| WEDNESDAY, 26 JANUARY, 2000, PHILADELPHIA |
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So that last snowday was, in hindsight, rather preemptive. A warm-up. A dress rehearsal. Very late Tuesday night, Philadelphia got nailed with about 10" of fast-flying, very dry snow. I looked out the window in the morning when it was still coming down and it looked more like smoke than snow. My lovely co-worker Heather called me at home telling me the college was closed, and not to come in to work. Which is of course exactly what I wanted to hear, because the weather was looking vicious and beautiful — just like me! I really didn’t want to miss playing in it. I have a charming, beautiful, debaucherous friend who lives down my little street a couple of blocks named Portia. She was 33 yesterday. Well technically, she’s still 33 today. But yesterday she was trying on her size 33 for the first time, and needed a little help with the zippers and buttons. So we did what any sane people would do when the city calls its first weather emergency since 1996 and orders people not to leave their houses. We went on a pub crawl to celebrate her birthday and the elements. We left our ‘hood around 3ish and trundled across town, down South Street, throwing snow about, kicking stuff, kung-fu fighting, hurting children, critiquing their snow-sculptures with snobby SoHo ruthlessness. Okay, I was at least. Portia is not quite as horrible a person as I am. Into Tattoo Mom’s for lagers and girl drinks. Cell-phone around the city trying to throw together a spontaneous motley of pubcrawlers. Meet up at a horribly tourist restau-bar on South, Copa Banana (oh, a clever name, how fleeting art thou). Hot drinks there, listening to bad 80’s hair-rock. Strÿkeresque. But even more B-movie than that. So bad it was actually bad. We named the band, “Åïrwüff”. Take a short, squiggly drive through snow-banks up to Bob & Barbara’s. “I can’t see out the back window. Tell me if there are any cars as I’m backing up.” “No cars. You did almost run over a couple of pedestrians however.” “Yah, but are there any cars?” “Diligent souls!” cried the bartender as we, now 4, stamped and shook our way through the door. Make some calls. Gather more of a crew at Bob & Barbara’s. Drinkies. Walk up South Street. Ask strangers to take pictures of us in the road. 22nd Street. Doobie’s. Now we are 6. Cell phone. More invitations. Soon we are 10ish. Pitchers till midnight. Everyone has come to their various conclusions whether or not they will make it to work tomorrow. Most won’t. I know my car is behind a snowbank, and even if I dug it out, I would have to shovel 200 feet of 2’ snow down my little street that isn’t ploughed. My mind is made up. “Absinthe party at my house!” General murmur of pleased acceptance. Pitchers, smokies, spiced ciders with rum. Frolic down to my house. Slap on that Breakfast at Tiffany’s soundtrack and pour out some absinthe + ginger ale cocktails in crystal glasses. Chat, laugh, drink till 1. Offer guest room to people who don’t live within walking distance. No cab companies answering their phones tonight. Looked out the window this morning and saw that my little car was quite smothered and stranded in this sea of snow. Emailed in to work: “Car troubles — I can’t find mine.” Unless there’s some melting today, the situation will be the same tomorrow. I have missed so much work this month due to illness and weather. I guess I will be forced to take the train. How … common. But I feel remarkably good, despite my constant hangovers and feelings of teetering on the brink of life and death. One of my new year’s resolutions was to go out more and try to regain some of my lost rock n’ roll-hood that I honed to perfection in New Orleans. Ah, the sweet smell of success. It’s so satisfying to be able to check things off your to-do list. I’m doing pretty well, overall, on my list.
I do so like to check things off lists. |
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