Silence of the Shovels

An unplowed street in Ballard.

 


















When I decided to make the move to Seattle, I heard the same response over and over again:
 
"I hope you like the rain."
 
"Better bring an umbrella."
 
"Hope you don't rust."
 
I took this all in stride. It's not like Massachusetts is known for its mild, temperate climate. Nor is it a tropical destination. I comforted myself with the fact that for ONCE in my life, I would not have to deal with the snow. There would be no waking up early to shovel out my car, de-ice my locks, and let her warm up for a good 20 minutes before I had to grind her out of the driveway to get to work.
 
My Passat was a case study in itself. The mysterious leak that often left large puddles of acid rain on the floors of my backseat, also served to ice up the interior of my windshield on cold New England winter mornings. I am sure that the chloride inhalation that occurred in the winter of 2004 still has an impact on my ability to adhere to a schedule and articulate cohesive sentences. Spraying de-icer on the interior of the whiny, old VW was a daily habit, and the Passat did not like to defrost. Not one bit. I remember driving it in to the dealer when it came time to trade it in. As I peered through the tiny viewfinder that I had created in my windshield, I crossed my fingers that it would have any trade-in value at all. But I digress.
 
So here I am during my first winter in Seattle. And guess what? True to form (and by form I mean the Jamie luck), Seattle has experienced record snowfall. Fortunately, I am an old pro. Bunker down with people you like? Check. Wait in line at the grocery for a good half-an-hour, while fighting off crowds for the last bag of Tostitos? Check. Ample beer supply? Check. Inflatable inner tube to test out Seattle's hilly terrain? Check.
 
What I was not prepared for, however, was the unpreparedness of the good people of Seattle. When you are not used to snow, you are not prepared for snow. Makes sense, I guess. During the height of the storm, I stood on the front porch and heard nothing. No plows. No salt trucks. No shovels. No cars in the road.
 
Streets remained closed, including the cross-street that leads to my house. Cars skid across intersections like chubby children wobbly on ice skates. Public transit has come to a halt. I haven't gone to work in almost a WEEK.
 
While this is all very new to me, and quite shocking (I'm well aware that New Bedford has over a foot of snow on the ground right now and it is business as usual), it is also kind of nice. It reminds me of winters spent as a child. Worry-free.
 
We are supposed to get hit with another storm on Christmas. I have to say I am looking forward to it. Fuck the umbrella. I should have brought a shovel.