SNOWED IN!!!!!!!

Weeeeeeeeell, not quite. 

I feel a little bad for rolling my eyes about this silly megasuperblizzardstorm nonsense, because we all just do our best, ya know? Poor Juno, she gave it a good effort. I'll give her an A+ for intent, a C- for execution, and a gold star! For a very entertaining Twitter feed. 

She started off impressive, we all had high hopes. The snow started falling Monday morning in big fat flakes, swirling gently just outside the steamy window of the café where I was writing on Bergen Street, all dense and quiet and soft and muffling. Bless her, it sure was pretty. The schools were closing early, offices seemed to have expunged all their employees by noon, the mayor or whoever had even turned the subways off--I didn't even know that was a thing! First time in history! So I turned to my girlfriend next to me--we meet up a few times a week at cafés all over the place to keep each other keep on task with our various writing projects and/or watch each other's laptops while the other (usually me) uses the restroom (hold me closer, tiny bladder). She's new to New York and crisis-level weather events, and so when I asked her if she was ready for the storm, her eyes got wide as saucers. "Ready how?" "Well, fill your bathtub with water tonight," I told, and then she said, truly terrified, "Why??" I thought about it and then I realized . . . huh, I don't actually know why. Why do we do that? We all have water towers, why would we do that? Isn't this weird? There must have been a reason for this once.

(I've dutifully filled my bathtub with water for two hurricanes so far, and never, not once, has that come in handy. Not once!)

And now we have a snow day. It's not actually a snow day, but everyone's operating on snow-day laws, so here we are, fully committed! Nothing is open! Pass me the socks! We got Brandon in his pajamas, me with no pants on, and then there's Huck, who is inexplicably fully clothed. (I think he may have slept in those jeans--parents of the year!) I'm trying to figure out why my photos always look great in Lightroom and then all weird once I get them on this blog (somebody knows the answer to this--give it up, please!), aaaaaand I'm also watching Homeland. You know. Productive Tuesday.

And now for the fun part! In case you ever wondered what a megasuperblizzardstorm in Brooklyn looks like, here you go. All your wildest fantasies fulfilled. Nothing but the best! 

First we're going to start with: THE F TRAIN.

I was on that train. It was a rather emotionally-charged sardine kind of experience. So squished. Many odors. A few passengers got into a shouting match when one used the F word, and another yelled "there are children present, watch your mouth!" and then another shouted, "YOU watch your mouth!" 

I also overheard this delightful conversation, between a dad and his two kids that (I'm guessing) he'd just picked up from school:

Dad: I'm sorry, but I wasn't about to sit there while they watched a movie about a racing snail, when they hadn't even seen Citizen Kane yet.

Boy: It's called Turbo. 

Dad: Hurbo??

Son: TURBO.

Dad: Well. It's just--I mean, watch The Graduate. Watch Citizen Kane. Casablanca! There are so many--The Godfather for crying out loud--and then we can talk about a racing snail.

Daughter: We saw Into The Woods over Christmas Break.

Dad: I did hear that one was really good.

Kiiiiind of made it worth it.

It is just now occurring to me that this could be the ugliest blizzard post on record.

Close us out with this guy, one of my handsome snow day cohorts . . . 

. . . and this guy, who walked two of the blocks on my way home with me and seemed completely unperturbed by my snow boots.

The end.