should begin humming again. Starbucks should open. The commuter buses should arrive on time. The biryani cart should be open for business at the corner of 43rd and 8th. Almost none of that was true. (Starbucks was open.) Steve's folks were able to get onto Route 80 and head towards Cleveland. But the rest of the area was stalled and stymied.
Someone in Steve's office took this picture. On 169th & Audubon,
On Tuesday night, I planned to drive into the city to meet Steve and some friends at a bar on 11th Street. But after sitting in traffic for two hours just trying to get onto the GW Bridge, I called Steve and told him to take the A Train to the GW Bridge. I couldn't face another long traffic jam down the West Side Highway.
I got to the bridge before he did, but I couldn't park outside the terminal to wait for him. The snow drifts were too high. I circled around the neighborhood looking for a place to wait. I skidded down unplowed side streets. By the time, I found Steve, my nerves were fried. I gave the car to him.
On that long drive into the city, I listened to the local traffic and news headline radio station. They played lots of clips of speeches by Mayor Bloomberg telling people in that nasal voice to stop panicking and to stop calling 911. He really screwed up that one. There were a couple cases of people dying because ambulances couldn't get through the streets. A baby was born in a car. Some poor slobs were stuck on the A train for 6 hours. The council people in Queens and the Bronx are demanding his head.
All that news radio did strange things to my head, because that night I dreamt that I had lunch with Bloomberg, and we discussed transportation policy. Normal people dream about Brad Pitt. I dream about Mayor Bloomberg.
Meanwhile in New Jersey, we have Cory Booker tweeting his every move through the snowy streets Newark, while Chris Christie is tanning in Florida. It's the politics of snow storms! Love it.
So, I'm not going anywhere until the snow melts. The kids and I are sorting through shit. There's nothing like getting a load of new shit to make you throw out your old shit. I just cleaned out the kids' bookshelves. It's down right painful to get rid of all those old Thomas the Tank Engine books. Next step is the basement.
I need the rest of the week to get organized and play with the children. I'll be in and out of here sporadically through the rest of the week.