Quite literally. A supposed 16 inches descended upon The District this weekend, quickly taking the city by storm and pushing nearly everything to a grinding halt. Buses fish-tailed, a snow ball fight ensued that resulted in cops with guns arriving to break it up (also calling it a "protest"), and the Federal Government has cancelled work tomorrow. (I sadly, am not on that list of exclusions).
Still, it's the most snow I've seen since I was a little girl. Though then, this kind of snowfall amounted to snowman construction and hours of endless sledding. One year the neighborhood kids and I all piled into a little backyard pool and rode up and down the hill of Sharon Circle over and over and over again, much to our fathers' exhaustion (and irritation?). God it was fun.
Not sure what happened to those days. Instead of seeking cheap thrills at the hands of our cumulative ideas, we now trek across the cityscape to find solace in an open bar. No longer satisfied with hot chocolate by the fire but rather bourbon by the bar. Is adulthood going to continue to take away these simple, lovely joys? I sure hope not.
I say this as if I did not enjoy the snow. A smile creeps across my face as I admit, we had our own snow ball fight and watched giddy neighbors and their equally giddy dogs enjoy all that a winter wonderland can bring. Truth is, spending a blizzard traipsing around the empty streets of Washington was equally as entertaining as sledding down a road in Chattanooga that I've ridden my bicycle up and down too many times to recall accurately. The only difference? It hurts a lot more to fall on your ass at 28 then it does at 12.