Award Tour Vol. 24: Smash one for the Gipper.

I recall a conversation I had with a friend of mine about a Homeland Security heightend alert (circa 2002). She was on her way to pick up Duct Tape and Plastic, as was suggested via the alert. Her position: better safe than sorry. My position: "phooey, ba-hum bug".

Duct tape? Plastic from Home Depot? When did this become a viable defense against a biological attack?

I don't want to be the victim of a biological attack - really I don't - but allow me to inject some reality here - if there is a biological attack - and your defense is plastic and duct tape - you WILL die.

If you are very careful, and make sure that you duct tape every corner of your house and around the cracks, and there is a biological attack - you WILL die.

If you double layer the plastic, and triple layer duct tape, caulking the crevices with a fast drying adhesive compound composed of a space-age polymer, and there is a biological attack - you WILL die.

Plastic and Duct tape is not a defense. The only thing you are likely to do is to make it more difficult for the Search Teams to locate your body when they start recovery efforts. If you ever find yourself in Atlanta and drive past the CDC (The Center for Disease Control), you wont see any of their containment facilities relying on plastic and duct tape - draw whatever conclusion you feel appropriate.

{The grasshopper continues to enjoy the summer sun.}

This notwithstanding, there is something to be said for preparation. I learned this in an unforgettable fashion in February of 2003, when I made a quick stop to a grocery store. And:

without looking at the sky
without checking an Almanac
without consulting the pain in my "bunion"
or even watching the local weather station predictions - just based on this stop alone, I was able to conclude that some sort of frozen precipitation was on the way...because everybody and their grand momma was up in the store getting their "freak on" shopping for groceries.

It was pure pandemonium - and I don't mean pandemonium like Ann Taylor is having a sale, I mean pandemonium like Mad Max has entered the Thunderdome (two men enter, one man leaves).
-Who gets that last carton of eggs? The man who wants it the most.
-Who gets that last half gallon of skim milk? The woman who simply refuses to be denied.
-To whom does the last loaf of bread go? To the man willing to kill you to get it.

The only thing missing on this night was rabid fans cheering from openings in the ceiling. I smirked, "typical Marylanders. The first hint of snow, and they're 'buying out the bar' ". Famous last words perhaps.

{The grasshopper mocks the ants for preparing for the winter...}

The next day (Saturday) the plot thickens. Even though there wasn't alot of precipitation that past night, my procastination has allowed, the snow that did fall, to freeze into a deep glacial sheet - with a soft powdery topping. It was frosty... it was robust... it was thick enough to skate on.

So now clearing the windows will be an epic tale of cardio-vascular activity, instead of the quick simple job it would have taken if I had simply gotten off of my a$$ and shown some initiative earlier that day. The engineer in me has not done much to help the siutation at all up to this point (but you know all that's about to change now isn't it?). He opens the driver door and turns on the:

1. defroster
2. the heat
3. and the windshield wipers...

...which promptly dumps an avalanche of the snow from the windshield into the driver seat

{grasshopper notices days getting shorter}

I run back to the house and return with paper towels, because as I said, I had the defroster and heat on, and snow began to melt as soon as it hit the seat. I notice my gas is dangerously low, and realize I don't really have time for the seats to dry, the windows to defrost, or the car to warm up... so I drive to the gas station - on a wet seat, navigating through the peep hole I carved out of the ice on the windshield.

Naturally when I get there, I can't immediately get any gas (no... this would be far too simple) . The gas cover is frozen shut...

... and it will remain so for the next 15 minutes as I chisel ice from the around the cover with the edge of the scraper, with the precision of a dedicated Swiss watch maker.
Chip. Chip. Chip.
Fine craftsmanship
Chip. Chip. Chip.
Each stroke, a veritable masterpiece.
Chip. Chip. Chip. Screech!(Damn, did I just scratch my paint?) Okay maybe I wasn't quite chiseling with the precision of the Swiss... maybe it was more like the precision of a drunken semi-committed offensive tackle from Nebraska out on work release

{Grasshopper feels a slight chill... and he doesn't like it... he doesn't like it one bit}

Sunday morning, I look out the window, with what I would have to describe as a profound sense of unhappiness. In retrospect, I have to say that the monstrous 3 foot snow drifts burying the cars in the parking lot had a lot to do with this.

{The grasshopper is dead - period}

I immediately take stock of what food I have in the house -

- it is quite possibly the quickest inventory ever done by man - I have nothing. If I want to eat, I'm going to have to go out into this Winter Wonderland (is that a copyrighted phrase? I mean as long as I don't say, I'm walking in it... I won't owe anyone royalties will I?).

