Capital Snow Diaries II: Snowplow Politics
Washingtonians of certain zip codes and official levels are not accustomed to doing their yard work themselves.
On spring and fall days I've watched crews swoop through the neighborhood, and wondered idly if the 'amnesty-for-illegals' sentiment prevalent in the Capitol stemmed in part from a congressman's or senator's desire not to mow his own lawn. Or at least, pay market price for the service.
But Snowmageddon defeated even the illegals. While municipal (and unionized) snowplows tackled the major roads, some of the prettiest and affluent sidestreets in the District remained completely snowbound. To add insult to injury, many lost power. Those lucky enough to keep their electricity exchanged outraged messages on neighborhood chat boards. Some speculated that those sidestreets that did get plowed must have contained residents who gave money to the election of Mayor Fenty.
Typical Northwest DC sidestreet, Day Two
We live on a major street, which is normally a nuisance – but not during this one historic weather event. My husband and teenage son began to shovel the driveway to the plowed road. In theory it would soon be possible for us to drive somewhere, if there were anywhere to go. But unless by showshoe or dogsled, travel beyond the main roads was impossible: The snow everywhere was waist-level. And it was still coming down.
I strapped on my new cross-country skis to reconnoitre the neighborhood (I was still feeling very smug about having had the foresight to buy them the day before the storm).
There's a car in here somewhere
My younger Lab, Chester, bounded behind me in my tracks. We passed snow mounds that turned out to be cars (evident only from a protruding side-mirror or windshield wiper). I stopped and chatted with neighbors as they half-heartedly dug out. Even if you could open your driveway, where could you go? From top to bottom?
People were still pretty jolly under the circumstances. Everyone had laid in enough supplies to last several days, if not longer. Children were rolling around and building forts in the middle of the road. Some attempted sledding but the snow was actually too deep to get any speed.
Happy Labs
I returned to my husband and son, who now resembled pink-cheeked snowmen, with flakes clinging to every bit of facial hair. I glanced over at our neighbor's perfectly cleared driveway. Even the corners were squared. I knew his secret: earlier in the morning I'd heard the tell-tale start-up of an engine and seen a geyser of snow shooting up from his driveway. He had a... snowblower!
"Why don't you ask to borrow it?" I asked my husband.
He shrugged. "We can do this."
"No we can't!" shouted my frozen son sulkily.
"Seriously."
"Almost done."
I *got* his sense of manly pride in the task so I didn't urge him any further -- but I would not be so bashful when he managed to escape the city the next day on a business trip, and I was left to deal with Snowmageddon II by myself...
More to come...
You can read all of Danielle's Snow Diaries here.
