The sea was angry that day, my friends...
The following account is how I survived the Great Blizzard of 2007. (CAUTION: parts of this tale may be too harrowing for some; discretion is advised)
SCENE: March 23, 2027 (Sunday?)
TIME: 5:45 PM (Supper not ready yet)
PLACE: Mansion overlooking Victoria B.C., where old people go to retire.
CAST: Patrick Stewart as Grandpa Evan, Evan's grandchildren (4), Evan's family (circa 2007), Kevin Federline as Colin, Vince Vaughn as Evan of 2007, Extra Foods management, Scott's Parables management, Bus Driver, Bus Children, Brendan Mierau, Jessica Alba as Mother Nature.
(Grandchildren gather around Evan, their grandfather, by the fireplace. Evan, remarkably sharp for his age, strokes his distinguished beard, reaches for his Sherlock Holmes-like pipe, and waxes philosophically on all things weather...which is what people his age do)
I awoke mid-morning (yes, mid) to a howl akin to that of a vacuum. However, I thought it sounded more obnoxious than usual. I was correct; it was instead the wailing wind of a blizzard. The last time I encountered a blizzard was back in the days of adolescence, back in Dalmeny. I remember that Brendan Mierau was my billet, and had to stay the night dans ie maison Richet because the buses were wusses and because his parents couldn't get into town. I remember having one heck of a pillow fight that night. Since then, I cannot recall a blizzard of that magnitude occurring. In fact, my more recent memories of blizzards are nothing but positive: delicious ice cream, a variety of toppings and at reasonable prices. That is, until January 10, 2007.
My car was in for maintenance on this day, as was my mother's. Dad took Colin to work that morning, as he had sold his car the week previous. Little did they know at the time that they would both be home early on a weekday for supper.
As the day progressed, so did the ferocity of the weather. My grandma, in her 70s, defied Mother Nature by going to work, insisting she's seen worse weather in her lifetime. Her workplace closed early, the employees going home at around noon. She made it home in decent time, thank goodness.
Mom and I were stranded at home, vehicularly challenged. I was supposed to work my last night shift that evening from 5-11, but thought I'd call my employer to see if I was really, really needed. Keep in mind that I work for a company that's open on Easter and Thanksgiving, so I was not optimistic. Sure enough when I called at 1:30, no decision had been made as to whether or not to close early. It appears as though upper management was in Calgary, oblivious to employee concerns and apparently devoid of any sort of media. "Typical", I exclaimed to nobody in particular. The manager that was was there offered to stay as late as it took to save me the drive across the city. The store closed around 7 after repeatedly badgering management to close up shop on the account of public safety and the glaring lack of customers, well after most businesses large and small did, and he didn't get out until after 9. What a wonderful, caring company I work for.
Dad left work before 2, but it took him forever to get down 8th street. He was wearing dress shoes, rendering him unable to push automobiles that were motionless in front of him. As he arrived in Briarwood, he called the house, asking me to bring out a pair of boots for him and a shovel so he could free up cars that were stuck a block or two from our house. I "volunteered" for this mission. I took the tags off of my newly minted winter jacket and took off into a scene eerily reminiscent of the Moors of Scotland. My mom saw my disappear into the blizzard as I left the driveway. I wandered aimlessly down the right hand side of the road, the sidewalk non-existent at the time. I saw some faint lights in the distance and struggled towards them. The first stuck vehicle had been freed as I approached, with my dad next in line. My dad's car has good winter tires, and he attempted to gain momentum toward the house. Of course, his car moves with ease just as I appear.
I am now charged with the task of trying to find my way back home. It's only a block or two away, but I have no idea where I am. The lights of the traffic disappear, the street names on the poles whited out. I head back to where I think home is, quite possibly down the middle of the road. All of a sudden, a yellow school bus emerges behind me and opens its door. All the children have been herded to the back of the bus. She says that bus policy dictates that she not take on regular passengers, but today she makes exceptions. We drive slowly for a good minute or two until I make out a "Brae" on a street pole, and I get let out. Thankfully, it was the correct "Brae" and I find the house.
Colin's employer closes up shop around 2, but remember he has no car. Normally Parables' wouldn't be a bad place to stay for the night, what with their cafe and music and all. Colin's boss offers him a ride home, seeing as though they live on the same side of the city. Better to have two heads than one on a day like this. Every path they attempt to take home is blocked off by traffic and by cops who are closing off bridges. They recount a scene similar to that of the after-effects of a nuclear bomb; cars abandoned in every direction. He returns home safely around 6pm, his boss achieving the same result about an hour later.
We later ate a delicious roast.
(Evan marshals the grandchildren to the dinner table, where he hopes that we would be having pot roast. To his chagrin, we are having fish)
FIN
SCENE: March 23, 2027 (Sunday?)
TIME: 5:45 PM (Supper not ready yet)
PLACE: Mansion overlooking Victoria B.C., where old people go to retire.