I clear the car of snow, this time carefully avoiding the "driver seat snow dump" of the previous day. The snow however, is so deep that the scraper is of little use today. Instead I sweep my car with my broom for about 20 minutes, dumping even more snow onto the ground, and cleverly disguising where the curb ended and the street began (because falling chest first into the snow is so much more fun when you don't know you're actually about to do it).

Once I finally got enough snow cleared away, I got in the car - put it in reverse and began rocking my car back and forth to get it moving. After about 2 minutes of snow crunching I had myself fully out of the parking space and pointed forward - I was ready to roll.

I put it into drive, and went absolutely nowhere. Pedal down - check, pistons pumping - check, wheels turning - check, car moving - negative. I tried rocking the car back and forth again (it worked earlier, why not try it again). 10 feet and 10 minutes later (and yes, that's 1 foot per minute - and yes I realized this wasn't going to work) I declared the situation to be officially "Snickers" (not going anywhere anytime soon...).

So I begin to back my car into the parking spot that I just left a scant 10 minutes ago. But I cannot (because that would be easy - and if there has ever been one reoccuring theme on this blog, it's that it can never be the easy way - it's just not going to happen). No, there will be no routine drive back into the parking space, because ALL traction is now gone. The "Pirate Ship" manuever is no match for the snow which is now packed and slick - the wheels merely spin, revolving the car about an imaginary axis to mock me;

first a little to the left...

and then a little to the right...

but never forward and never backwards. The engineer in me is perplexed, "I have 2 degrees, this is a physics problem...I can do this". I put the car in neutral and attempt to push the car, ignoring the fact that this IS a physics problem: and 4 wheels supporting 3000+ lbs have more downward force (and thus friction) than 2 boots supporting 210 lbs (okay okay 230 lbs... so I've put on some weight... so what?). I won't be pushing this car anywhere. Finally I just got in the car and hit the gas in reverse and don't let up -

No...

...there wasn't an actual plan. It was just frustration expressed through tires spinning at high rpms and the roar of an engine, drowning out a string of angry curses...

Rackin' Frackin' Frickin' Bricka' Bracken' @#$^&&$%$@ #$%$%^$#$ %@%%(%%!$@"................

...and then the wheels caught traction.

Ah-ha... just as I planned it. I'll hold on the gas, and hope that I catch some traction and back up into the parking space brilliant plan!!!

(I'd like to say it was finely honed skill that prevented me from smashing into the car behind me as the wheels grabbed pavement, but if you want to say I was lucky, I think the judges will accept that answer as well.)

I step on the gas and hold, and then start turning the steering wheel left and right picking up small pockets of traction and inching the car backwards. Once I sucessfully found the tracks that I had left getting out of the parking space, it was smooth sailing (translation: I almost ran up and over the curb, before braking). I get out of the car and close the door and begin the long walk.

I set out on my journey and after a 10 minute slog, I arrive at the cornerstore ironically named High's. That's not a misprint. The store is called High's. And apparently it wasn't just a name but an adjective. Welcome to Price Gouging 101 - hopefully everyone has taken the pre-requisitie class Don't Prepare for the Storm 343... or one of the electives Didn't Have Groceries 205.

On my way home, I noticed another car, a benz, trying to make its way through the snow. Skidding, sliding, and rocking back and forth just like myself earlier... I begin to guess-timate in my mind, "when will this guy realize he is not driving an 8 dog sled team in the Iditarod? Will it be BEFORE it's too late to get back in the parking lot, or just before it's too late to get his car off the main road?"

I guessed it would be the latter and tried to imagine what it would sound like as the snow plough trucks scraped a new (and permanent) metallic racing stripe on the side of the Benz in a futile effort to plough around the car stuck in the middle of the road. I'm thinking thick sharp nails on a dusty chalkboard - but go with whatever works for you.

As I turned around the final bin and was approaching my apartment, the guy whose car was parked 1 car away from mine, came out and started warming it up - like he was actually going somewhere.

I pointed to the frozen tracks leading to and from my car and explained, "I tried earlier, it's kinda bad, you might want to reconsider".

His response, "well, I'm going to give it the old college try". I respond "Old College Try eh? Ok - then". I go back into my apartment thanking God, that I hadn't parked next to him the night before.

His old college try is going to cost a lot of people, alot of money... and make a lot of insurers unhappy... but I guess you gotta do what you gotta do - reality doesn't always get a vote. So I say, "you drive that car man - you go drive it! You get out there, and you spin your wheels, and if you can't make it all the way to the store, just smash one for the Gipper!!!"