The Great White Death

Columbus is a town that effectively shuts down when we receive more than three inches of snow. The moment a dusting of the white stuff collects in the gutters cars magically flip off the road and burst into flames. Roofs collapse and children get unexpected nose bleeds. We run screaming from our cars to the safe warmth of our local grocery stores where we will gladly punch the elderly in the throat for a loaf of Wonderbread. We marvel over the piles of snow in the parking lots and talk about how we never realized how many schools there were in the city until you start seeing their names spaced out over the News Crawl at the bottom of the screen.

So, with this in mind, you can imagine the devastation that followed the 20.5 inches we received this past weekend. Our local news reported that we had over 1900 reported motor vehicle accidents in 48 hours. 1900! That means that every hour almost 40 people were smacking into guardrails and each other like slam dancers in the pit of a Nirvana concert. Magically there were only two reported deaths during this time, a statistic I was stunned by. I would have assumed at least 14 deaths due to people freezing to death after licking flagpoles. I even drove around a bit on Saturday expecting to see entire families of people hanging from their flagpoles, upright only through the indescribable strength of their frozen tongues. Alas, none were to be found. See? People are smarter than I give them credit for. I should be ashamed.

So, we survived. Even my two dogs made due once I shoveled out a place in the yard for them to take care of bidness (the snow towered over their heads). I ran out for some movies Saturday at Blockbuster and then bought a handful of $5 films at Target and headed back for a marathon movie session on the couch interrupted by stretches of Wii while Jen napped. It was tough, but we made it through the Blizzard of '08. I'll be watching the mail for my commemorative t-shirt.