Today should have been a snowday. Instead, it was a workday.
I usually work the 11-5 shift on Saturdays, and enjoy it because I can party late on Friday and still get a good 9 hour sleep. But today work was a chilly hell as a snow storm barraged the parking lot and iced the carts.
Outside, pushing five carts up a hill seemed like pushing twenty. The wheels were frozen at the bearings, slush and sand mixed for a miserable traction, and I couldn’t see two inches in front of me because the wind, no matter which direction I pushed, blew straight into my eyes.
No one notices the cart boy when it’s a sunny August day, so of course no one saw me today. I had no idea if I would be staring down a Dodge Pickup when I peaked out of my fleece and polyester burrow or if I would be shedding carts off the front end.
In the store, we heard everything. “The roads are awful.” “The roads are fine.” “I wish I could pull my kid away from the TV to go out and shovel.” “It’s supposed to pick up around noon.” “Power’s out in Prairie Village.” “I think I heard it’s going to stop at 12.”
Did I care? No. I wanted to sled. I wanted to build a snowman. I wanted to roll down Brookside’s suicide hill until I puked and then roll so more. I live for blustery days like today.
I’ve lived in Chicago, Milwaukee, and western Massachusetts, and they’re areas that are frost flake magnets. We only had one snow day in Milwaukee, and even that was controversial call, a 10 inch fall. In the northeast, they have a creative name for snowstorms that dump more than five inches-noreasters. And Chicago enjoys the clouds that swoop in from Lake Michigan and bring all of the snow up north with the breeze. I live for winter’s gift.
But in Kansas, the weather sucks. It was cold all of winter break, but no snow. It was nearly 70 degrees on Wednesday, and it’s in the twenties today. What the heck? I wish Kansas would just pick a precipitation, hold it for a few months, and then move on to spring. None of this Feb. 28 snowfall.
It broke my heart when people started saying the sun was coming out. The snow was melting. I had three hours left in my shift, and when I left I wouldn’t be able to carve out a sphere of white goodness, or feel the breeze in my hair and the wood toboggan under my feet. I got two texts to go sledding and another for an impromptu snowball showdown on a golf course. I almost cried.
Now it’s too late. The snow melted some, and it’ll freeze over night and the ground will be too hard to enjoy a good run. I was so close – for six hours I eyed the sled and shovel display and daydreamed – yet so far. Kansas, this one’s on you. Take a hint from up north and get your act together.
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