I Hate To Miss Snow

[Lisa Respers France]

I was trapped in Atlanta-Hartsfield airport for hours last night trying to make it back to LaGuardia. We were told that due to high winds all air traffic was delayed and once we got on the plane we would have to wait on the runway for 45 minutes to an hour. My better half has relocated to ATL and since I was already in West Palm Beach last week on business I flew down for a long weekend. Thank God I managed to buy some candy bars and water before we boarded because the airline was selling snacks for like $3. Now, I will pay several hundred dollars for a handbag but I will be hanged before I'll shell out three bones for a bag of Sun Chips.

I was so irritated to have missed the snow in NYC. Believe it or not, I love snow and since I work for a university that means two words which always manages to warm my heart: "snow day." We native Baltimorons glory in a possible snow day. We rush to the supermarket to stock up on goodies like buttery crackers and squeeze cheese. We decimate the shelves at Blockbuster and West Coast video, ensure that there is not a gallon of milk or a roll of toilet paper to be found within a 40 mile radius and then we hunker down. Nine times out of 10 we barely get any precip but it's the process we adore.

So I was less than pleased to discover that not only did it snow while I was gone on Friday, but the university had a snow day. For the second year in a row I was somewhere warm and sunny when a snow day was declared (last year I was in in Los Angeles on assignment). Instead of glorying in the fact that I was sipping sweet tea and wearing no jacket while my friends were shoveling snow and cleaning off cars, I somehow can't help but feel cheated. I missed out on that adrenaline rush that comes when the crawl appears on my local broadcast letting me know school is out and the verbal high five my co-workers and I share when we call around to say "No work today, baby, YEAH!!"

Since spring is about to be sprung, I think this was the last snow hurrah. I guess there's always next year.