CAST: Patrick Stewart as Grandpa Evan, Evan's grandchildren (4), Evan's family (circa 2007), Kevin Federline as Colin, Vince Vaughn as Evan of 2007, Extra Foods management, Scott's Parables management, Bus Driver, Bus Children, Brendan Mierau, Jessica Alba as Mother Nature.
(Grandchildren gather around Evan, their grandfather, by the fireplace. Evan, remarkably sharp for his age, strokes his distinguished beard, reaches for his Sherlock Holmes-like pipe, and waxes philosophically on all things weather...which is what people his age do)
I awoke mid-morning (yes, mid) to a howl akin to that of a vacuum. However, I thought it sounded more obnoxious than usual. I was correct; it was instead the wailing wind of a blizzard. The last time I encountered a blizzard was back in the days of adolescence, back in Dalmeny. I remember that Brendan Mierau was my billet, and had to stay the night dans ie maison Richet because the buses were wusses and because his parents couldn't get into town. I remember having one heck of a pillow fight that night. Since then, I cannot recall a blizzard of that magnitude occurring. In fact, my more recent memories of blizzards are nothing but positive: delicious ice cream, a variety of toppings and at reasonable prices. That is, until January 10, 2007.
My car was in for maintenance on this day, as was my mother's. Dad took Colin to work that morning, as he had sold his car the week previous. Little did they know at the time that they would both be home early on a weekday for supper.
As the day progressed, so did the ferocity of the weather. My grandma, in her 70s, defied Mother Nature by going to work, insisting she's seen worse weather in her lifetime. Her workplace closed early, the employees going home at around noon. She made it home in decent time, thank goodness.
Mom and I were stranded at home, vehicularly challenged. I was supposed to work my last night shift that evening from 5-11, but thought I'd call my employer to see if I was really, really needed. Keep in mind that I work for a company that's open on Easter and Thanksgiving, so I was not optimistic. Sure enough when I called at 1:30, no decision had been made as to whether or not to close early. It appears as though upper management was in Calgary, oblivious to employee concerns and apparently devoid of any sort of media. "Typical", I exclaimed to nobody in particular. The manager that was was there offered to stay as late as it took to save me the drive across the city. The store closed around 7 after repeatedly badgering management to close up shop on the account of public safety and the glaring lack of customers, well after most businesses large and small did, and he didn't get out until after 9. What a wonderful, caring company I work for.
Dad left work before 2, but it took him forever to get down 8th street. He was wearing dress shoes, rendering him unable to push automobiles that were motionless in front of him. As he arrived in Briarwood, he called the house, asking me to bring out a pair of boots for him and a shovel so he could free up cars that were stuck a block or two from our house. I "volunteered" for this mission. I took the tags off of my newly minted winter jacket and took off into a scene eerily reminiscent of the Moors of Scotland. My mom saw my disappear into the blizzard as I left the driveway. I wandered aimlessly down the right hand side of the road, the sidewalk non-existent at the time. I saw some faint lights in the distance and struggled towards them. The first stuck vehicle had been freed as I approached, with my dad next in line. My dad's car has good winter tires, and he attempted to gain momentum toward the house. Of course, his car moves with ease just as I appear.
I am now charged with the task of trying to find my way back home. It's only a block or two away, but I have no idea where I am. The lights of the traffic disappear, the street names on the poles whited out. I head back to where I think home is, quite possibly down the middle of the road. All of a sudden, a yellow school bus emerges behind me and opens its door. All the children have been herded to the back of the bus. She says that bus policy dictates that she not take on regular passengers, but today she makes exceptions. We drive slowly for a good minute or two until I make out a "Brae" on a street pole, and I get let out. Thankfully, it was the correct "Brae" and I find the house.
Colin's employer closes up shop around 2, but remember he has no car. Normally Parables' wouldn't be a bad place to stay for the night, what with their cafe and music and all. Colin's boss offers him a ride home, seeing as though they live on the same side of the city. Better to have two heads than one on a day like this. Every path they attempt to take home is blocked off by traffic and by cops who are closing off bridges. They recount a scene similar to that of the after-effects of a nuclear bomb; cars abandoned in every direction. He returns home safely around 6pm, his boss achieving the same result about an hour later.
We later ate a delicious roast.
(Evan marshals the grandchildren to the dinner table, where he hopes that we would be having pot roast. To his chagrin, we are having fish)
FIN
posted by Ev(an) at
1:55 p.m.
2 Comments:
Yeah it was pretty miserable out there... bet you're glad I saved you from having to come to work that night!
BTW... 4 grandchildren by 2027? You better get cracking... unless there's something we don't know about you?
By
Anonymous, at 1/12/2007 4:50 p.m.
I had completely forgotten about that billet experience and even now after your recounting I only have the impression of memory of it. What other priceless gems have I forgotten?
By
brendo, at 1/13/2007 12:12 a.m.
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