Monday, December 01, 2008
Snow Job
Mother Nature has apparently decided to fuck with me. After four days of perfectly decent weather in Quincy, it suddenly began snowing fiercely for my drive back across the state. Five and a half hours of cornfields isn't exactly the most thrilling trip to begin with, but once you take away the sun and add driving snow, it becomes even less engrossing. I was struggling just to stay awake for the first hour or so, despite my best efforts to remain awake by singing along with Solange Knowles. (It hasn't worked for Solange, either, judging by her general "tired seahorse" expression.) I did a bit better after stopping for cheese fries and six cokes with my sister in Champaign, but then I had to contend with the approximately sixteen hundred drivers in northeast Illinois who do not understand that the passing lane is not for parking. Oh, and truck drivers who seem to believe that swerving wildly is the best way to say "hello." God bless them, every one.
Then today I awoke to Chicago's first real snowfall of the season which, for some reason, annually causes everyone to lose it even though we have about five months of snow every year. Although it primarily runs underground, the Red Line does its best Trans-Siberian Express and moves rather literally at a glacier's pace, while all the cab drivers of the greater metro area careen around like Courtney Love at the Icecapades. Anticipating a commute something along the lines of To Build A Fire, I bundled myself up and headed out into the streets, only to discover upon arrival at work that my secretary and I had chosen the same outfit -- khakis and sneakers. Luckily, I keep several pairs of dress shoes at the office for just such a situation.
It is going to be another long winter.
Mother Nature has apparently decided to fuck with me. After four days of perfectly decent weather in Quincy, it suddenly began snowing fiercely for my drive back across the state. Five and a half hours of cornfields isn't exactly the most thrilling trip to begin with, but once you take away the sun and add driving snow, it becomes even less engrossing. I was struggling just to stay awake for the first hour or so, despite my best efforts to remain awake by singing along with Solange Knowles. (It hasn't worked for Solange, either, judging by her general "tired seahorse" expression.) I did a bit better after stopping for cheese fries and six cokes with my sister in Champaign, but then I had to contend with the approximately sixteen hundred drivers in northeast Illinois who do not understand that the passing lane is not for parking. Oh, and truck drivers who seem to believe that swerving wildly is the best way to say "hello." God bless them, every one.
Then today I awoke to Chicago's first real snowfall of the season which, for some reason, annually causes everyone to lose it even though we have about five months of snow every year. Although it primarily runs underground, the Red Line does its best Trans-Siberian Express and moves rather literally at a glacier's pace, while all the cab drivers of the greater metro area careen around like Courtney Love at the Icecapades. Anticipating a commute something along the lines of To Build A Fire, I bundled myself up and headed out into the streets, only to discover upon arrival at work that my secretary and I had chosen the same outfit -- khakis and sneakers. Luckily, I keep several pairs of dress shoes at the office for just such a situation.
It is going to be another long winter.
